LOVE & WAR

A Quiet Goodbye

tw:ANGSTTTTT, I love making people cry. it's my favorite hobby. enjoyyyy.

Imagine you and Sukuna were once best friends, long before his acting career took off and he became one of the most famous actors known for playing evil characters. He had other friends, plenty of them, but somehow he always managed to find his way back to you. It was a pattern—whenever he found a new girl, he would stop talking to you. You would pull away, not wanting to make the girls uncomfortable or give them the wrong idea. And each time, he would block you without a second thought.

You were always alone. You didn’t have many friends, and most people didn’t know much about you. But you had always loved him, harbored a quiet, aching crush that never seemed to go away. Once, you’d even gathered the courage to tell him, only for him to reject you outright, coldly saying he had never thought you were pretty or special in any way.

And then, one day, he introduced you to one of his friends, Naoya Zenin. At first, Naoya seemed nice, even charming, though he’d occasionally say things that made your stomach twist. You brushed it off, thinking he was just another one of those "red pill" guys—annoying but harmless. You went on two dates with him before things took a dark turn.

Without warning, his mood shifted. His anger flared over something you couldn't even understand, and he raised his hand against you. The hit came so fast, so hard, that for a moment you thought you might die. When you finally managed to escape, battered and broken, you went to Sukuna, desperate for some kind of support, some validation that what you went through was real.

But he looked at you, stunned. He couldn’t believe it—couldn't comprehend how someone could be so cruel, how anyone could leave you looking like this, with your skin bruised and spirit crushed.

That was when everything began to change between you and Sukuna. Suddenly, he started giving mixed signals, confusing hints that he might like you after all. You didn't see it—you couldn't. Not after he’d told you so bluntly that he would never be with someone like you, that you were ugly, unworthy of his affection.

But now, he was being… different. Kinder, gentler. He stopped talking to other girls, his focus shifting entirely to you. Yet you still couldn’t put two and two together until the day he confessed.

And so, the relationship began.

What Sukuna hadn’t told you was how much he actually valued your friendship. There had always been this inexplicable pull toward you, something he could never quite resist, even when he wanted to. His friends would often tease him for hanging out with you, mocking him for being seen with someone they deemed so ordinary. But he couldn’t help it—being near you brought him a strange sense of peace, a quiet he couldn’t find anywhere else.

He had never looked at you and thought, Yes, she’s beautiful, she’s hot. He’d never felt that kind of attraction to you, nothing like what he felt with other girls. But after seeing what Naoya had done to you—the bruises on your face, the purple marks on your neck—something in him broke. Guilt gnawed at his insides, sharp and unrelenting. It was his fault for introducing you to Naoya, knowing the kind of person he was, aware of his violent tendencies and twisted beliefs. He’d nearly killed Naoya that night in his fury, and yet, he felt no regret for what he’d done.

Seeing you like that, broken and bruised, Sukuna’s heart felt like it was in pieces. How could anyone hurt you like that? Why would they? His guilt, his confusion—they all merged into something he could hardly understand. And that’s when he thought, Maybe we should start dating. Maybe I can make it up to her somehow.

He didn’t mind putting on an act for you, pretending to be something he wasn’t, if it meant you’d be happy. Hell, he’d even marry you if it brought you some peace. His life would be calmer, more grounded, maybe even bearable. But love? No, he wasn’t sure if it was love—at least not the kind he was used to.

He did care for you, maybe even more than he wanted to admit. But it wasn’t the passionate, fiery love he’d experienced before. It was a tangled mess of guilt, pity, and confusion, something he couldn’t quite name or understand. And yet, here he was, telling himself that this was the right thing to do, that somehow he could make it work.

He didn't love you… or maybe he did. It just wasn’t the love he recognized, and in his mind, that meant it wasn't real love at all. But he was here, and you were here, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

The relationship lasted two months. In those two months, Sukuna managed to do the exact thing he had never wanted—to destroy the friendship that had somehow always managed to survive. It happened in the heat of a petty argument, one he had started out of jealousy, and before he knew it, he said the words he had sworn he’d never say.

He could almost hear your heart breaking in the silence that followed.

What he hated most about himself was that you just sat there and took it. He’d said something irreversible, something so damaging that it severed whatever fragile thread had been holding you two together. The cheap, promise ring he’d given you, a half-hearted attempt at making things feel real, suddenly seemed to mean more to you than your entire life did to him. You didn’t scream, you didn’t ask questions, you didn’t even breathe. You just… went quiet.

"I'm sorry, Sukuna. You will never see me again," you said, your voice calm, almost resigned. Those were the last words he heard from you. And true to your promise, he never saw or heard from you again.

So stupid of him, not to take any photos, not to have any memories. Nothing to look back on. Nothing at all. How could someone not even have a single picture of their own girlfriend?

He had nothing.

Until one day, years later, on this show. It was one of those lighthearted segments where they rummaged through celebrities' old phones or cameras, searching for funny or embarrassing moments from their past. It was supposed to be harmless fun—the worst they could find were pictures of his reckless teenage years, a drunken escapade or two.

But as they scrolled through the content, they stumbled upon a photo. His cocky, confident smile faltered instantly.

It was a picture of you and him, taken just when you two were dating. The photo was blurry, almost out of focus, and it looked like it had been taken in the winter. The angle was awkward, low—his little brother must have snapped it. Snowflakes clung to your hair, your cheeks flushed from the cold, and he could see himself standing close beside you, his arm draped around your shoulder. he was looking at you with this lovestruck look and he didn't even notice. The image screamed of nostalgia, of a time when things were simpler, before everything had fallen apart.

He felt his throat tighten, a sharp ache spreading through his chest. He was done with this show, done with the stupid games, done with all of it.

He just stared at the photograph, and it all came rushing back—the memories, the regrets, the questions that had haunted him for years. Why did he let that happen? Why did his feelings always have to be so complicated? He could feel himself unraveling, trying desperately to pull himself together as he fidgeted with the ring on his pinky—the cheap, matching promise ring. He still had it. The once bright color had faded, the metal tarnished and worn, but he had never taken it off.

“Can we skip this, if you don’t mind?” he asked, his voice calm but strained.

The host, sensing the shift in the air, nodded quickly. "Of course," they said, attempting to change the subject, to bring the mood back to something light and fun. But the damage was done. The audience sensed it too—a weight, a heaviness that hadn’t been there before.

After that, the clip went viral, plastered across every media outlet and social media platform. People watched and rewatched how his smile had vanished, how his demeanor had changed so suddenly. It sparked a frenzy of curiosity. Who was she? Who were you?

Rumors began to swirl. Speculation filled the tabloids and gossip columns, the internet buzzing with theories. Was it a lost love? A tragic breakup? Why had a simple photograph caused such a reaction from someone like him, someone known for his confidence and charm?

People began to dig.

They dug for the reason why a man who seemingly had it all felt so hollow. They looked for the woman who had left him feeling empty. They searched for the pieces of a story they didn’t even know was missing, hoping to find something—anything—that would explain why the man who had everything seemed to be missing the one thing he needed most.

The search grew relentless. Every day, new articles emerged, headlines screaming with intrigue: "Who is the Woman Behind Sukuna’s Silence?" and "The Mystery Girl That Broke the Unbreakable Heart."

Fans combed through his old interviews, scrutinizing every word, every expression, every hint of a hidden past. They poured over his social media, dissected every photo, every caption, looking for a clue—a name, a face, something that could connect the dots. The more they searched, the more the mystery deepened.

Some claimed to know you, throwing out names that didn't match. Others insisted you were just a figment of imagination, a constructed narrative to create drama. But those who had seen the clip, who had witnessed that fleeting moment of vulnerability, knew better. There was something real there—something raw and unspoken that lingered in his eyes.

Sukuna watched it all unfold from the sidelines, his irritation growing with every passing day. He’d wanted to move on, to bury the past in the deepest recesses of his mind, but now it was out there, and the world wouldn’t let it go.

His publicist and manager urged him to address it, to release a statement and quell the rumors. But what could he say? That he’d lost someone who meant more to him than he ever realized? That he’d driven you away with his own stubborn pride and fear? That he’d been living in the shadow of that mistake ever since?

And then, one day, there was a breakthrough.

A fan account managed to unearth an old college photo, a group shot with Sukuna laughing at the center, and there you were, standing quietly on the edge. It was grainy and low-quality, but it was enough. The caption beneath read: "Found her?"

Suddenly, everyone wanted to know your name, your story, why you had vanished from his life without a trace. The internet roared to life with theories and searches, names tossed around like confetti, your image dissected and magnified.

But despite the frenzy, there was nothing—no name, no background, no concrete information. Just those two blurry photos, and sad eyes.

True to your word, you had managed to remain a ghost, a presence without substance.

Then, one day, a sudden and stark revelation came to light. Your younger sister, who had been silent all these years, stepped forward with a written statement. The message was simple, direct, and deeply poignant:

“To whom it may concern,

The woman in the photos you have been searching for is my sister,Y/N. She passed away five years ago in a tragic accident—a drunk driver hit her car. Our family has chosen to grieve privately and respectfully, and we ask that you do the same. Please stop trying to find her. She is no longer here, and continuing to search will only add to the pain her loved ones have endured.

Thank you,

Y/S/N”

----

no part two. suffer hehe. crying is the new cardio

when the lights dim — oneshot

PREMISE 𓃊 ❝ a love tested by silence and distance, where sunghoon’s presence is all you need to heal, but is it enough to mend what’s broken? ❞

박성훈 x fem reader ꣑୧ angst, unrequited love wc 3.5k

୨୧ when you love someone, you hold on — you fight, you stay, you endure. at least, that’s what you always believed. being with sunghoon felt like second nature, something you never had to question. but somewhere along the way, love turned into something quieter, something heavier. he started slipping through your fingers like sand, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, he wasn’t reaching back. when does love stop being worth the fight? and more importantly, when is it okay to let go?

the thing about falling in love is that no one ever tells you how much it hurts when it starts slipping away.

you and sunghoon were never the type to have explosive fights. there was no dramatic screaming, no shattered glass, no slammed doors. instead, your love unraveled quietly — like a favorite sweater slowly coming apart at the seams, thread by thread.

you noticed it first in the way he held you. his arms used to be your safest place, warm and steady, but now they felt hesitant, almost reluctant. when you leaned into him, he didn’t lean back as much. when you kissed him, he still kissed you, but the passion felt… different.

less.

at first, you brushed it off. maybe he was stressed. maybe he was just tired. maybe you were overthinking.

but love wasn’t supposed to make you feel like you were begging to be wanted.

the change was gradual, like the slow fade of a once-vivid photograph. he started coming home later, staying out longer, answering texts with half-hearted responses.

“practice ran late”

“got caught up with the guys”

“too tired, maybe tomorrow”

excuses that tasted like lies, even if they weren’t.

you missed him. even when he was right next to you, you missed him.

but no matter how much you ached for him to hold you like he used to, to look at you like you were the best thing in his world, he never did.

one night, you tried. really, really tried.

you made his favorite dinner, set up a movie night, even put on the hoodie he once said you looked cutest in. you wanted to remind him — remind yourself — that you were still here, still fighting.

when he walked in, he barely spared you a glance.

“you’re home late,” you said, forcing your voice to stay light.

“yeah,” he mumbled, toeing off his shoes.

he didn’t ask about the dinner. he didn’t notice the way you had set up the couch just the way he liked it. he didn’t even kiss you hello, like how he used to.

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i thought we could watch something together.”

sunghoon sighed, rubbing his eyes. “i’m really tired, y/n. can we do this another time?”

another time.

but another time never came.

you stayed for weeks, maybe months, in the limbo of waiting. waiting for him to come back to you, waiting for him to say i love you first, waiting for the ache in your chest to fade.

but one night, as you lay in bed beside him, staring at the ceiling while he faced away from you, it hit you.

you weren’t waiting for him.

you were waiting for the version of him that used to love you properly. the sunghoon who held your hand just because, who sent you texts filled with hearts and dumb jokes, who made you feel like you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

that sunghoon wasn’t coming back.

and loving someone shouldn’t feel like convincing them to love you back.

packing was the hardest part.

not because you had too much to take with you, but because everything in this space had traces of him. the hoodie draped over the chair, the half-used bottle of his cologne on the dresser, the polaroids of the two of you stuck to the mirror.

you stared at them for a long time.

then, carefully, you pulled them down.

“where are you going?” his voice was groggy with sleep, but the moment he saw the bag in your hand, he sat up.

your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “i can’t do this anymore, sunghoon.”

his brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

you let out a breathy laugh, but there was no humor in it. “you know exactly what i mean.”

he didn’t say anything.

because he did know.

you waited. you waited for him to tell you to stay, to promise he’d fix things, to reach for you the way you had been reaching for him all this time.

but all he did was stare, lips slightly parted, eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

guilt? regret? relief?

whatever it was, it wasn’t love.

you nodded to yourself.

that was your answer.

walking out of that apartment, out of him, was the hardest thing you’d ever done.

but as the cold air kissed your cheeks and the weight of waiting was finally lifted from your shoulders, you realized something.

it hurt like hell. but for the first time in a long time—

you could finally breathe.

k: i hope this doesn’t flop TT

xoeus ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓂃 ‎ ‎ ‎ TheXoeusArchive

Enjoy ur break dia and take care of yourself okay? 😓

hey guys imma take a break from the blog for a bit so don’t panic if I disappear! idk when I’ll be back, but until then, stay safe and remember that i love you guys loads 💖

Heaven & Back (p. sh, l. hs) 2/2

pairing. step-brother sunghoon x female reader x step-brother heeseung

genre. I Would Give Up Heaven If I Had To.. AU, pwp, dubcon, M/F, fluff smut humor angst….mostly angst

warnings. morally grey characterizations(mostly Sunghoon- is he batshit? maybe.), profanity, toxicity, sibling rivalry, mentions of alcohol and death, time skips, full smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 21k+

now playing. Heaven//Beyoncé

smut warnings. emotional sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, a moment with chocolate covered strawberries, lots of kissing, oral, breeding, etc

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Talk?”

“What happened last night?”

Shit.

You know exactly what happened last night, and that is a problem. Instead of jumping to admit the truth, you gulp, shrugging to appear confused. You didn’t drink really, but he did.. “I don’t remember much..”

“Yeah. Me either.” He sighs, sitting up frustrated.

Thank God.

“You—we drank again.” Correcting yourself, you move inside of his room, making sure to shut the door behind you. “We should.. lay off the alcohol for a while. I don’t think we can enjoy this vacation if we continue hammering our skulls in like this.”

Heeseung rubs his hands together for a minute, appearing to deeply contemplate his next choice of words. “Yeah, that’s the thing.. I need you to be honest with me..” he sits up, picking up the TV remote control once you’ve fully shut the door.

This is it. Fuck. He knows. He definitely heard you..

Panic races up your chest as he turns on the room's TV, moving in slow-motion where he sits before you. He looks up at you, nodding toward the screen. “I couldn’t remember the check out time, so I tried to look it up and ended up here.”

Bright text lists out the room charges that have been made so far, showing a larger amount than you’d expect after a few days. “Wait, they charged us for those drinks at the pool? I thought that was complimentary?”

He stands up to take a hold of your hand, clutching the remote with his other. “Tell me the truth, please. Did you order those drinks? The bottle of champagne? The shots?”

“Huh? No!” You answer abruptly, confusion wrinkling between your eyebrows. “The waiter said—“

“I didn’t think you did.” He interrupts, peering at the door behind you. “But someone did.”

“No—“ following his gaze, your head shakes in disbelief. “He wouldn’t, that would be—“

“He would.” Heeseung cuts you off again, gripping your hand tightly. “Because he’s fucking evil.”

“But, are you sure?” You sigh, not wanting to believe that Sunghoon would stoop this low.. wouldn’t he? “That would be too much, don’t you think?”

“Far too much, which unfortunately my brother has always been. If it wasn’t him, then who was it?” He bites out, lip pulled back over his teeth. “Wasn’t me, wasn’t you.”

“Maybe the hotel made a mistake..”

“Come on, by now you know how my brother moves.” Clicking his tongue, he lets go of your hand. “I can’t do this with him anymore, he’s gone too far now. Playing with my mental well being and issues I’ve worked so hard on.”

“You really think he’d do something like this?” 

Of course Sunghoon would.. as much as it pulls at your heartstrings to consider, you can’t deny that he absolutely would do something this vile. Only worsening the guilt swarming through your stomach the longer you ponder it.

Heeseung pauses, packing away his things, jaw clenched tight. “He’s really got you convinced hasn’t he.”

“What?”

“Be honest with me, do you have feelings for him?”

The silence that falls between your hard and overly emotional stares could slice through a frozen over pool of ice, sinking you down to the bottom to drown as it collapses beneath your feet, suffocating your lungs down to nothing the longer you take to answer.

Do you have feelings for Sunghoon? 

In spite of everything he’s done that’s pissed you off and angered you, he still manages to awaken a new thrilling sensation within you each and every time you catch his eyes on you; all of the small gestures and smiles he displays only for you.

“You do, right? You have feelings for my brother.”

“It’s—I can explain.”

Heeseung scoffs under his breath, taking a step back. “He always wins.”

“He hasn’t won anything!” You shriek, mindful to keep your tone low and not draw attention from the opposite side of the suite. “There’s nothing to win here! This isn’t a competition.”

“It is though.” Heeseung groans, rubbing at his temples. Doing his best to subside his anger toward his brother and not involuntarily lash out at you. “At least to him it is, and you’re the prize he’ll do anything to win.” Shaking his head, he pauses to look at you, a longing behind his gaze, as if he’s taking you in one last time. “And he’s doing anything, even threatening my sobriety at this point..”

Turning away, he continues to stuff his belongings inside of his luggage, head drooped between his shoulders. “I really—I don’t know. I’m so angry, I’m so fucking angry, I can’t even think.”

“Hee, please, come on. Let’s calm down for a bit.” You plead, wrapping around his waist from behind to dig your face against his back. “We can figure this out.”

“Can we?” He whispers, grabbing on your hands. “When you can’t even figure out how you feel about him?”

“That’s not—“

“It’s the truth,” he turns in your hold, cupping your face. “It’s not your fault, I know how he is. I just wish it hadn’t been you.” Letting out a deep breath, he loosens your arms from his torso. “Stupid of me to think he’d ever allow me to find happiness. As long as my brother’s around, we will never be able to build a healthy relationship.”

“Hee, that’s not true!” You say brokenly, refusing to let him go. “It’s—I can’t get away from him! He’s everywhere! School, home, here!” You say between tears breaking, flowing rapidly down your cheeks, clutching Heeseung’s shirt between your fingers out of fear that he’ll try to leave. Desperation shattering through your voice, distraught pulling your features down. “It’s not fair, everything he’s done to fuck with my head, I—“

He sighs, taking in all the things you’ve said with a pitiful expression. Nodding and pulling you in to cradle your head and press reassuring calming kisses along your forehead. “Sounds like my brother.”

“Maybe I need to get away from him. I just need space so I can figure this out Hee. He’s messing me up, I know it’s wrong, I know I wouldn’t be so confused in the right head space. This isn’t me.” You sniffle, continuing to sob and wipe your cheeks on his shirt. 

Heeseung continues to rock side to side, softly rubbing up and down your spine until the shaking beneath his palms subsides; running fingers along your scalp calmly until your breathing returns to a normal pace. “Listen to me, I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

Taking in your tear stained cheeks, the red wet brims of your eyes and the fear running behind your gaze, he wonders just how bad Sunghoon’s fucked you up. “Do you trust me?”

Trust is a heavy word.

Trust given the situation you’ve found yourself in does not come easy, nor should it. Biting your tongue from abruptly spitting out a ‘no’, you hesitantly nod.

“If you trust me, you need to help me out.”

“Wh-what do you need?” You ask quietly, continuing to wrap your fingers around the cotton material of his shirt. 

“I might have an idea..”

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?” Shutting your eyes, you can’t help the sense of cringe after asking, slowly releasing him as he grabs onto your shoulders.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” He reassures. “As long as you can follow along.”

“What do you want me to do?” You frown, feeling more torn up now over what happened last night. The guilt of what you did with Sunghoon screaming at you like a banshee from hell in this room. Tuning it out, you keep your gaze trained to the ground, falling into a submissive state.

“Listen,” he begins to pace back and forth, chin gripped tightly, fingers rubbing across his mouth. “I need you to distract him today.”

“Sunghoon? After what he did to you?” You stress, shaking your head. “I don’t want to be around him!”

Heeseung shushes you, grabbing a hold of your shoulders again. “Please? I really need to talk to my dad without interruption or any possible interference from him.” He explains, stroking your upper arms. “He can’t find out. You have to keep him busy, I’ll try to get this done as fast as I can but my father can be a bit difficult to communicate with at times..”

“But..” you sigh, begging with shining eyes for him to say ‘nevermind’, to agree with you that this isn’t a good decision. “How am I supposed to distract him?! I don’t want to go out alone with him again!” No. Because going out alone with Sunghoon once had been damaging enough to your psyche. God knows what one more lovely experience could do to your heart..

“I promise you this is really important..” pulling you in, he wraps you in a tight hug. Lips pressed on your forehead before he continues. “I want us to have a chance.. without Sunghoon’s involvement.”

“I don’t get it..”

“Just trust me?” Heeseung cups your cheeks, softly caressing your skin and pecking your mouth between speaking. “I’ll text you when I’m almost done, but until then you have to make him think I got too drunk, hungover again. Tell him I’ve been sick in bed all day, don’t let him know I’m anywhere near our dad, please?”

Should you trust him this easily? Only confused the more he asks and proceeds to squeeze you against his body, littering kisses along your jaw. “I’m not good at lying Hee..”

“Then don’t lie.” Looking into your eyes, he nods stiffly, taking in your face full of despair. “I don’t care what you have to do.. whatever you have to do. Make him think you want to hang out with him today, because you had a real good time at the Vatican..”

As much as it pains him to suggest it, knowing there’s truth behind the remark, he forces a smile, reaching for your hands. “It’s okay, say or do anything you have to do.”

Anything?

As if he can read your mind, he squeezes your hands and makes a sound of approval. “Anything.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Distract Sunghoon.

Do anything you have to do.

Do anything it takes to keep him distracted, unaware of whatever Heeseung could be up to. Anything.

Pacing back and forth in the living room, you glance at Heeseung’s shut bedroom door repeatedly. Running your fingers between each other over and over again, fussing with your hair, gnawing on your lip.

The sound of Sunghoon’s room door opening echoes past you, halting your feet to come to a hard stop. It’s still early, early enough for bright rays of sunshine to flood the suite from the large balcony opening. He exits half-asleep, puffy face dragging up slowly to find your gaze already trained on him.

Confusion wrinkles his forehead together, head tilted to one side as he takes in your appearance. The tiniest black bikini you could have packed clings to your body, exposing more than enough skin to snap him completely out of his slumber. He coughs and stands up straight, ruffling the mess on top of his head. 

“Hey.” You say, clearing your throat to not stutter.

“Hey?” He replies raspily, voice not fully awake yet. Still thick and heavy, stirring something hot in your chest. “Morning..”

“It’s a really nice day outside.” You motion toward the balcony with a view of the pool. “Wanna go swimming?”

“Swimming?” Finally breaking his trance, he looks around the room, searching for a trace of his brother. “Where’s Hee?”

Letting out a long tired sigh, you point a thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the olders room. “Came out to all the bottles he ordered last night completely emptied.” Nodding toward the kitchen, you prove it with the empty glass containers lined up on the counter. “He’s out of it, don’t think he’s even sobered up enough for a hangover to even hit yet.”

That seems to please Sunghoon. A grin grows on his face as he follows your hand and counts the three large empty alcohol bottles. Easier than luring a rat into a box with a dangling piece of cheese..

“Hmm,” standing up straight, he takes in your bikini clad figure once more. “You want to go swimming, with me?”

“I want to go swimming.” You correct, hip popped, arms folded over your chest. “And I’m extending an offer for you to join me.”

Right. Because you shouldn’t be too eager, you wouldn’t be normally..

Mimicking your posture, he leans against the door frame, sharp teeth exposed with a small smile. “I’m not really into drinking.” He states for no reason, purposefully staring at your chest. “So when you say you want to swim, I expect your pretty ass to be in the pool with me.”

God. He couldn’t be more insufferable.

“You know what,” huffing a laugh, you pull on a cover-up draped by a towel on the couch. Waving him off. “Forget I even asked.”

Rushing over, he takes a hold of your hand to stop you, stealing the towel out of your other. “Give me five minutes, I’ll be right out.”

“I’m keeping time.”

His smile widens, running back to his bedroom to quickly change and grab a few things while you call out the time and hide a smile.

He went for it, of course he went for it. All it took was a skimpy bikini and the promise of seeing you drenched under the beating sun. 

Especially after last night.. whatever that was..

“Ready.” He bounces back out wearing nothing but black swim trunks. Sunglasses on his head to match and push his messy hair out of his face.

Oh.

You shouldn’t still react this way to seeing him shirtless, having to catch yourself and shut your mouth fast. Averting your eyes away to find your bag. “Took you long enough.” You sneer, snapping your fingers and heading toward the door. “Let's go.”

—

“Let’s not stay out here too long.” Sunghoon suggests, tapping his phone to check the time. “Don’t wanna get burnt.”

“What is that?” 

“What is what?” Following your gaze, he watches as his phone screen fades back to black. Continuing to lead you toward empty pool chairs.

“You don’t seriously have a photo of me as your lock screen..” you mumble, throwing your bag down. “Please don’t tell me you seriously have me on your phone like that.”

Sunghoon shrugs, rubbing his neck. “It’s a nice picture of you.” Tapping the screen again, he shows you, smiling as he looks too. “Besides, I took it.. and I think you came out really nice.”

“What if your dad sees that? Or my mom?” Shaking your head, you grab a couple of towels. Distracting yourself from watching him apply sunscreen over his chest and arms. 

“What? I can’t have a picture of my adorable step-sister on my phone now?”

“I believe your father would agree that your girlfriend would be a more fitting option.” You bristle, tossing a towel onto his chair.

“Can you get my back?” He motions to the bottle of sun protection in his hand, turning around without acknowledging your comment. “Please?”

Taking a minute to watch the muscles lining his back flex, you hesitate to get closer. Snatching the SPF from him, making sure to aggressively slap the lotion onto his skin. “You could use some sun.” You snicker, rolling your eyes.

“And ruin my flawless even tone?” He scoffs, turning to look at you and winking. “Come on, let’s get in.”

“Just a minute.” You wave for him to get in the pool, grabbing your phone to text Heeseung. 

You: I got Sunghoon to agree to go swimming, will try to stay out here for a while.

Heeseung: Might be a few hours.

You: A FEW?!

Heeseung: Please keep him busy.

Fuck. A few hours?! What the hell could he be up to taking this long.

“Come on,” Sunghoon grins at you over his shoulder, slowly stepping into the pool, reaching down to splash water on you. “I told you I want to swim.”

“Yeah yeah.” Following him in, you’re instantly soaked, gasping for breath. Thick biceps belt around your waist, hauling you into the deep end until you’re blinking at him under water. He puts up a fight for a minute until you threaten to kick his groin, cupping over the area as bubbles burst from his mouth and nose and you both struggle to resurface.

“You asshole!” Gathering your breath, you paddle over to the ledge to grab onto. Hair a wet mess, clinging to your face and neck. 

“Thought you wanted to swim.” Sunghoon floats behind you, mouth peaking over the water halfway. Trickles of water pass from his wet locks, a few latching onto his defined eyebrows.

“Fine. Let’s swim.” You glare, shoving past him. “I know you can’t swim faster than me.”

“Ohhh, is that a bet?” He smirks, standing to his full size. Wet chest raised over the water to show off his strong build. “You’re on.”

You should have expected it by now, of course Sunghoon swims akin to some Olympian athlete. Winding you by the 5th lap back and forth, unable to catch your breath without noticing the irritated looks from others enjoying their summer vacation by the pool.

“So, what do I win?” He cheers, hands shoved into his hair pushing each soaked strand all the way back. Smooth forehead and strong jaw completely visible. 

“What do you want?” You grit, leaned over on the pool's edge still gasping. “And don’t say it.”

“Oh I don’t want that.” He laughs, quickly rolling his eyes and settling by your side. 

“…you don’t?”

A sleek gaze scans your confusion, slowly nodding as his arms fold over the ledge and he leans down, chin perched on his forearms. “Ask me why.”

Because of the other night? When you moaned and screamed under his brother’s body? When you shouted how good he is, how much you love it.. that he’s the best.

“Don’t care.” You shrug, looking away. 

“Yeah yeah..” trailing off, he swipes your hair aside, softly tracing your shoulder. “You know, it’s been nice hanging out with you like this, just the two of us.”

Shrugging him off, you frown, eyes slitting. “You must have a lot of fun hanging out alone with Miyeon too. You know, your girlfriend, in case you’ve forgotten. The girl you should probably have as your lock screen.”

Sunghoon smiles to one side, nodding along to everything you’re saying. “Not that it’s any of your business but..” he holds up his hands, turning the one that typically sports a ring from side to side. “We ended things.”

“What?!” 

Amused by your reaction, he stands up straight, turning to lean his back along the pool wall, elbows propped on the ground. “Well, I ended it.”

“Oh, you’re soooo fucking full of it.” You fume, poking at his chest. “Can’t you ever just be normal?!”

“Go ask my father if you don’t believe me.” He says casually, seeming unperturbed. “He’s the one threatening to not pay for my tuition next year because of this.”

“Why would your dad care—“

“Because, he’s the one that set me up with Miyeon in the first place.” He interrupts, gaze finding yours. “Not that you’ve ever asked- but my dad’s been trying to merge with her family’s company since before I was even born.”

What.

There’s a throb running up the sides of your forehead that can only be described as Sunghoon. Irritating, infuriating, down right rage inducing. Causing you to apply pressure to your temples before you can begin to register anything he’s saying. “You’re telling me—“

“Let me guess, my brothers told you a different story, right?” He glares at you, getting closer to your face. “Told you how I cheat on Miyeon all of the time, that I don’t treat her right? Yeah well,” he takes a deep breath, biting on his tongue. “Think I’ve been more than nice by never telling anyone about her secret long-term boyfriend in New York..”

No. This cannot be happening right now.

“You’re lying—all you ever do is lie to me.”

He gulps dryly, continuing on. “We are friends, well, we became friends, Miyeon and I. That’s it, she knows I sleep around and I know about her relationship. There’s never been anything between us beyond that, and you know what? It was enough to get my dad off my ass for a while. Enough to take the heat off of Heeseung whenever he’d fuck up too.”

“What the hell does Heeseung have to do with this!” You hiss, getting right back in his face.

“You try dealing with his bullshit, always crying when he had to come live with us. He ruined everything, we were fine before she died.” He says quietly, voice cracking toward the end. “Before he showed up and started pissing dad off all the time. I had to be the good one. I didn’t have a choice. You wouldn’t fuck get that.”

“You can’t compare yourself to him. He can’t compare you either! You need to figure shit out, both of you.”

“I have nothing to figure out anymore.” His jaw clenches, leaning back, blinking up at the sun. “I’m tired of saving face for that fuck-up. It’s not my fault he can’t fucking man up and deal with his shit.”

“And you?” You goad, lips curled in. “Because you deal with this weird jealousy you have toward your brother so healthily?”

“Oh please,” Sunghoon gripes, breathing harshly through his nose. “Jealous of him? If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t even exist to me.”

“You really..” an overload of information fills your head. Pressing down on your temples harder.

If Sunghoon’s not with Miyeon then.. what the hell does he want with you? Why is he so determined to ruin your damn life?!

“I don’t get it.” You sigh, floating bonelessly, defeated. 

“Well I’m not sorry that I’m not the asshole you want me to be.” He sneers. “I can be, if you want, but I’m getting tired of you throwing this relationship I stayed in to satisfy my father in my face.”

“Why would you break up with her?” You ask wearily, afraid to hear the answer.

His gaze slowly drags over your face, licking his lips. “I’ve waited long enough, and given up enough to be the golden child. The all star athlete, straight A student, volunteer hero, a respectful young man my father can brag about.” He pauses, inching forward. “He makes sure that I always get what I want because of that, but there is one thing I don’t think he’ll be able to help me with.”

“And why is that?”

Nodding slowly, he lifts his eyebrows and returns to leaning against the pool ledge. You know why.”

“You expect me to believe you? That you just.. broke it off with this girl you’ve been with for years..”

“Well yes.” He rebuttals, shoulders bouncing. “Why would I lie about this.”

“Why would you lie about breaking up with the girlfriend you never told me about in the first place?” You spit, furiously blinking at him. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Omitting the truth isn’t a lie.” He corrects, 

Continuing to rub at your temples, your head shakes, lips pursed to hold back an angered groan. “This seems pointless..”

Sunghoon’s contemplative expression makes your lips tighten more, ready to run from the pool and check your phone before he can get another word in.

“Our pointless conversations mean a lot to me..” he mumbles quietly, head shaking. “Doesn’t matter, right?”

His hand lifts before your face, inspecting the tips of his fingers while your mouth parts. Tongue turning heavier the longer you think of a proper response.

“Getting pruney..” he nods toward the stairs. “Let’s get out.”

Perfect. Hopeful that Heeseung’s texted, you follow him back to your chairs. Wrapping a towel around your hips before reaching for your bag to check your phone.

Zero notifications. God damnit.

“Kind of hungry.” He mutters, looking over the pool’s bar menu. “Wanna share anything?”

“No thanks,” you pretend to yawn, laying back with your arms behind your head. The way your stomach grumbles hardly goes unnoticed, rolling his eyes again before turning his body to look at you.

“It’s funny.” Calling a waiter over, he taps an item on the menu, entering your room number on a device to pay.

“What's funny.” You say flatly, eyes shut.

“How much you pretend to hate me when we’re not even all that different..” he notes, laid on his side with one arm keeping his head held up to watch you.

“Hah!” You guffaw sarcastically, sneering. “You and I? We’re nothing alike.”

“Sure.” He chuckles, sitting up to grab a plate full of chocolate covered strawberries from the waiter. “Thanks.”

The decadent fruits grab your attention, watching from the corner of your eye as he bites into one, releasing a pleased hum. “I know you’re hungry.” He mutters between bites. “You haven’t ate today.”

“I’m not.”

It’s not entirely a lie.. even if your stomach disagrees. Even if your mouth salivates when he picks up a white chocolate covered berry, swallowing the saliva swarming around your tongue at the bite he takes. “Won’t snitch on you to mommy, you know. You can eat good food around me, can be added to the pile of secrets we share now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You glower, sitting up. Gaze flitting between the plate and Sunghoon’s pink lips wrapping around another piece. 

“You think I’ve already forgotten about your horrible squat form?” He huffs, laughing. “I know your mom scolded you to get your ass in the gym.”

“Yeah, so what? What’s your point.” Wrapping your arms around your stomach, you can’t ignore the next rumble that passes. How the hell did he know that you love chocolate covered strawberries?

He shrugs, holding one of the treats in front of your face, slowly turning it. “You think we’re different because I do whatever I need to do to keep my father happy. Meanwhile, you play the part of a doll for your mom to relive her youth through. Restricting what you eat, trying to work up a sweat when she makes comments on your figure. Taking it personal when she dislikes your hair, makeup, clothes.. even going as far as pawning off your body for better grades.” He emphasizes that last part with a bite, red dribbles of liquid squirting from the berry. The tone bright against his chin, pink tongue slowly dragging out to lick himself clean. “We’re not all too different, you just never had anyone around to make it harder for you. Only child syndrome shit..”

“Not my fault you have some major mommy issues.” You whisper, face turning away before he can finish off the strawberry.

“You would think that,” he hums. “Have to have them to recognize them.”

Ready to curse him out, you look again only to find his eyes focused on you, lightly tipping his chin. “Eat.”

“No.” 

“You’re hungry.” Sitting up on his knees, he crawls onto your chair, lifting a berry before your lips. “I want you to eat.”

I don’t care what you want. That’s what you should say. That’s what you would say if he wasn’t so close, looming in front of you, broad bare chest close enough to smell the chlorine radiating off of his skin. The small space between your lips invaded by the hard shell of chocolate, sweet and cool against your lips. “Take a bite.”

Sunghoon’s gaze slowly drifts from yours, skimming down the bridge of your nose to your lips, tipping the berry in until your teeth clink and you open wider. “That’s it.”

Sugary sweet milk chocolate melts onto your tongue, sucking around the strawberry as he slowly dips it past your lips. “Tastes good, doesn’t it.”

It’s dizzying really, how easily his gaze alone can make you feel lightheaded. Nodding slowly as you succumb and allow him to feed the rest of the strawberry inside of your mouth. 

“I knew you wanted it.” He says, hinting a cocky confidence. “I know you want a lot of things you refuse to ask for..”

Sunghoon uses your seconds of falter to grab your chin, thumb pressed against the center. “Want more?”

No.

Why can’t you just say no? Why must your tongue slip out, allowing for him to run another chocolate coated fruit along the tip. Sinking in closer, he starts with a light kiss placed on the corner of your lips, lapping at the side of the strawberry sitting between your lips. “Let me taste.” He whispers extra quietly, pushing the fruit between your conjoined lips. Less focused on the bits of chocolate breaking up against your tongues than he is with licking across each crevice inside. 

“Hoon..” whimpering, you clutch at his wrist, tugging his hold away to deepen the kiss for a minute. Struggling to catch your breath the more he strokes and sucks around your tongue.

“You’re making a mess..” he speaks softly, thumb brushing along your chin. Tongue flicking out to lick up a crumb of chocolate. “Do I have to clean up all of your messes?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” You’re not really asking, no. Unsure if you even managed to speak, you sigh, pressing closer to him.

“A lot of things will have to stay unspoken between us,” pinching your chin, he tilts your face up. “Until you’re ready to accept who I am, and what you want.”

“I don’t want what you are.” You whine, grabbing his chest. “You’re drama, bad.. very bad.”

“I may not be what you want me to be..” he licks your lips clean, pressing featherlight kisses. “But I’m what you’re afraid of having, too risky, unpredictable. I know that you feel it as much as I do..”

Silence falls between you as you can’t fathom doing anything other than stare. His unblinking eyes absorb every emotion you can’t bring yourself to say, down to the misery wrapped around you each time you end up like this.

“I’m going back to the room to shower.” He says after a few minutes, finishing with a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll check on Heeseung if you plan to stay out here much longer.”

Check on Heeseung?

Shit.

Snapping out of the Sunghoon induced trance you’d fallen into, you jump to sit up, scrambling to grab your bag. “Wait wait! No no, don’t go.” You rush toward him, wrapping around his arm. “One more swim?”

“Tired of chasing after you.” He says flatly, teeth baring, implicating more. “It’s getting a little too crowded out here anyway.”

“But.. we were having so much fun.”

Glaring at you once more, he scoffs and turns away to head back inside. Only slowed down by your limbs wrapping around his arm to keep him close. “Are you not having fun?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, slamming the elevator keys to promptly get inside as the doors are quick to open. Forcing you to follow, he shrugs a few times, failing to get you off. “Maybe I’m getting bored of just having fun.”

“What else do you want to do? Want to go out?” You ask desperately, tugging your bag you were rushed to grab quickly onto your shoulder. 

Instead of replying, he gives you another irritated look, ripping free from your hold once reaching the floor you’re staying on. “Can’t tell if you’re playing dumb right now, or you’re actually just dumb.”

“Hoon..” stepping inside behind him, you grab onto his shoulders. Nervously peering at Heeseung’s shut door. “That’s it? That’s all you want?”

“Hmmph..” sliding your hands off, he turns half-body. A small smirk playing at his lips, eyes thinned. “What do you want?”

“What?” You blink confused, grabbing onto his elbow.

“What do you want? Because it’s getting old, this little act.” He states snarkily, moving toward his bedroom. The change in direction releases a sigh of relief, shoulders loosening as you follow him. 

“What act?” 

Coming to a halt at his door, he steps inside, turning around to look at you, arms raised up to grab the door frame. “Think I’m just going to fuck you and have you pretend you don’t want it over and over again? That I’m going to let you fuck my brother right in front of me and crawl back to me whenever he doesn’t do it how you like? How I do it for you?”

“That’s not true..” you mutter, looking away. “That’s not why—“

“Then what is it?” He crowds in closer, nose nudged against your forehead. “Because you like me? And you want me to fuck you. You want to be with me?”

Sunghoon huffs after a minute of silence, nodding against the top of your head. “If you’re not going to be honest with me, then leave. Go find your boyfriend, or whatever, to comfort and take care of your needs.”

Stepping backwards, he rolls his eyes, sitting down on the edge of the hotel bed. “Well? You gonna stand there all day?”

“No..” wishing you could steal a look at your phone, you shut the door behind you. Setting down your bag on the nightstand. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” 

“You expect me to believe you about Miyeon as if you haven’t lied to me before.”

Standing up, he moves toward you, eyebrows stressed together. “You know what I don’t get?”

Getting closer to make you uneasy, he bites down on his lip, jaw clenched tight. “Why are you the only one allowed to fuck whoever you want? Why should I still want you?”

“Sunghoon, I—“

“No.” He cuts you off, standing straight to loom over you. “You still want me? Then show me. Prove it.”

Glancing at your bag one last time, you nod. Submitting to his wishes and reaching for his swim trunks. 

“No.” He sneers, grabbing your hand to hold before you can gather the drawstring. “Kiss me, you kiss me.”

A kiss. A kiss initiated byyou. That’s what he wants..

Closing the small space between your bodies, you wrap around his shoulders to arch your neck back. Failing to ignore the shivers rushing through your fingers, you lick at your lips repeatedly. A kiss shouldn’t be this hard, not after everything you’ve let him do to your body..

“I’m waiting.” He says between gritted teeth, not moving a muscle closer for you. 

You know Sunghoon doesn’t simply want a kiss. No. He wants you to admit something that isn’t true, wants the reassurance that he still has some type of power over your relationship with his brother. Needs to believe that you’d still choose him given the chance..

Fine. Give Sunghoon what he wants. Do anything you have to do.

Pressing your lips to his, you hesitate to deepen the kiss at first. Smoothing down to grip onto his biceps as you begin to lean in more, pouting to meld your mouths together. Staying stiff between your hold, he doesn’t move an inch, allowing for you to take command. It only takes a few seconds for your greedy tongue to knock at the seam of his lips, desperate to taste the residual sweetness left behind. Working with your pleading tongue, he parts open, lazily licking along the muscle entering his mouth. 

It’s the most mandated basic kiss you’ve shared with him, lacking passion, lacking heat. Hardly sparing you more than a few flicks of his tongue before pulling away with a look of annoyance mixed with anger. 

“What’s wrong?” You breathe, grasping his biceps. “Isn’t this what you want?”

“Hah..” without looking at you, he nods, biting on his lip. “Fine. Let’s do this your way.”

Removing your hands, he sits down on the bed, easing the drawstring on his trunks open. 

Licking the taste of him off your mouth, you silently agree. Shifting down onto your knees to settle in the space between his spread open thighs. “Wait.” Sunghoon’s palm presses to your chest, chin directed toward your body. “Take that off, you know how I like it.”

Right. Take off your bikini top, unknot the tied strings behind your neck, slowly ease the triangle shaped material off your breast. That seems to appease him, sliding his hand down between your chest, he nods in approval. “Bottoms too, and show me.”

Heat rushes up as you follow his orders and get off your knees to stand, untying one side of your bottoms at a time to really stretch out the reveal of your bare cunt. “Wait.”

Grabbing onto your hands, he glides the damp fabric off your core for you, humming quietly. “Do I even have to do anything to turn you on?”

No. But you won’t give him the free ego boost, stepping away from your bottoms that fall to the ground without meeting his eyes. He cups between your thighs, thumb finding your clit to circle. 

“You get wet like this for me because you like me, whether you’re willing to admit that or not.” He says monotonously, palm patting against your center. “Not only for my body either, even if you look at me with those cock hungry eyes.” With a grin he draws free, admiring the slick on his hand. “Get back on your knees.”

This is the problem with Sunghoon, so full of himself. So self-concerned, assuming he means more to you than he really does.. 

“Good girl.” He acknowledges, humming under his breath when your knees return to the floor. “You may piss me off, but at least you know when to listen.” He leans back, stomach muscle tight, flexing above his swim shorts. “You know what to do.”

You know what to do thanks to him, he was the first guy to force you to swallow every inch.

Running your parted lips over the tip of his size, you lightly lick down the slit. Avoiding the intense gaze he has focused on your actions. You know he wants your eyes on him, but you can’t give him that. Not this time. His length chubs up to full mass on top of your palm, dragging from side to side suckling the mushroom capped tip. The muscles lining his stomach in your line of sight flex, convulsing each time you run along the slit collecting pre-cum that continuously drips out.

You owe him from last night, that’s all. Nothing more, suck his cock and get this over with. “Take in more, you’re better than this weak shit.” 

The comment elicits shivers down your spine, further parting your lips as you push forward and drag your tongue against the thick vein lined underneath. He holds in a groan when you vacuum seal and suck around him halfway, tickling your fingers toward the filled heavy sack between his thighs. “You’re being annoying on purpose, aren’t you?” He tuts, dragging his hands through to the back of your head to cup you and hold you in place where he wants. “All the way.” 

Coughing around the sped up intrusion, you relax against the heavy weight of his length continuing to stretch past your lips. Gurgling when the tip breeches your throat, bulging against your neck muscles. “Fuck.” He hisses, keeping his moans at a whisper level, because two can play this game. 

You want to keep this act up? As if he had to do anything more than nod to get you here, as if you don’t want it just as bad.

He doesn’t waste more time to go easy, enjoying the gurgled sounds escaping from around his cock. Lifting his hips from the bed to fuck your throat faster, he grunts deeply, choking on the rasped whine that finds a way out. “Can you breathe?” He questions, hips ramming into your face mercilessly. 

Scratching at his thighs, you try to shake your head, only to receive a slap on the cheek. Not too rough or painful, but hard enough to alert you and snap your eyes open in time to see his pam lay flat over your nose. Fully blocking your ability to breathe, leaving you no other option but to lurch around the thick meat pumping in and out of your throat.

“Fuck!” Holding you in place, he pinches your nose until your throat chokes around his cock. The tight squeeze nearly making him bust, having to let go and rip your mouth off to stave off his orgasm. 

He pants heavily, clutched over reeling from the denial of release he just gave himself. Heavy wet cock throbbing against his stomach. “Fuckfuck..” 

Swallowing down harsh breaths, the room fills with both of you attempting to recompose yourselves. Landing hard on your knees when he abruptly removed you. 

Sunghoon rubs at his face, licking his lips, craving more of your taste.

“C’mere.” He says lazily, index finger directing you to climb onto his lap. “Who taught you how to suck cock like that?” He smirks, cleaning the drool off your chin. “Did a good job of teaching you.”

He mumbles distracted by your swollen cock sucking lips, devouring them in one swoop with his. Licking and sucking between your upper and lower. The taste carrying hints of salt and sunscreen, the chapstick you applied hours ago. All of it drives him up a wall, licking between for more of a taste, tongue sucked around yours. 

“I wanna be inside of you.” He mumbles between your lips, kneading your hips firmly between his digits. “Get on the bed.”

Nodding too eagerly, you try to jump off his lap onto the space behind him. Firmly held in place by his biceps circling around your waist. The muscles bulging and stretching his pale skin tight around them.

“You’ve really turned into a little slut haven’t you?” He mocks, licking up the center of your throat to land at your jaw. Mouthing and sucking up to your ear as you keen and whine in dismay. “Or is that reserved for me? Cause I fuck you like a whore..”

Big palms flatten on your waist, groping his way lower to slap and squeeze your bottom. Coercing your hips to grind against him with rougher hits, he grasps onto your buttcheeks. The blunt tips of his nails digging into your soft fleshy skin. “My slut, only for me, right?”

Yesyesyes whatever you fucking say. Between your half-lidded eyes and clouded aroused mind, you somehow manage to keep yourself mute.

Sunghoon nibbles on your earlobe, licking back down your jaw to kiss along your chin. “Say it, want me to fuck you? Then say it.”

“N-not a slut,” you stammer, gasping at the round of slaps he delivers. Arching your back forward, chest shoved to his face. “Only f-for—for you.”

“Such a pain in the ass for such a pretty slut.” Another succession of whip-like slaps has you wailing. Unable to catch your breath before he shoves you onto the bed and stands up to fully remove his clothes. “So fucking difficult.” He grunts, pulling your hips up to get a close look between your spread thighs. “With the prettiest pussy, all for me.”

It’s humiliating how loud the squelch is that escapes as his fingers dip in last your blood filled velvety folds. The wetness emitting from your cunt enough to plop out onto the bed if he pulls out too fast. Tapping along your twitching hole, he hums, pleased by the tremors running up your thighs. Shocking you to arch in deep with another hit that ripples through your buttcheeks. 

“I-inside..” you whimper, setting yourself on all four in a more sturdy position. “Please?”

“What do you want? My fingers?” He prods, at your entrance, swiping down to your clit to teasingly tap at. “My mouth? My cock? So fucking wet for me, you’d take anything I give you.” Rubbing his fingers up and down to create a mess, he coats the outside of your cunt with wetness. It’s everywhere, all juicy and ready to be wrecked.

“God please—touch me, inside, anything.” You shiver, teeth chattering already. Maybe if you.. shove your ass out more, shoulders flat against the bed to show off the deepest arch. 

Sunghoon hisses, pressing kisses down the seam of your slit before pulling away with a curse. “And why should I give you anything? Because you’re dripping fucking wet? Acting like a desperate whore for cock?”

“Please—“ you sob, sinking into the bed deeper as he climbs on behind you and mounts your backside. “Wan—want it!”

“This?” He teases, so fucking meanly, jamming the tip of his cock against your fluttering hole. Pushing in just past his pre-cum soaked slit, he wraps around his length tightly, easing the tip half in and out. “Pussies fucking screaming for my cock baby girl.. want me to fuck you? Keep saying that shit.” He groans, pushing in further to feel your cunt snap around his cockhead. “And say my fucking name.”

“Hoon—ahh!” You shout, the side of your face fully pressed to the bed, chest caved against the sheets. The demanding slap he smacks your ass with makes your spine throb, resounding around the room like a crack. “Sunghoon! Fuck me! Fuck me please!”

Licking at the sweat gathered on his upper lip, he slinks lower to grip onto your hair. Knee sinking into the mattress, his other leg propped up for a balance. He could fuck you like this, he normally would.. 

“Want you to look at me when you cum.” He whispers, pulling until your mouth can full breath without the bed obstructing your oxygen. “Want you to say my name, look me in my eyes, tell me who fucks you this good.”

Fuck. 

That’s not what you want, not something you can handle in this submissive state. Popping free the tip, he sets you on your back without much effort. The dazed look written across your face telling him everything he needs to know. 

“Nu—“ you scramble to move back onto your front. Held down by big hands slamming onto your hips, chaining you to the bed with their powerful hold. 

“Don’t fucking move.” He appears offended that you even tried to disobey him. Caressing his palms down to spread your thighs open, he slams them to the bed. Angry red cock bouncing against his stomach as he makes space for himself and situating to find the perfect position. 

It feels helpless to try to move and fight against him, weak in comparison to his built up strength and hard muscles earned from countless hours in the gym. It wouldn’t hurt to try, of course, but the second his length swipes between your folds, you can’t help but to forget. Folding your hands over your chest as you watch his stomach tighten and release, grinding his hips forward to fuck against your sloppy wet aroused cunt. 

“Hoon—Sunghoon,” you breathe, losing more air by the second. Burning up from the body heat building from his flesh to yours. 

“Feel good baby?” He asks under his breath, continuing to torture you with the sensation of his heavy cock rubbing through your folds. Thick girth gleaming with your juices all over. “Like how I play with your pussy, don’t you.” He says proudly, loosening his grip on your thighs to press against your stomach. Slowly trailing upward to massage your breasts, lifting his head to watch your face fall apart. 

“Can-can’t, please, hurts.” Hurts so good, to be so close without getting what you want. What he must expect you to beg for, hardly able to form a sentence anymore. You arch into his warm palms squeezing and bouncing your chest, pinching your nipples before he shifts to your neck. 

“Look at me.” He commands, deep and raspy. “Look at me with those pretty eyes.”

“Ah, Sunghoon, please.” Blinking upward, you gasp, taking in his sculpted jawline, long neck, broad shoulders and defined chest. He’s a dream, a nightmare really, too good to be real. Dark eyes boring back into yours from where he looks down at you, grabbing your chin to hold you in place. 

“Just like that, don’t fucking look away.” 

Everything around you feels light as air, as if you’ve been lifted from the bed, floating on a cloud as he leans down and locks his lips to yours. 

It’s the loudest kiss he’s ever given you, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. He works slowly with your parted mouth, taking time to really hold your top and bottom lip before teasing his tongue between. Throbbing racks between your pressed bodies, eyes falling shut as his tongue slips inside and laps at yours, at the roof of your mouth. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

Too much the way his body crowds you with no space of your own. Cock pulsating against your core, chest beating violently pressed to yours. Mouth moving as if he mapped and memorized the inside of yours. Weak shaky hands find his shoulders, wanting to push him away, wanting to shove him off and spit in his face for doing this.

Because how could he do this to you?! Soar your sense to their precipice of carnal arousal, wipe your mind of all sensible thought. Only to bring you here, trapped beneath him, sucking his breath into your lungs until tears burst from your eyes.

“I know.” He mutters, tugging your bottom lip between his. Savoring the hot tears rolling down your cheeks to his hands. “I feel it too.”

No. You feel nothing. There is nothing to feel. 

“What we have, what you do to me.” He confesses, nose pressed to yours. “I don’t want this with anyone else. I don’t ever want you to have this with anyone besides me.”

So wrong, all wrong. So wrong that it feels right. Blinking your tears away with no other choice but to squeeze your eyes shut. You can’t do this, can’t accept what he’s trying to convince you of. 

“Look at me.” Sunghoon’s tone sounds more desperate than viscous, pinching your chest from within. “That’s all I ask of you, see me. See me for who you know I am.”

He ruts between your thighs, reminding you to listen as the tip catches on your hole. The cry for help behind his command, almost pitiful.. burning a hole through your heart as you fight between your blanked out mind and a whirlwind of emotions. 

“Can’t..” you barely whisper, eyes clenched shut, turning to dig your face deeper into the bed.

“Because I’m not him?” He whimpers brokenly, forehead landing against yours. Wet trickles of sweat cling to his dark eyelashes, mouth turned down at the corners. “Because I’m not my fucking brother?”

Between the arousal burning up to your chest and confusion causing a frenzy in your head, you can only whine, scratching down his shoulders. “Please don’t.”

“Why?” Slowing down his pace, he grips onto your jaw, twisting your face to look at him. “Why are you denying what we both feel?” 

“We shouldn’t, we shouldn’t feel—“

“Who says.” Reaching between your bodies, he wraps around his shaft. Slapping against your center as a warning. “Who says you’re not meant to be mine?”

The intrusion of his entire size cuts off any response, neck arched up as a silent scream flies from your lips. He circles between your hips to mold your cunt to his girth, grabbing onto your shoulders for leverage. “Who the fuck said you don’t belong to me.” 

This is too intimate, not even breaking into an immediate ruthless rhythm as soon as he penetrates you. He’s slow, stretching your walls around his size to accommodate him and make you comfortable. Fingers travel to your clit, leaving you no choice but to cover your mouth to suppress your moans. He pinches, flicking side to side, not even needing to judging by the puddle of wet slick arousal pooled beneath your ass.

“Sunghoon, that’s—“

“Gripping around me so good, you’re always so so good for me.” 

Regardless of your crazed out of whack emotions, your chest tightens when he praises you. Looking at you as if you hung the moon up for him on the starriest of nights. He returns to layer your mouth with kisses, wrapping your thighs over his hips. “Please, keep your eyes on me.” The whisper dances across your mouth, gasping as he begins to thrust and make you really feel each inch. 

There’s too much heat and moisture between your faces, wrapped around him akin to a clinging vine as he builds up speed and pulls out to the tip. Burying back in to release a gushing wet sound, a splatter of arousal all over his groin and thighs. 

“No one,” he murmurs, huffing staggered breaths over your mouth. “No one does this to me.”

No no no. You scratch at his biceps, shoulders, anything you can catch within your reach. He can’t, he can’t fucking do this.

It’s hard to tell what’s shaking anymore. Sunghoon’s heartbeat, your limbs, the bed beneath you. Everything hurts and feels good, as if your spines been ripped out and shaken around. Releasing stored up pain and anger, bringing to life new fears and worries. 

“The way we feel together.” He ruts in harder, hips snapping fiercely. Splitting you apart from your chest to the hot space between your thighs. “I want this forever.”

“Fuck!” You curss, head tossed back unable to keep your eyes open any longer. The combination of his terrifyingly honest words and cock ramming into you hits untouched nerves. Each sparking fires to life inside of you, burning your ligaments and muscles as an insane pressure forms in your stomach.

“Exactly like this.” He speaks in a low vibrato. Vocal chords shakey as he cups your jaw and presses your foreheads together. Blinking the glossy moisture attached to his clumped together eyelashes to meet yours. 

More than fucking you, he loves this. The way you try to maintain judgment toward him and fail. The look that can only be described as love winning every time. With your foreheads stuck together he drags your legs up, hoisting the backs of your knees onto his shoulders to really make you take it. 

That drives you over the edge, struggling to breathe in the tight position. Panic rises with your wide blown out eyes focused on his, chilling heat surrounding that pressure in your stomach. “Hoon!—Sungho—!!”

The pressure explodes around his cock nearly slipping his free from the amount of wetness that bursts around his length, continuing to jackhammer into you through your orgasm squirting down to his balls. They slap loudly against your ass with each pointed thrust, burying in deep. Savoring your tight heat sleeved around his length through the release that exposes the whites of your eyes.

The little breathy ah-ah-ah’s echoing out of your parted mouth urge on his erratic thrusts. Mounting you like a bitch in heat to get his cock sucked dry. He growls, slamming in once, twice more.

“I’m cumming!” He groans deeply, throat cracking as hot release spills inside of you painting your cervix with thick white strings of cream. Slow to pull out despite the sounds of your whimpered cries, he circles and empties inside of you where he belongs. 

“It’s okay..” he mumbles, sighing and throwing his head back with one last thrust to really push his seed deep inside of you. “I’m here, everything’s okay now.” He draws free with a lewd pop, splaying his fingers over your hole to keep everything inside as he adjusts to press against your back. “Was too much?”

His drawled tone vibrates against your damp hot skin, turning to drag your nose down his chest and burrow in the safety of his fresh scent. It was too much, and it’s his fault. Failing to regather yourself once your orgasm passed from the intense emotion taking over.

Without having to explain, he wraps around you and presses kisses to your head. This is what you needed, even if you don’t understand that yet. 

He needed to break down your false wall of hatred for him, to get you to see that this is where you belong. Right here in his arms, swallowed by his love, filled with it, cheek rested on his chest that thrums for you and only you.

Tomorrow. You’ll wake up and have a real honest discussion. No more games, no more lies. He started it, and now it’s your turn to face yourself. 

“Get some sleep angel.” He whispers, already keeping track of your shallow restless breathing pattern. “I’ll never stop taking care of you.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Beep

Beep

Beep

The sound of Sunghoon’s phone alarm going off jolts him from his sleep. Disoriented as he jerks and rubs at his eyes. Instinctively his hand reaches out for your warmth, rubbing over the area your body had last laid by his side only hours ago. 

Of course you’d already left, probably had to finish packing away your toiletries and belongings..

Which is exactly what he should be doing right now, yawning as he taps his phone and notes the time. “Shit.” 

Sunghoon groans, toppling out of the hotel bed to grab the last few things he needs to put away, deciding to skip the shower for now and just hop in once you reach Paris. The plane ride wouldn’t be a short one afterall.

Besides, the light aroma of your scent still clings to his skin. Dry tear stains appear on his hand, brushing his teeth as he admires them and contemplates not washing his hands off.

This is different. 

This was.. exactly what he’s been craving, chasing after ever since the first time he had you. It’s different with you, natural and easy. Nothing feels like an act when he’s with you. He tried to make it work with Miyeon in the beginning when his father had set them up but there was never any real connection, no chemistry. She clocked him for exactly what he is right from the start.

Maybe you did too, but that’s the difference, you make him feel safe. Safe to be himself without judgment, because for some God forsaken reason, you still like him.

Thinking about it all makes his chest hurt, makes his heart race speed up. The way you say his name, touch his body, resist him and give in every time. 

It shouldn’t have been this way, his brother shouldn’t have ever been an obstacle here. He didn’t want to do this, not after the last time they argued over a girl and he completely ignored Heeseung for a year. It was petty and immature, but he was young and she was his first love, first obsession really.

Heeseung’s never put in as much effort as Sunghoon. Everything’s just so fucking easy for him. Who knows why.. maybe because he doesn’t care as much, doesn’t worry about things that are beyond his control.

That’s never been an option for Sunghoon. He can only care, that’s the only option he’s ever been given, and he does care. He keeps up a strong facade to hide how much he cares but he feels everything. There’s a part of him that hopes you see that- you get it. You relate and understand why he’s built up walls around his heart, because growing up with nothing but constant pain can only make you so hard. 

Sunghoon wanted to work through it, he didn’t want to be cold and closed off, but nothing ever seemed worth melting the protective shield of ice for.

Until he met you.

Heeseung would have to be understanding, besides, how could you want him after this? He’s so beneath you, choosing booze over your love.

Sunghoon smiles to himself, lips dragging across his knuckles. It’s his time to win.

Today is a new day, everything about today feels different. The air smells fresher, his stride lighter, the pressure he’s used to feeling on his chest gone. 

Assuming you and Heeseung have already made your way downstairs, he preps himself for how awkward this flight could be. What if you all get stuck seated together again? It’d be for the best to wait until you’re settled into your new hotel in France. You can all sit down and discuss this as mature adults.

Every part of him shouts against that- why the hell should he maintain maturity after putting up with his brother's unruly behavior for years now? He should rub everything in his face, that damn loser.. 

No. You wouldn’t like that.. your hearts too good. You still see the good in Heeseung, destined to believe his fraudulent facade of this nice emotional guy that just had a tough life.

Who can take him seriously? Their dad is a freaking millionaire. So what if their mom died, suck it up and grow some balls. 

Ah, but your feminine compassion would never see where Sunghoon’s coming from. He can be rational, great at negotiating, well trained by his father to set his bar high and demand all expectations to be met. You can’t come in guns ablaze, jumping off hot from the start. He has to play cool, get you to let his brother down easily, let you have your mourning period. 

Yes, everything will pan out wonderfully once you scrub Heeseung out of your life. Out of both of your lives.

“Ah great, look who decided to show up!” Mr. Park greets loudly greets. Interrupting his inner dialogue as he roughly pats his shoulder. “Slept in did you? Well, just in time son, I was just about to order the taxi.”

“Shouldn’t we wait?” Sunghoon looks at the elevator area again, expecting for you to appear any minute now.

“Wait for what?” Your mom asks, fixing the new luxury brand scarf tied around her purse. 

“Uhh, for Heeseung and—“

“Oh they left hours ago son.” His dad informs nonchalantly, motioning for them to move outside to wait for their car. “Probably didn’t want to wake you from your beauty sleep.”

“What?? Why would they leave before us?” Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrow, throwing his bag onto the cart with the other luggages- not missing that yours is nowhere to be seen.

“They found a really early train ride to Germany last night. I told Heeseung to take a later one and enjoy the rest of the day here but he was really eager to explore Frankfurt.” Continuing to speak complete nonsense that Sunghoon can’t comprehend only worries him further. Annoyed by how evasive and casual his father speaks.

“What do you mean Germany? I thought we were flying to France.”

“We are sweetie.” Your mom laughs, confused as well. “Heeseung and your sister are the ones going to Germany to visit different universities.” 

Universities?! In Germany?!

Sunghoon’s jaw drops, blinking repeatedly, his father whistling to get in the cab before he can continue to ask more questions.

None of this makes sense. Why the hell would you and Heeseung be in Germany of all places, looking at schools?! He has to be dreaming, that’s it. Stuffed into the backseat alone, he pats around his phone, immediately finding your last text messages.

Sunghoon: ‘Good Morning, where are you?’

Text Message Failed To Send

Watching the green bubble instantly pop up confuses him all the more, tongue pinched between his teeth annoyed. Must be the international service messing up.. or maybe you really are on a train, somewhere between mountains where messages can’t reach you right now..

Sunghoon: ‘I thought we were going to France next, what’s this deal about Germany? Are you with Heeseung?’

Text Message Failed To Send

Fuck. This really a dream, a bad dream. 

None of this makes sense, not after yesterday, not after you fell asleep with him, curled up together in his arms..

“Hoon! What the hell is wrong with you this morning, hurry up.” His dad hollers from outside of the parked car, already standing with their belongings. “We have a flight to catch, wake your ass up.”

Shit, they’re already at the airport. The entire security checkpoint feels like a mirage, desperately racking his brain for an answer to what the hell could possibly be going on right now. Why in the hell would you be looking at universities? You’re both already enrolled for next year?

He has to text Heeseung, there’s no other choice.

Sunghoon: ‘Where are you?’

There’s no way he can get on this plane now. What’s the point if you’re not here, why wouldn’t you be here?! This is your dream trip, especially France. 

Heeseung: ‘Hey bro :) Expected to hear from you sooner.’

Motherfucker.

Sunghoon: ‘What the fucknis going on, why are you in Germany???’

Heeseung: :)

Gripping his phone hard enough to form a crack on the screen if he went on any longer, he growls, teeth grinding together. What the fuck is his brother up to.

Moving to a quieter area, he watches your parents sit down at the gate, biting on his thumb nail before pounding the key to call his brother.

“Sunghoon.” He answers flatly, not even bothering to allow more than one ring.

“Heeseung, where the fuck are you right now?! What did you do to her—“

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Heeseung interrupts, having stepped away from the fancy train cart his father purchased for the both of you to travel to Germany in. “She’s doing just fine, happier than ever.”

Pinching between his eyebrows, he paces back and forth listening to his older brother, palm swiping down his face. “What’s going on Heeseung.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” The older clicks his tongue, scoffing under his breath. “It’s over Hoon, this stupid game of yours. It’s done.”

“What the hell are you talking about man?!” Sunghoon hisses, slamming his fist against a nearby wall. “Where is she?!?”

“Away from you.” Heeseung says calmly, the smile behind his voice disappearing. “For good.”

“Heeseung.. you’re pissing me off.”

“Good.” He replies promptly, taking a deep breath. “You’ve pissed me off long enough, both of us. Can’t just let me have one thing can you?”

“She’s not yours to have.”

“She doesn’t want you.” Heeseung corrects snidely, glaring at the view passing by from the train. “What we have can really be something special. I care for her, unlike you. I can’t have you interfering anymore.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t care about her?” Sunghoon asks, throat drying, chewing on his lip. “You can’t fucking do this.”

“Watch me.” Heeseung whistles, checking the time. “You have a flight to catch in a few minutes I believe.”

“If you do this I’ll never forgive you.” Sunghoon grits, fist balled up by his hip.

A pause falls between the line, silently sharing a few intakes of air. “Goodbye brother.”

“Heeseung!” 

“And don’t bother trying to contact her anymore. This is over. I win.”

The line falls flat, dead tone ringing through Sunghoon’s head. There’s no way his brother managed to pull this off, and you? You knew all along.. even yesterday.

Slumping against the wall, he takes a long deep breath, checking his text messages that won’t reach you.

Sunghoon: ‘This isn’t over.’

Text Message Failed To Send

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

~one year later~

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Mmmhm..” you groan, rolling onto your side and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “S’too early babe.”

“Too early?!” He gasps dramatically, setting down a tray of your favorite food in front of your face. The aroma enough to fully open your gaze up and land on the plate adorned with your favorite croissant, sprinkled with powdered sugar and almond slices.

“You didn’t..”

“Of course I did,” Heeseung’s smile widens, on his knees by the bed you share. His chin propped on top of his folded arms as he leans in and watches you yawn away your last bits of sleep. “Happy anniversary baby.”

“You must have woke up over an hour ago to get this fresh..” you note bashfully, sitting up with a lazy grin. “Thank you. Happy anniversary. Can’t believe it’s already been one year.”

“Times gone by so fast, too fast.” He perks up, shoving the tray closer to you. “Drink before your coffee gets cold.”

“You shouldn’t have done all this.. you’re gonna be so tired at work.” You say between munching on a piece of the best almond croissant you’ve ever had. Moaning as it slides down your throat with a sip of coffee. “Here I am sleeping in while you run around Paris to get my favorite breakfast..”

“It’s nothing.” He affirms, moving onto the bed to stroke your hair away from your face. “Besides, I’m really sorry I couldn’t get today off. Really wanted to spend today with you laying in bed all day..”

“Just in bed?” You ask flirtatiously, lifting an eyebrow.

Heeseung bites down on his lip, moving closer to kiss your bare shoulder. “We do have the best time here..”

“We have tomorrow baby, don’t feel bad. Hate that I couldn’t get tonight off either, but at least tomorrow is all ours.” You frown, pecking his cheek. “One day doesn’t make that big of a difference.”

“Tomorrow, you’re not ready for what I have in store for you tomorrow..” Heeseung grins mischievously, getting up already dressed for work. Bending in to plant a kiss on your lips, he lets out a sad sigh, standing up and nodding to the tray of food. “Eat.”

“See you later, baby love.” As much as you try to smile, you can’t stop the corners of your lips from dragging down as you get up to hug him and wave him off from the front door of your shared loft.

It’s been a year now of taking the train to school together. Venturing around the city of your dreams, of holding hands and stealing kisses in dark corners. A year of peace, dreams you couldn’t have foreseen coming to fruition without Heeseung by your side.

A year of a healthy, calming, nice relationship.

365 days of photos in frames, nights falling asleep on the couch, lying to your parents via email, text messages, international phone calls..

Well, it’s not completely lying if you never claimed to not share a bed with your step-brother. Your parents know that you live together, they don’t need to know the details.

A year of introducing Heeseung as your boyfriend and not your step-brother.

A year of smiles, laughs, hours and hours of love making..

A year without his presence. Without mentioning him again, erasing his existence, pretending that what led you here in the first place had nothing to do with him..

A year to figure yourself out, all thanks to Heeseung’s help. Without him you’d really be lost still, tugged between two different paths that could have altered your current present. 

It hasn’t been easy, but this relationship has really taught you to learn how to compromise now that you’ve been serious, going on ten months of calling it official. Heeseung respected your wishes to take it slow despite how you started off, really proved himself and got help. Fully committed to you, and hasn't touched alcohol since your time in Italy.  

This is what you deserve to have, the most loving gorgeous boyfriend who adores you and worships at your feet.

Not some obsessed lunatic that blackmails you, threatens and manipulates every decision you make.. 

Things are good now.

Even as you sit on the couch in your dream loft watching old episodes of Sex & The City alone, you have to feel grateful. Carrie got her girlhood dream of Paris and romance, and you have too..

She had the Russian, and you have your step-brother.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“I have a gift for you.”

“Babeee come on! We said no gifts!”

“Pfft,” Heeseung brushes your whining off. He’s done enough from running you both a bath last night after eating the dinner you cooked, to the amazing croissants he woke you up with. “What kind of boyfriend would I be to not have something prepared for our first anniversary?”

“But I didn’t get you much.” You pout, following his movements as he unveils a neatly wrapped box from beneath your bed. “And we agreed to not splurge!”

“You deserve to be splurged on. Besides, I know there’s something you’ve been wanting to do ever since we moved here and well..”

“You didn’t.” Reaching for your chest, you curl into yourself to sedate your excitement. He sets the gift onto your lap, shifting closer to be directly by your side.

“Come on, open it.”

“Ahh, okay..” Heeseung’s smile only grows as you gently untie the gift, biting down on his lip when you begin to open up the box. “Oh my God.”

“It’s for tonight.”

“You got me tickets to Phantom at the Paris Opera house?” You knew it had to be coming. Never failing to mention that you couldn’t wait for the Phantom of The Opera to be on the calendar. 

“Happy anniversary baby.” 

“This is way better than what I got you..” you sniffle, clutching the box to your chest. “Can’t believe we’re finally going.” 

“But first! We have to grab a drink.” He exclaims, catching you off guard.

“A drink?”

Heeseung staggers for a moment, blinking at you slowly. “Coffee, to wake us up.”

“Oh of course, I’n going to need it after this week’s work load.” 

“Alright, go finish getting ready my love, I’m going to clean up a little around here before we head out.”

“Thank you Hee, I won’t take too long.”

“Take your time.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

These are great seats, a spectacular balcony view of the stage. They must have cost a fortune. You wouldn’t dare to ask. Of course your parents still provide some type of allowance, enough to cover rent and tuition, a few bills, but with the jobs you’ve both acquired they’ve really been hard asses about making you work for your ‘fun money’ these days.

“This was always my favorite scene.” Heeseung whispers, squeezing around your hand.

Little Lotte? 

To avoid being shushed by the elderly couple neighboring your side, you furrow your eyebrows at him in confusion. Who the hell loves Little Lotte? Interesting. 

Angel of music? The music of the night? All I ask of you? The phantom of the opera? The point of no return? 

You’d have to remember to ask about that at dinner later. Odd choice out of an immaculate score, but Heeseung has always had a more unique taste. Perhaps you leaned toward the more predictable, having gone through your various favorites over the years of attending performances. 

It was when you were thirteen attending your 20th or some performance of Phantom, you landed on a final favored choice. 

Maybe it was the surge of hormones, or maybe you were just crazy. But the point of no return struck a chord that evening that had never been hit before. 

The hidden lust, the fear, the desire and crave. 

Christine was the real actress during that performance, she put on an act, leading the Phantom to believe her feelings resonated with his. Switching the manipulation he trained her with against him, exposing his vulnerability before unveiling a monstrous face for the last time. 

The pain. The suffering. The tortured love that could have been a bountiful happy ending without Raoul’s existence. It’s so tragically beautiful. 

There had been a time when Christine had annoyed you, why would she purposely seduce the Phantom only to lead him to his hell, his demise. He loved her, he wanted to be with her, he needed her.

Even now as you watch her twirl around on stage, toying with the Phantom’s weak mind, you feel annoyed. She did it because of Raoul, she did it to escape him.

Past all thought of if or when, no use resisting

Abandon thought and let the dream descend

What raging fire shall flood the soul?

What rich desire unlocks its door?

What sweet seduction lies before us?

Heat springs to the backs of your eyes as they move in fluid motion, unlocking his hold to allow her to prance around flirtatiously. Each touch between them is barely there, begging to be more. The tremble through his fingers, shaking you to the core. It’s all so raw, too real, zoning your vision in on the blaring loud chemistry between them. The way he frames around her pleading to know the secrets they can learn of each other.

The first tear to break free and trickle down to your chin parts a gasp through your lips, back stiffened as you sit straight. 

Past the point of no return, no going back now

Our passion play has now at last begun

Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question

How long should we two wait before we're one?

When will the blood begin to race?

The sleeping bud bursts into bloom?

When will the flames at last consume us?

Christine’s temptress vocals swarm around you, repeating the quiet ‘I love you’s never said out loud, only screaming in your mind. The Phantom sways to her tune, lost in the act she puts on for him. Because she is his weakness, only she can destroy him.

Tears spill out faster when their hands finally touch, and she runs, she tries to run away. Because he’s a monster, he’ll ruin her.

The half concealed face comes to light, sharing a moment of silence between them now that she knows, now that he knows. This game of lies and manipulation is over, it’s done. And Raoul stands with a gun pointed, prepared to save Christine from this monster, from this angel trapped in hell..

Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime

Lead me, save me from my solitude

Say you want me with you here, beside you

Anywhere you go, let me go too

Christine, that's all I ask of—-

The most bone shattering cry of ‘no!’ racks a sob up your chest, jumping in your seat as the sound of a gun shoots off, and you know what’s coming. He has no choice but to steal her away, they’ve reached the end. 

“Babe?” Heeseung whispers faintly at your side, gripping your hand firmly, thumb soothing over your knuckles. It’s impossible to hold in your tears any longer, knowing the doom destined to meet their would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. 

It never gets easier to watch, the utter despair, lack of humanity. Christine turning her back away only to return with a kiss, a real kiss. The Phantom’s first real kiss from the only one that showed him love that his mother couldn’t.

Oh fuck.

Hounded out by everyone. Met with hatred everywhere. No kind words from anyone. No compassion anywhere..

Why, he cries, why?!?

It never hurt this much before, never made sense. Never once before could you see yourself in Christine’s place.

Because you would have never chosen Raoul. 

It’s in your soul that the true distortion lies.

“Here.” A sleeve lifts to your face, your near perfect boyfriend offering you a makeshift handkerchief. Because he knows what to do, he knows the right thing to do to bring a smile to your face. 

He once begged for forgiveness for his wrong doings created by his own Phantom. Never deserved any of what was brought upon him.

He deserves better.

You deceived me, I gave my mind blindly

If there is one thing you’ve learned through your matured eyes, it’s that you and Christine Daaé have more in common than you would have predicted at thirteen. You’re both terrible liars.

This is the point of no return.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You’re so cute.” Heeseung’s eyes wrinkle at the corners, dabbing off a tear clinging on your chin. 

“Stopppp.” You whine, huffing from embarrassment as you make it to your seats and thank the hostess for escorting you.

“I didn’t think you’d be this emotional.”

“I’m sensitive.” You mutter cheekily, glaring at him.

“Can’t believe you’re still crying.”

Heeseung’s smile couldn’t be more endeared, leaning over to dab your cheeks before another tear can trail down. He laughs quietly, kissing your cheek. 

“It’s a big deal!” You gush, fanning yourself to calm down. “Feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment forever.”

“You told me you’ve seen Phantom of The Opera hundreds of times?” He says, nose scrunching up with a confused look. “Weren’t you even a part of the theater club, monthly subscription and all?”

“Yes!” Continuing to sniffle, you playfully smack his arm for mumbling about what a dork you are, letting out a long sigh. “But at the Paris opera house?! I’ll never forget this. It’s been at the top of my bucket list for years.”

“It was really beautiful,” he shrugs, appearing deep in thought. “Music was great.”

“The music, the passion.” Sighing dreamily, you clutch your chest, reaching to hold his hand. “I could see hundreds of more renditions and none would ever come close to this one.”

The way you squeeze his hand in yours draws a smile on his lips, laying his other hand on top to sandwich you between. “I’d only ever seen the black and white film before. I guess that’s my one complaint, kind of expected more of a horror or thriller because of that.” He hums, lifting his hands to kiss your knuckles. “The way they romanticized it was a little weird.”

Romanticized?

Squinting at him, you lean in closer. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Erik, the Phantom.” He nods, looking you in the eye. “He’s a monster.”

He’s a what?

You can feel your face morph to one of surprise instantaneously, jaw loose as you try to register what he means. “It’s not a horror story Hee.. Erik loves Christine.”

“Loves?!” He laughs boisterously, dropping your hand to grab onto the dinner table. “No way you’ve seen that play as much as you have and think he loves her. He’s a murderer.”

“Wait wait wait, no,” shaking your head, you poke at his chest. “You don’t get it. He’s been mistreated his entire life by everyone. He doesn’t know how to love until he meets Christine.”

Heeseung blinks at you slowly with one eyebrow raised. “He doesn’t meet her, he stalks her!” He scoffs, laughing under his breath. “Wow, so you—you wanted her to end up with the Phantom instead of Raoul?”

“What? Of course I did!” You stress, attempting to keep your voice down to not draw attention from the others around enjoying their meals. “Everyone does, like oh my God? He loves her—he’s her fucking angel!”

Heeseung continues to laugh, scratching at his nape wide eyed. “Oh you’re serious. You really watched her get chased around by this psychopath who threatens and stalks her and got love from that?”

Well. When you put it that way.

“You don’t get it.” You slump defeated, forcing yourself to not frown.

He watches you for a minute, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “I think I do actually.” 

Tension weighs thick between the two of you, ignoring how serious his gaze has turned, you fake a smile and glance around waiting for your order to arrive. “It’s just a play.”

“Right. It’s just a play.”

“It’s not just a play to you though.” He hums, picking at the basket of bread you’ve both been eating from. “You have books, listen to the soundtrack often, watch the movies.. you’re a big phan, as you’ve told me.”

“I mean, it’s all fictional.” You shrug, ignoring the large blaring elephant that’s entered the restaurant. 

“That one you read, that was like your little Phantom porn.” He snorts, remembering how you’d curl up in bed and proceed to feel him up after finishing a chapter. “Wasn’t Raoul his brother in that one? He was Erik’s older brother, right?”

Now, why would he remember that, and why right now.

“Uhm yeah, there’s a few renditions where the authors canoned them as siblings.” You admit, doing your best to sound casual. 

“I wonder why they do that?”

“Oh well, you know, brothers.. that’s like a thing. A common trope often used in fictional stories.”

“Only fictional stories?” He says playfully, keeping his demeanor calm. “So, who would you choose for Christine?”

There’s no more playfulness behind his tone, finishing the question with a tight lip, he slightly arches an eyebrow.

“I mean, I know you don’t get it but she should have picked Phantom.” You say confidently, shaking your head. “He brought out her voice.”

“From this play I’ve really learned more about her relationship with Raoul though, how they knew each other as kids.” He recounts, leaning in close with his chin resting on his palm. “I think she really liked him, she knew him. Their connection went deeper than the forced bond Erik manipulated her into believing they have.”

It’s pointless to argue about it, even if you have to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks and the beat in your chest speeding up. “You wouldn’t get it..”

Heeseung’s lips part for a minute ready to drag this out, slamming them shut and opting to lean back in his seat when he sees the corners of your lips sink down. “Sorry, I know you really love the story. Guess I was curious to understand what you love about it.”

“I love their love.” You sigh, nervously fiddling with your dress between your fingers. “That they connected through her voice, his music. It could have gone differently if she had seen him as a man and not a monster.”

“But he is a monster.” He reiterates, rubbing at his nape in disbelief. “He stalks her, hides behind mirrors to watch her practice from, he even kidnaps her!”

Heeseung tries to hold back his thoughts, but even he can’t deny the same eerie feeling that ignited in him when you broke down in tears. You feel bad, you feel bad for not choosing the unloved monster that took advantage of you, that somehow infiltrated your heart.

He knows it and you know it. The name neither of you ever mentioned lingers around your relationship. Unfinished sentences of ‘this reminds me of—‘ solidify tension between you whenever Heeseung pauses and nods as if to affirm your non-negotiated agreement.

One day you were in Italy, the next in Germany, holed up together in a hotel room too afraid to speak. Everything became too real when he pleaded with you to explain everything once you got onto the train.

‘Dad always wanted me to do more with my life.’ Heeseung had explained once you settled in your cart, hollowed lines heavy beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. ‘Hoon’s obviously going to be his predecessor, the next to run the company. I never wanted to follow my father’s footsteps. I wanted to enjoy my life, a normal life that my mom would have wanted for me. I promised her I wouldn’t let dad run my future the way he has with Sunghoon, down to even who he should marry.’

It slipped out before he realized, shifting his gaze away hoping you wouldn’t question what he meant by that. Their dad had tried to set him up with Miyeon first, laying out the plan that he would wed her someday and merge their companies. Sunghoon running the Park’s business while Heeseung married his place into the Cho’s. It was his perfect plan to ensure wealth and success, to prepare both of his sons for the future that they’d have to exist in without him.

Heeseung had refused, already invested in his relationship with Jina, Sunghoon’s childhood crush. Mr. Park yelled, screamed, deemed him useless and misguided. Ruined by the years spent with his mother, he turned soft in comparison to his younger brother who has only hardened up and built a powerful shell around himself under their father’s care. Or lack thereof.

Sunghoon sat in silence as their father threatened Heeseung, told him to pack his shit up and find someone else to house him, to feed him, to pay for his bullshit. The denial of his wishes never led to anything good.

The younger cursed to himself, sitting up straight. ‘I will court Miyeon.’

Despite their differences, they had attempted to rebuild their sibling relationship. They started to play basketball at night, occasionally laughing when the other would miss a shot. They’d work out together, even went out to a couple of concerts and parties together. Heeseung never wanted to cut his brother off, only respected what he believed to be his wishes after Jian had chosen him and Sunghoon spit in his face.

Jian was a year older than Heeseung, she introduced herself to him the first day at his new school. It was scary to enter a high school he was completely unfamiliar with, but smitten Jian made it as easy as possible, sticking by his side before confessing at the end of the day that she like likes him.

The memory was so innocent and childish, the leap into each other's hearts in less than 24 hours of meeting. It’s something you can really only experience once in your life when you’re young and haven’t experienced how cruel the world can be.

Heeseung’s first love was Sunghoon’s first heartbreak. 

The stood outside of his younger brother’s middle school hand-in-hand, giggling to each other happily about the titles of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’.

Sunghoon dropped his book bag upon seeing them, screaming out angrily, he jab between your conjoined hands and flew into a tantrum. 

Over the next year he got over it- he tried to get over it. All while ignoring Heeseung’s existence. Nothing he did could change the younger’s attitude toward him. Every remark held bitterness, every question carried hatred, every interaction left them both uneasy and anxious.

Heeseung tried to explain, he really liked Jian, and she really liked him. But Sunghoon refused to listen, scolding him for stealing the crush he wasn’t even aware of. It wasn’t the ideal way to rekindle their brotherly love, after being selected during quintessential years of frontal lobe development. 

But the older never gave up, hoping that one day his brother would come around, and he did. They never really felt as close as they did as kids, but they had something—and that was enough. 

Hugs turned into nudges and pats on the backs. Sunghoon never came to him when he was upset the way he used to as children. He kept interaction at school minimal, and treated him more as a roommate at home than a brother. But it was something, and that’s better than nothing.

‘My father never saw eye to eye with me. I hated the whispers that flew around when I came back to live with them. That I was just this spoiled rich kid, son of the mogul Park. Sunghoon’s older brother who undoubtedly wiped his ass with hundred dollar bills. I wasn’t accustomed to this life anymore.’

‘Because you had been living with your mom..’

‘Yes, and she took us away from all of this. My grandparents mostly raised me, mom.. had a drinking problem too. She sort of unlocked the door to mine. I’ve been told addiction can be passed on, genetics you know. I wanted to save her but she abused her body day in and day out and I thought I could be better than that. That I could save myself since I failed to save her.’

‘You were a kid..’

And Sunghoon, both too naive and childish to carry the burden of selfish adult problems. Both damaged and scarred by the choices of the ones that were meant to protect them, keep them safe from these harmful coping habits.

‘I was.’ Heeseung had agreed, pulling pieces of his hair between his fingers. ‘I thought I could find the strength to let shit go, grow up without these demons following me. I couldn’t , and just like my brother loves to remind me, I’m a fucking failure.’

‘But you got help Hee.’

‘I did, after coming home one night after Jian had broken up with me before heading to college, I got wasted.’ He shamefully admits. ‘I fucked up bad, but the break up was so sudden, she didn’t want a boyfriend back home preventing her from having fun in another state. Not during her first year of college..’

‘I’m sorry..’

It’s hard to hear about your first loves first love, comforting your ego and trying to hide your jealousy. You urged him to continue. Hands held in both of yours, squeezing each time he found himself at a loss for words

‘We had a huge fight that night, Hoonie and I.’ Pain etched through his soft features, blinking back tears. ‘He’s hated me ever since, maybe he always hated me.’

‘Why would he..’

‘What he said to me that night, about our mom.. blamed me for not taking proper care of her. Screamed at me that she should have kept him, that he would have done what I’m not man enough to do. Just like Jina would have still been with him. He really beat me to a pulp with a few words.. after this I don’t have any faith in repairing this relationship with my brother. He doesn’t care if I live or die, blames me for everything that’s never gone his way in life..’

Unfair, that’s really the only way to put it. Unfair the same way Raoul banished Erik for his monstrous appearance to live in hiding, a dark family secret. 

Both born into wealth, granted a life of ease, both torn apart by their obsession with love. Heeseung needed his father, he needed Sunghoon, after everything he went through with their mother. He needed someone to treat him like their son that had been to hell and back, still alive to retell the tale. He needed the love his father denied him, the love his mother wasted away in favor of her own vices.

Sunghoon in-denial, needed love more than he can even begin to understand. He takes and takes and takes, never sees harm in his actions. The obsession to be loved, needed, wanted, cherished, it tears him from inside out. He covers it up with the most perfect facade. No one would question someone with their shit so together that not even a hair is out of place. 

Sunghoon.. banished his own true self, the snotty nose child that would cry in his mother’s arms. That clung to her leg screaming bloody murder when she headed in a different direction with Heeseung. Begging and crying for her to take him, for her to love him too.

They both are so so fucked up, and your presence has only put the spotlight directly on them.

‘I made a deal with my father, we’d go to Germany to visit a couple of universities, then Poland, Spain, France, anywhere. I researched a few of the schools with the best architectural programs. He was really happy to hear that- said I’m finally taking my future serious. And I mentioned how you always talk about studying hospitality and fashion, the luxury high-end brands that cater to the elite. From clothing to home decor and lifestyle. Your mom overheard, and thankfully jumped in. We started looking up the train schedule soon after and booking places we can stay.’

‘School? In Europe? But that would mean—‘

‘That we get away from him.’ Heeseung said coldly, forcing a smile. ‘That we can have a chance at a healthy real relationship. Me and you alone, no more unnecessary interference, no more worrying about what Sunghoon will try next to divide us.’

No more Sunghoon, his existence expunged from your reality. You had cried, uttered the words, and Heeseung absorbed each one, swallowed down your tears, let them incinerate his throat. He did this for you, for the ‘us’ you should be.

“He’s misunderstood.” You mumble softly, hoping to change the subject as your plates are set down.

“Ah, you’re right, I’m wrong.” He laughs sarcastically, brushing off the conversation. Well, this isn’t awkward at all now. At least you can talk about the meals you ordered, fawning over how good the seasoning is on the potatoes. 

“Try this.” You say cheerfully, reaching your fork toward his lips. He loves it, of course, you have a lot in common. Agree on movies, music, food, have even found your missing shirts in Heeseung’s pile of clothes. Down to the fabrics you both prefer, everything makes sense. Maybe you’re soulmates.

That’s right. Soulmates bonded together by the unforeseen marriage your parents would have someday, failed to be torn apart by his own brother.

“It’s a nice night out.” Heeseung breathes out happily, slinging his arm around your shoulder.

“Really is, the weather's great.”

“Oooh, this must be new?” You stop to admire a quaint lit up building, many dressed formally and casual entering while chatting and laughing. “Wanna check it out?”

Nodding, you make it to the entrance only to stop, tugging his arm close to your chest. “Oh it’s a bar..”

“Oh.” Heeseung swallows uncomfortably, taking a step back.

“It’s fine babe, we both have work tomorrow anyway.”

He still hesitates, shifting from foot to foot before agreeing that you should continue on your way home. It never gets easier, not much of a loss to you, other than the occasional glass of wine you crave once in a while. 

Heeseung’s worked too hard to stay clean, he does it for you. He does it for both of you. That’s how healthy relationships work, you can skip out on a drink for fun to help him stay sober. Even if it means missing out on Paris nightlife.

“Ah, I totally forgot!” He pipes up to break the tense atmosphere, stuffing his hands inside of his pockets. “Deftones announced a tour!”

“What!” You exclaim, wrapping around his waist to keep him pressed to your side, walking synchronized with long steps. “We have to go!”

“Ah, I wish.” He sighs, throwing his arms around your upper half. “You know every western artist forgets that Europe exists.”

“No tour dates here? Really?”

“Unfortunately. Another cool tour we’ll have to miss out on. Can’t wait until we finish our degrees and move back.” He says too calmly for your liking, stepping over your own feet. Nearly stumbling if not for him holding onto you. 

“Oh.” 

Move back? Since when has moving back ever been a part of the plan? Once you settled in France and enrolled into a new university, you never discussed the possibility of moving back..

“Can you picture it? I’ll design our first house, call us the Brady bunch the way I’ll be mapping out the blueprints once we find the perfect land.” He speaks dreamily, unaware of the meltdown happening in your head. “We’d have to move kind of far from our parents.”

And him. The one he won’t mention.

“What do you think? More of an oceanic view? Green scenery?”

“Uhh, ah fuck.” Clutching your head, you escape from his hold. “Sorry sorry.. migraine hit out of nowhere.”

“Ah, and I don’t have any medicine on me. Well we’re not too far from home, should I flag down a cab?”

“No no it’s fine, lets just walk. Think all of that crying just got to me.”

It’s only a few more minutes to your loft. Faking a headache wasn’t really the best choice, but one uncomfortable conversation had you at your limit. 

“Wish we had time for..” Heeseung drags on, smoothing your hair away from your face. “I know it’s late, you’re tired, I’m tired.”

Ah, the reality of modern romance. The false idea of work life balance can kill the energy you once had for hours of love making.

Fucking really.

You hit missionary plenty of times, laid under his weight, accepting slow deep thrusts between your thighs. Easier than jerking him off for 30 minutes until he cums. 

“You can keep it inside of me tonight.” You grin, not wanting to drag on the sour taste in your mouth that grows more with each thing he says. 

You’re annoyed, that’s all. Rarely ever annoyed by him but you can’t stop replaying what he said.

Move back, Heeseung wants to move back. He doesn’t want to live your dream in Paris. He’s not in love with the city of love, he’s in love with you. His dream is that you give up yours for his..

Love means making sacrifices, right? And you had your time in Paris. He even took you to the opera house. Why wouldn’t he start the discussion of more serious matters like the future you can achieve together? 

Maybe it’s because this is your first serious relationship, but isn’t it too soon to consider having a family? Can it even be considered too soon given the circumstances that led you to live together before ever committing to each other?

This isn’t a normal relationship, he still is your step-brother contrary to the description you’ve curated for him during your time here alone. 

If you tell him you want to stay here, will he still leave? He’s mentioned missing his friends, the food back home, the convenience of driving everywhere. Things you don’t dwell on much because you assumed he was falling in love with not only you, but the city you discover together.

Heeseung leaving you to fulfill his happiness could very well happen. He’d move back without you, build a home for his future family, find a woman who really deserves his love.

Not with you. 

Imagining all of that really does make your head throb now, pardoning yourself to use the restroom and clean off before bed. He follows you to brush his teeth before stepping out, patting your behind on his way out.

How naive of you to think this could be it. That you found love this easily, in what reality do people fall in love with the first person they ever hold a serious relationship with? Sure, it happens, but why would it happen to you.

Anxiety only builds as you wash your face and start to think about it more.

What if..

What if you made the wrong choice? What if you picked Raoul over Phantom?

That—that’s a ridiculous thought. You have to laugh, not even paying attention to your hand reaching for your drawer to slide it open all of the way. There’s a jewelry box shoved to the back, not hidden, not intentionally hidden..

He’d never know why you placed it so far back, never assume it’s because of the black pearls tucked away inside that make your chest ache whenever you allow yourself to glimpse at them. 

You never wear them, not since that day. He had said they looked beautiful on you. Taken photos of you, admired them and even saved some to his phone.. 

They’re cold to the touch, much like the faded memory of his smooth cool skin gliding beneath your fingertips. That stupid God damn day at the Vatican should have never happened. It should have been Heeseung.

Because Sunghoon’s smile from behind his phone as he snapped photos of you, the side of his face and wide shimmering eyes taking in all of the artwork, and the warmth when your bodies would brush together. All of it replays behind your eyes at least once per week. 

It feels like cheating at times, to still harbor feelings for your love's enemy.. 

You traveled past the point of no return the day you granted him access to your heart, and somehow that bastard figured it out. He fucking knew you were ready to fall from grace, allow him to lead you into temptation. 

So unfair, it’s so unfair for you too. Because you should have never made it this far with either of them. Lust and love read all the same when you’re riding the highest of highs. When you are also desperate to be loved and wanted.

You gave them both everything you could muster, and now here you stand, close to nothing. Close to losing the basket you placed all of your eggs in, longing for the one that maybe got away..

You should donate the pearls, pawn them off and buy Heeseung a new gaming console. Something to lighten the load of guilt weighing heavy on your back.

Heeseung may leave one day, you may never see him again. It’d be fine because you’d never have to wonder ‘what if’. You had your magical romance, and you’d change nothing about it really..

Except one thing.

Because that one thing will always be a ‘what if’, even in your next relationship you will find yourself flashing back to those memories you can’t part ways with. The hole that grows larger in your chest, you’ll try to fill it and fail over and over again.

Sunghoon, he’ll always be that open ended question with endless possible answers..

Gripping onto the pearls, you suck down a sob itching at your throat. He stopped chasing you, and you can’t even blame him. 

The guilt that encompassed your soul on that train to Germany kept your eyes wide awake as Heeseung slept against your shoulder. Leaving him behind in that hotel bed without so much as a goodbye, handing your phone over to Heeseung to erase his brother’s existence.

It was the right thing to do, that’s why you’re here one year later, finally living and loving.

“Come onnnn baby, come to bed.” Heeseung leans against the door, big doe eyes blinking away glossy moisture from needing to sleep. “Wanna cuddle with you before I knock out.”

“I’ll be right there.” You smile, swallowing the gasp lodged in your throat. Subtly shutting the jewelry box shut while hiding your surprise. He wouldn’t know who bought you that necklace anyway. You never said, never wore it, but the rush of guilt that hits at the thought of him knowing speaks volumes. 

He snarls playfully, pretending to bite the door frame. “Hurryyyy before I end up drooling on you in your sleep.” He winks, heading back to your bedroom. 

Wash your face, wash away the ugly thoughts invading your mind, wash away the worry.

Because you shouldn’t be worried, not about him. He doesn’t deserve your worry. As you clutch the necklace between your digits one more time, you have to ask yourself..

Is it guilt? Guilt because you left him, kissing him light as a feather before tiptoeing away, praying he won’t wake soon.

Is it resentment? Resenting yourself for feeling this way, resenting him for making you feel this wake. Enraged whenever you really think about it, the memories you should have never created together. This stupid necklace you never wear, that you can’t force yourself to get rid of.

Or is it really just pain? Because he never came after you, never showed up. Every glance over your shoulder filled you with disappointment. He stopped chasing you.. he really got tired of chasing you..

The reflection staring back at you trembles, blinking away the warmth collecting at your eyes. Guilt, pain, anger, and worst of all, love.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“I’m just getting in right now.”

Heeseung’s raspy tone radiates through your phone’s speaker wishing you a fast and relaxing shift. It’s not ideal to work the later hours but this opportunity to fill a position at one of the most prestigious luxury hotel chains in Europe has been a more than lucky honor to hold; knowing how the name would automatically push your resume to the top of future applicants gunning to snag the same job.

“Try not to stay up for me, okay?” You smile, pausing at the front entrance before heading inside.

“I’ll try, but you know how hard it is for me to fall asleep without you here.” He says in a tired drawl, surely wiped out after working. “Need to know that my baby made it home safe.”

“I will,” you assure, ending with your goodbyes and added ‘love you’s. Adjusting your top before pocketing your phone to head inside, you proudly strut in. Head held high, shoulders back, and designer purse tightly tucked under your arm as you make your way to the back room to clock-in.

“Ah good, you’re here.” Your manager appears, seemingly frazzled.

“Where do you need me today?” You’re fast to ask, immediately locking up your coat and belongings to get ready for your tasks.

“The empire suite.” He informs you, taking on a stern tone. “Have a very very important guest occupying the room, and just had a huge delivery brought in to be taken to their suite.” He nods to follow him, leading you to a trolley stacked from top to bottom with shoppings bags of all sizes.

Hermès, Chanel, Dior, Saint Laurent, Versace, Burberry, Prada. Any high-end designer brand you can think of sat there neatly organized into a pile before your eyes.

“A real high roller..” 

“The highest.” Your manager adds, handing you a key. “Do be sure to set everything up in their room in a neat manner. I’m trusting you to do a great job, and don’t touch anything.”

“You can count on me.” You affirm, taking a deep breath before grabbing onto the cart full of what you can only begin to calculate as thousands upon thousands of dollars.

“Yes well,” he follows, helping you onto the employee only elevator. “Be sure to give it your American touch. Our guest is one of your kind.” He finishes snidely, hiding a look of disgust with a forced fake smile as the elevator doors come to close and you’re left alone. Trapped against the wall in the enclosed space with the cart taking up most of the area surrounding you, you’re happy to hear the ding announcing your arrival to the empire suite.

The suite takes up this entire floor, has the best view in all of Paris, and since working here you’d only gotten the chance to see it once when you first started and had the new staff tour to learn the ins and outs of the hotel.

The fee for a night in one of France's nicest suites was enough to have your palms dampen up, dragging them down your hips as you reach the double-wide doors. The guests wouldn’t be inside, right? Your manager hadn’t mentioned that they’d be occupying the space at this moment.

Quietly knocking a few times you wait, nervously pressing your ear to one of the doors. “Hel—“ covering your mouth, you clear your throat and stand straight.

No. Calling out a ‘hello?’ Would not sit well with some snobby elite, would it.

Choosing to assume the room is currently empty you swipe the key and slowly push the door open. Tiptoeing your way inside to what looks like an untouched suite. From where you stand by the entrance everything looks as pristine and crystal sparkling clean as you remember, as if no guest had ever been able to taint the space with their existence. 

Waiting for another minute to go by, you begin to pull the cart in, making your way to the master room to begin setting up a display on a large empty table near the entrance. This would be most convenient for guests traveling,  near their luggage to store their new purchases away. 

Starting with the larger bags you can’t help but sigh to yourself in this giant empty suite. What a dream it would be to live this way. So spoiled and damn near gluttonous with your money, rich enough to wipe your ass with a Hermès scarf.

“Forever the Nomi Malone..” you say under your breath, setting down one of the Versace bags.

“It’s Versayce.” You snort, rolling your eyes. Being insanely wealthy is overrated anyway..

Who needs all of this really, it’s tacky in a sense. That’s why you’d rather focus on solid colors over brand names and prints. A minimal timeless type of fashion, where else to best study that other than Paris?

Even so, there’s no denying how exciting it is to have your own Chanel purse in your clutches, digging your fingertips against the leather just to listen to the sound when you retract. Everything about Paris has really been such a dream. The food, the scenery, the language, the fashion, the love..

How could Heeseung ever want to leave any of this? Isn’t it love and romance that makes home where the heart is? Of course these ugly thoughts hadn’t left your mind since the conversation you had the other night, itching to bring it up again but fearing to hear the truth.

He doesn’t actually think you’ll move back, right? He had to know that this is your life now, this is what makes you feel complete and happy..

And over something as minuscule as attending concerts. Pft, you can stream anything on the internet these days, and no concert could ever compare to the magic of the Paris opera house.. 

You’ll have to get real at some point, he could have just been talking nonsense.. nothing serious. Yeah. It’s nothing to worry about, he already uprooted his life to be with you. This is what he wants too, you. He wants you.

Nodding to yourself you place the last bag at the front, taking a few steps back to admire your set up. Ah, yes, quite the American touch.

Shaking your head you turn on your heel to get one more look around the room. It’s really as if no one’s slept in here once. Not a wrinkle on the king sized bed, not one single spot or stain on the floor, the furniture all in mint condition. It really all screams elitism, royalty even. Making you all the more curious as to who could be staying here right now, peaking around in hopes of finding some type of clue. It’d be too much to open the closet for a look. Don’t touch anything.. 

Resisting your curious fingers, you turn toward the ceiling to floor window to take in the view one more time. The view alone could really convince you to pay the large sum for a one night stay. Who could sleep with a sight like this? The entire vicinity of Paris illuminated before your eyes where you stand peacefully watching the hustle and bustle of night life. Bars and restaurants that stay open late into the night, bike riders rushing through the streets on their way somewhere that seems urgent to get to, street vendors and tourists haggling amidst the daily routines of Parisians just trying to get by.

It’s something really, the city life. Stress, fast-pace, and yet an attitude of relaxed nature surrounding the Eiffel Tower. 

“Beautiful..” you whisper, lightly pressing your fingertips against the glass. Quality glass that keeps the heat and cold out enough to stand as close to it as possible without shivering, reminding you of how much detail went into creating this experience for only the most superior of guests.

“As beautiful as I remember.”

It’s the vibrato that races down your spine from the lips grazing your nape that has you jumping out of your skin. Palms flattened against the window as you let out a frightened shriek and your eyes go wide.

That voice. That voice that can only be heard in your darkest of dreams. The same one that keeps you up at night scrolling through your phone for hours attempting to distract yourself from your relentless thoughts. 

It can’t be. 

It can’t be him.

“More beautiful,” he whispers, grasping your waist tightly. “How can you not be after all this time. Thought that you could run away from me so easily, did you?”

The only way to describe your chest is hollow, empty, dried up. Gasping for air as your hands drag down the glass and he presses your back flush to his chest, chin hooked over your shoulder. “You really think I’d let you get away so easily? After everything you put me through.”

There’s no way that it’s him.

“You really painted me out to be the villain in this story, didn’t you?” He hums, mouth moving along the bare side of your throat. “He managed to get in that head of yours better than I could, and yet I am somehow the bad guy.”

Squeezing his hands around you tighter only traps your air flow even more, choking on your spit with your eyes lowered to the floor. Too afraid to look up and see the reflection you refuse to believe could be staring back at you through the window glass.

“You have nothing to say for yourself? Nothing after a year?”

Help? Would that be a proper response right now. Half expecting the tip of a gun or knife to meet your spine if you dare to speak, you can’t contain the choked out sob that emits as your lips part open.

“Ah, you must be thrilled to see me.” He mocks, pulling you away from the window. “Can’t even find the words to express yourself.”

Manhandling you onto the bed, he forces your weight down to sit, unable to not look at him as he grips your jaw and forces your eyes up.

Sunghoon.

It’s really him. A little aged, jawline sharper than ever, shoulders broader in size.. he looks as breathtaking as ever, even with a tight scowl wrinkling the skin between his eyebrows.

“As much as I love to watch you cry,” he snickers, gently turning your face side to side to inspect how much you’ve changed. “No time for sappy moments now. That’s not why I’m here.” 

It’s only then that you notice the rings adorning his slim fingers, stepping back to stand tall above you, he folds his hands over his stomach, appearing more menacing than you remember. A cold stare blaring down on you hard enough to freeze you in place.

“Speak now darling.” He smirks, pacing backward toward the table you set up full of items. “You wish to deprive me of your voice still? You know how long the flight here is, especially without your warm cunt to entertain me.”

“But, how?” You stammer, wiping your cheeks clean of the few tears that managed to escape amidst your shock. “How did you—“

Turning sharply, he sits against the table, toying with a small bag. “Don’t ask me stupid questions.” He grits, unraveling a small box wrapped up in ribbons. “You know that I always knew where you were.” 

Pushing off, he opens up the box, showing off fancy chocolates organized inside before popping one inside of his mouth. “The proper question is why now? Why after all of this time.” Beginning to pace before you, he nods, shoving another chocolate in his mouth. 

“It was no easy task.” Sunghoon hums, waving a hand mid-air as he starts to explain. Intense glare unwavering from where you sit. “To stay away for so long, to allow my brother to live so peacefully. To resist the incessant desires pounding through my head each and every day to seek my revenge.”

Slowly scanning you from head to toe he nods, throwing the now empty box of sweets aside. Reaching inside of his pockets he slowly draws free gloves, black velvety gloves that he drags onto his finger ominously. The tightness in his jaw sends shivers up your spine, gulping as he snaps the second glove on.

“I hated you, despised your being, loathed your existence.” He spits, teeth gritted. “I cared so deeply for months and months, killed myself at the gym trying to erase you. I tried to sweat you out, scrub you off of my skin, delete your memory. But you’re everywhere, my shower, my bedroom, even at fucking school I had to ignore the ghost of you.”

The scowl wrinkling his smooth face deepens, nostrils flaring as he stops to glare down at you. “You.. you tried my patience.”

Make your choice. 

A small gasp escapes, it’s as if you’ve reached the end. Your own Phantom whisking you away, threatening you one last time to choose wisely, to choose wrongly.

“It’s unbecoming for me to fall in love.” He scoffs, waving toward your face. “And I had to ask myself if that’s what I feel, because it’s so foreign to me. I had to wonder why you’d even indulge me only to end up running off with him. Perhaps you were the villain here all along.

“Sunghoon..” you whisper shakily, struggling to breathe.

“The hardest part, all of this time..” he smooths three gloved fingers across your jaw, cupping your chin. “Staying away from you.. no contact, not a word. I knew it’d be worth it. All of this would be worth it, the bargaining and negotiating with my father. Counting down the days, marking off my calendar, ignoring the sound of your voice whenever your mother would put you on speaker. I knew that one day soon we’d be together again.”

He sighs, thumb dipping against the middle of your chin. “What a shame that after everything you’ve put me through I still can’t stop myself from thinking of how beautiful you look. How he had a year of this, of you belonging to him. Of spreading your thighs open, of kissing your lips whenever he wants”

“What—what do you want?”

Sunghoon’s teeth grind, reaching for his pocket again, his hold on your face remaining light enough to break free if you wish. It doesn’t help calm your nerves, watchfully following his slow movements before searching for your nearest escape.

“Please, d-don’t hurt me.. please!” You blurt, lips trembling.

His eyes widen, sharp gaze forming to one of offense and shock. “Hurt you?” He says in a raised tone, causing you to cower into yourself. “Hurt you? You dare to ask me to not hurt you? Is that why you think I’m here?”

Yes? You peer up anxiously, arms wrapping around your waist. “I’ll do whatever you want, just please..”

Clicking his tongue, he takes a step back and sinks down to look up at you, lifting one hand up to cup your face and stroke fresh tears away. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He informs, frowning. “Besides, I could never hurt you the way that you’ve hurt me. No. I could never, unfortunately.”

Dropping his hand, he looks away, taking deep breaths as his tongue drags across the backs of his teeth. “The way you played me like a damn fool.. I was impressed, really.” Looking back at your surprised expression, he cocks a dark eyebrow. “I told you, we’re more alike than you may want to accept. What you did to me—I was furious. That flight back home, I really wanted to ruin your life. Even looked up flights to Germany, but I decided against it.”

He laughs breathily, head dropping back, blinking away hot moisture that hits the backs of his eyes. “I went home and I thought about it. I thought about everything, you and me. Why I was so fucking hung up. I thought about you and him…” he says quietly, neck cracking to one side. “Ate away at me for weeks, I couldn’t move on. I know you felt what I felt..” 

Shifting onto one knee, his gaze finds yours, taking one of your hands in his. “And after a few months of hating you, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I know you felt what I felt, call me crazy, call me the worst person you’ve ever met. A fucking nightmare you can’t outrun.” He pulls your hand closer, lips grazing your knuckles. “But I’d never deny my heart that screams your name the way you tune out your own. Maybe I am crazy.” 

He looks at you, stone cold, every emotion passing across his gaze. “Or maybe you made me crazy.”

Fear shifts to confusion the longer you maintain eye contact, tempted to pull your hand away as he reaches for his pocket once again. “I never hated you, even after what you did to me. Drove me insane really, how I couldn’t stop thinking about you.. couldn’t get over you.”

Clearing his throat, he straightens out, gingerly holding your hand. “I came here with one mission, and I have no intention to fail. I’m not leaving without you. Not again, no more.

“What? What do you—“

“I want you, I want us.” Sunghoon affirms, unfolding his fist to reveal a small leather box, snapping it open leaving you breathless. “And I won’t allow you to make this mistake again.”

The diamond ring shines all around, glittery light reflecting off against the glove covering his palm, using his thumb and index finger to take it out. “I’m here because you belong with me, we both know it.”

“I don’t—“

“You belong with me.” He cuts you off, throat bobbing to evaporate the itch rising. “In my arms, by my side, hand held in mine. I want to wake up by your side, want you to be the last smile I see before I shut my eyes for the night. I want to smell you all around me, to find your lost hairs stuck to my clothes, to be greeted by your shoes near the front door. I want to hear your complaints, I want to eradicate every sad pout that forms on your lips. I want and want and want, and I won’t stop. I won’t give up on what my heart believes is real.”

A moment of vulnerability flashes across his gaze, eyebrows furrowing together, lifting the ring to glide onto your finger. “Marry me.”

Biting back a smile, one single tear escapes, slowly sliding down his unblemished pale skin. The stain of residue elicits a tightness in your chest, finally pulling your hand away from his and clutching your wrist.

“Please,” he swallows, mouth gone dry. “Say yes.” 

Standing back up, he grabs your waist to get up, rubbing up and down your sides before leaning in to whisper along your lips. “Marry me.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

NEXT—> Epilogue(coming soon)

taglist 1. @wvnkoi @yjwluvs @fictional-waste @heedeungieluvbot @moonmoongi @moonlighthoon @ddazed-lhs @en-gine @deobitifull @aeminju @eladandan @dneltrise @downbadreading @iweirdthingsblog @beomgyusonlywife @mevalemadrws @sunghoonsbaebae @iloafeyoo @axmdocs @seuomo @parkhonnie @hoonspot @aphrodijin @donghyckl @sxftiell @jinlarities @nshmrarki @idkcallmenevy @wonniestars @mimimovv @valiantcyclevoid @misodiary @hafuunkjw@unlikelysublimekryptonite @lmnhead

till forever falls apart 𑁍ࠬܓ jake sim

pairing: widower!jake x fem!reader

genre: LOTS of angst like a lot, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort/no comfort, some fluff here and there, coming of age, bittersweet ending.

word count: 8k words (or more..)

synopsis: jake came unto your life when you needed it the most. you didn’t expect it but he did and it all did happen on that one specific bench behind the beach you both grew up on, that one summer night. jake just had no idea you would slip through his fingers the way you did. and not that fast either.

warnings: character death, grief & loss, jake is a widower and has a daughter, unknown illness, mature language & cursing, low self worth, depression, mental break downs, fighting, marriage, mentions of seizures, hospitality, medication, just a lot of sad shit i’m so sorry in advanced.

a/n: here it is. mind you i wrote this with a heavy heart and a lot of thoughts in mind ( ; ω ; ) but either way i hope you all like this as much as i liked writing it. this is not proofread by the way, i apologize.

Jake’s feet were practically dragging. Everyone would probably have noticed that but in that moment, his biggest wish would probably be to erase everyone’s existence. He’s been living in his own shadow for felt like years. The only one he’s been vividly making eye contact with was his daughter and the florist he’s been going to for the past few months. Yet it felt for much longer. After all he was counting the days. With a heavy heart that was once filled to the brim with happiness and all the things he’s ever wanted.

The florist, a lady in her late fifties, always welcomed Jake with open arms and it was gestures like that, that made him feel smaller than ever. He wanted to return it, he really did but all he could do, was request the bouquet of flower he was in search for, with an even heavier heart. And if the words weren’t enough, he would point to that one specific section where they were kept. It usually didn’t take long since he memorized it.

Your favorite ones.

Peonies.

His mom called him before he left to buy those flowers. He was surprised with how different she sounded compared to him, or maybe it was because he was starting to forget how everyone sounded, especially those the closest to him. After all he was completely wrapped up in his own arms that felt far too empty and cold to the touch that he couldn’t help but let it happen. With his phone pressed to his ear, he let his mom do the talking while he was busy staring at nothing. More like the place where you used to sleep beside him and him basking in the comfort of your soft snores. You felt so close, so warm. You provided the warm that was missing and now he had to bask unto nothing but coldness. A lit up candle couldn’t even mend the wounds together. He had no idea how long he stayed on the phone with his mom for but at some point he could hear her sniffle and being in the state he was, he couldn’t ask her what was wrong. He was barely doing better himself.

And the call ended with him saying nothing and her saying it wasn’t his fault. The exact same thing she said the last time he saw her those many months ago.

He was debating whether to go check in on his daughter, knowing she would question the state he was. It wad the witty and her ability to be attentive and Jake knew she got that from you. He saw you right through her.

These were one of the days where he was far too deep unto the dark corners of his mindset where he didn’t bother with himself and how hard he was on himself. Jake almost breathed a sigh in relief when he saw his daughter still passed out in her bed, white sheets pulled up to her chin and tightly wrapped around her, the cloud lamp that you gifted to her on her fourth birthday, perfectly dimmed and casting a mellow glow over the roundness of her cheeks. Down on the floor, was Layla sleeping, with her resting on her front paws. The dog he got when he was ten, the one you raised with him.

This was one of the moments where Jake allowed himself to smile, a small smile without feeling bad for doing so.

Jake shook his head when he heard a voice briefly pull him out of his thoughts. His visions cleared and he saw the florist give him a sympathetic smile, probably sensing something, the grey hair framing her face in a way that matched her soft yet gentle features.

“Are you okay, young man?”

Jake was a bit taken aback but settled for a nod before eyeing the bouquet that the lady has managed to wrap up with obvious care.

It was like she saw right through him.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone.” She sadly smiled.

“These flowers,” She gestured to the Peonies, “They are for someone.. someone special, aren’t they?”

Gulping, Jake averted his eyes but still nodded.

“She was my everything,” He slowly forced out and he saw the lady perk up, “My childhood sweetheart, my best friend, my wife. And the mother to our daughter.”

“She was also basically everything I wasn’t yet she still made sure to remind me that she would love me no matter what. Her grip on my hand was tight until it wasn’t but even so, I knew she wouldn’t let go no matter what,” Jake swallowed back his urge to cry, but talking about her tugged at the strings holding him together. And he felt like the lady sensed that before she settled a old wrinkly hand on his shoulder.

The tears were already rolling down by then. Tears he’s been holding in all those months ever since.

“She sounded lovely,” Patting his shoulder, she continued, “I know she would’ve been proud of you especially for still being here, somewhere on the ground where she can look at you from afar,”

“I miss her, ma’am.” Looking up with bloodshot eyes, the lady offered another sympathetic smile, before handling him a tissue.

“I know, child.” She nodded, “I’m not saying you will overcome this grief soon or frankly ever. But you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. When you think about her, please do not always think about the negatives that comes along with it, think about the fact that out of everyone, you were the one she chose. Think about how she chose to love you even with all your flaws and how none of those things would ever change the way she saw you.”

Jake remembered the day. Clear and bright under the moonlight. He was eleven, fairly tall for his height with black strands that always fell over his eyes with how the wind always loved to mess with it. Everyone said that he had that soft look yet gentle demeanor look from his mom, he’s heard it so much to the point where he started believing them. After all his mom was a phenomenal woman.

Ever since dad walked out on both of them, mom has tried her hardest to raise him by herself despite her being young still. She was still in her youth and it was a sad sight to not see her do all the things people her age did. Travel the world, figure out themselves and planning their future without anyone standing in their way of doing so. Jake’s biggest fear was being in her way specifically, being a burden but the warmth from her embrace managed to tell him everything he needed to know. And so he tried his best to help her despite not knowing half of the things he did but he didn’t want his mom to cry anymore. He didn’t want her to downgrade herself and blame herself for things that were out of her control. He wanted her to go to bed with a gentle mindset and now all of the things that used to eat her up.

His mom went to sleep early that night and Jake promised himself that he would prep himself his own dinner and cut up some fruit for his mom since he knew she loved those, and then take out the trash.

Opening the gates, he dragged the plastic bag behind him before dumping it in the big green trash container. The summer nights were getting warmer and times like this reminded Jake off how much he loved it. Giving a toothy grin, he whipped his two hands on the front of his shorts before turning back to head inside, but not before casting a look over his shoulder.

There he saw someone. A few feet away from him.

At first, Jake had no idea what they were doing before walking closer. They were just. Sitting on the bench, in front of the beach. How odd.

“If you’re gonna stare, can you at least be less.. obvious with it?” The person asked, almost nonchalantly.

It was a girl.

Jake didn’t respond, fear of embarrassing himself further so he settled for walking closer to her before taking a seat beside her. So this was what she was doing, just looking at the waves. This late at night?

The young boy scratched behind his head with a small chuckle, “Sorry.. I didn’t think you would notice me,”

She casted him a side eye look before rolling her eyes.

“You’re not exactly quiet.”

And then she turned to stare back at the beach’s many waves. The stars glimmering in reflection with the water. It was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that.

He never bothered looking at where she was looking. But instead he decided to take her in. She was dressed in a white nightgown with a scruff at the end and at the ends of the sleeves, her hair wasn’t tied up or anything but fell behind her shoulders due to the wind, pointy nose, eyelashes casting a dim shadow on her the top of her cheeks which were a bit flushed due to the not too chilly breeze.

Jake might’ve been young but he wasn’t young enough to not know was beauty was when he saw it. And this might have been the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. She might’ve been as beautiful as his mom.

“You really have a staring problem,” She told him, amusement evident in her voice.

“What!” Jake shook his head before scooting away from her, “What is that even supposed to mean!”

“Hmmm…” The still unknown girl tapped her chin lightly.

“It means you stare too much. My mom says that stuff will have you go blind.”

So this was how she wanted to play.

“Well, she’s wrong!”

He knew he hit a sensitive spot when the girl before him gaped lightly at what he said before huffing. He felt the panic dwell in and he was about to apologize before he heard her burst unto a fit of laughter.

“You should have seen the look on your face!”

Jake knew that day, that her laughter, that sound was his favorite melody of all time.

⋆

If anyone asked what you thought of Jake, the first thing that immediately came to your mind was — an oddball.

It didn’t add more to it when you both lived in the same neighborhood. Only two houses away from each other. To add more to it, your mom and his mom knew each other since they used to go to the same highschool together. They both suffered from the loss of their husbands, with yours dying before you were even born, which meant you had no idea who he was. So you lived off your mom’s words about him, the picture frames around the house and the photobooks your mom kept in a small box in the basement.

It was like your moms’ relationship drew you closer to Jake and now that you took a closer look at him, he wasn’t so bad and he wasn’t as irritating as the other boys in your class. The ones who said girls had cooties and girl disease. In fact, you took a hold of how Jake wanted or more so, looked forward to spending time with you any chance he got. He also came by a lot especially after school asking for you. You were pretty sure your mom held some kind of favoritism towards him because she never wasted a breath when it came to the boy with the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen. And before you knew it, you warmed up to him. It didn’t take long but it wasn’t fast either. You were a girl with a lot of things on your mind and frankly, you were just perfectly fine in your own world and peace. But Jake managed to add something to that. You had no idea what or how, but he did.

“Y/N look!”

You looked up from how absentmindedly you were coloring in a butterfly, when you saw Jake running towards you..

With a dog? On a leash?

You sat up with a slight gasp at the sight out of the creature and before you knew it, the dog hopped on you leaving gentle but happy licks all over your face.

“Layla, no!” Jake yelled sternly.

Holding up your arms, you tried blocking them away with a loud laugh before you settled for petting her. Not before pushing her away tho.

“Oh my,” The boy before you sighed in distress, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “I’m so sorry about that Y/N. She’s still a puppy, so she’s full of energy,”

“Don’t apologize,” You shake your head before allowing Layla to take up the space on your lap for some more scritches.

“But I’m kinda mad, why didn’t you tell me you had a dog!”

“Umm…” Jake giggled sheepishly, “I actually just got her a few days ago. I was gonna tell you eventually..”

You gasped in mock offense before picking up a coloring pencil to throw at him.

“Hey!”

“You could’ve still have told me!”

“I was going to!”

Your bickering stopped by Layla jumping off your lap and running around the both of you in circles, indicating she wanted to play and have some energy spent. As if she hasn’t done that already.

“We we’re actually planning on going to the beach,”

Jake saw the way your eyes lit up and he couldn’t help the quick stutter his heart did. What was this feeling?

“Really? Can I join?”

“That was the plan, silly,”

Dusting off your lap from Layla’s jump earlier, you were about to stand up before two hands grabbed yours. Gently, they pulled you up to your feet and then gently let go. Almost as if knowing what was going on, Layla looked back and forth between the two young humans in front of her, before she barked to gather their attention.

“Oh! Uh, she’s getting impatient, we should go,” Jake quickly mumbled out before picking up his dog’s leash off the where he dropped it in the grass.

“Wait!” You looked back at your house before looking back at your friend.

And by then, Jake already knew what was stirring up your hesitation. He smiled at you reassuringly.

“I already told your mom. She said dinner will be done by the time you’re home.”

You could finally let out the breath you’ve been holding.

“Plus your mom loves me,” Jake quipped teasingly.

The young boy laughed at your eye roll and before you both knew it, you were both running, along with Layla down to the beach, with the dog before the both of you barking profusely with a hint of excitement. The whole afternoon was just you and Jake by each other’s side, with his dog running back and forth in the water. She even shook all of her water from her fur at both of you at some point to the point where you both were on the sand rolling around, both of your laughters mixing together that mingled in the sky above off you. It added more to the memories and you both knew you would be thinking about that day till the day you both grew old and wrinkly.

You knew that day, that you wouldn’t wanna spend days like these with anybody but with Jake.

⋆

Years went by, things blossomed and so did your bond with Jake.

It went from meeting him to that one random night on the beach, to you finding out you lived just barely away from each other, to you starting classes together properly after your mom’s job paid her enough for that to happened. You remember the sheer happiness when she told you that and how much that meant to younger you. You weren’t isolated by any means, in fact, your mom encouraged you to check the world for yourself. But you would rather have things done at your pace, so that’s what you did. Luckily she understood and you were beyond thankful.

You also noticed changes about Jake. At some point you and him were the same height, but ever since highschool hit, he’s grown like a head, almost two heads taller than you. He’s grown his fringes out, even at some point dyed it through the school years to the point where you had no idea how many times he did it. You remember one time dyeing it for him tho and that shit was a complete disaster and you wouldn’t have blamed him if he wanted to bald that way. You were still attached to the hip pretty much.

But something that has been coming back to biting you, was that you had no idea where you and Jake’s relationship were interlinked at. You were both seniors in highschool now and things were rocky. God forbid your younger self thought that growing older would result in you being able to talk about your feelings and emotions better, but no. You realized that wasn’t the case. There was definitely something holding you back. You just didn’t wanna come to terms with what it was. Running a hand through your head, you plopped down your bed, arms and legs spread out.

“Y/N?” You suddenly heard someone knock on your door before a head peeked in.

“Did you remember to take your medication?” She asked before stepping foot unto your room.

“Mom.. we already talked about this,”

“You can’t just keep pushing me away,” She insisted

You huffed before sitting, “Can’t we talk about this later please? I have to study for an upcoming exam. I promise I’ll take them later,”

“Y/N—“

“—Mom please..” You looked away from her, voice wavering, “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

You heard her sigh, before footsteps and the sound of your door being closed.

Reaching out for your phone on your bedside, your first instinct was to text Jake. But you knew the sound of his voice was exactly what you needed right now. More than anything. Hovering your thumb over his Caller ID, you slowly started debating if this really was a good idea. Now that you think about it, you and Jake haven’t really talked much due to busy schedules, and you’ve also noticed him confiding comfort in a group of friends you’ve never talked to before, while you had a group of friends of your own.

You missed him. And it was eating you up from the inside.

“Fuck it,” You whispered before dialing his number.

The ringing was not a fit match for how quick your heart was beating, it was practically beating out of your chest and you didn’t like it. Not one bit. But you couldn’t deny in how much need you were of his voice. It was almost embarrassing.

He still had no idea.

“Y/N?”

You smiled. After all this time, his voice was still your favorite tune.

“Hi Jake..”

“Y/N? Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Why do you always assume that something’s wrong?” You giggled and even tho you couldn’t see his face, you knew his face was definitely scrunched up in his one infamous frowns.

“Well, I’m sorry for caring I guess,”

“No you’re not,”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

The same old Jake.

“I miss you, y’know?” He finally spoke up, “I feel like I barely see you anymore.”

“I’m still here, Jake. Life has just.. been busy you know—“

“—Y/N, no,”

You heard some shuffling on the other side of the line, before a dejected sigh.

“It’s because I barely see you anymore. Even your friends are worried about you. You’re still at school, I know you are because I know you wouldn’t miss any of your classes no matter how busy or tired you are but you always disappear so quickly after..”

“Like is there something you aren’t telling me?”

You wanted to tell him.

You wanted to tell him so badly but you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the look on his face when you did. He would be crushed and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for that.

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t they be?”

“Y/N—“

“No y’know what? I actually called you because I needed you and now you throw this on me—You and my mom are exactly the same. You both say the same shit and it’s pissing me off,” Not wasting a second thought, you hung up before throwing your phone on your bed, silent tears rolling down your face.

You went to sit on the bench by the beach the same day, after you heard your mom went to bed. Pulling up your knees closer to yourself, you were silently beating yourself up for not wearing something warmer. Though, you were eyeing your jacket, more or so Jake’s jacket that was hanging around your chair but decided not to take it at last minute.

Wrapping your arms around your knees, you took a look up at the night sky. The moon was seeking it’s place behind some dark clouds, the stars were doing their own things, the wind was getting colder. It was as if everything was going by slower? Or faster? You were not sure anymore but you knew it’s been an push and pull trick ever since that day.

Would it be too early to give up now?

“I knew I would find you here.”

“You can’t keep running away from us, from me, Y/N. I won’t let that happen,”

You turned your head, tears slowly starting to brim your eyes again. You didn’t want him to see you this way. Then there is a sudden pressure on your shoulders and by now you knew Jake has wrapped your upper body up in his jacket, with him now in his white sweatshirt and black plaid pajamas pants. He wasn’t expecting any response from you, in fact, he was just happy to be in your presence and not you running away nor pushing him away.

“I won’t force you to say anything,” He slowly sits down, the space beside you always available for him. There hasn’t been a day where it hasn’t been.

“But.. I hope you know you can talk—“

“I don’t have a lot of time, Jake,”

The first pen drop.

When you didn’t receive any response, you turned your head and hoped for the worst. Jake was still staring forward, towards the waves and how more far away they suddenly sounded.

“I only have two years left.”

That made him turn his head to look at you. The look in his eyes made your heart drop. In all these many years you’ve known Jake, you have never seen him look like this, so empty, so hollow of thoughts, so broken and if you weren’t such a mess yourself, you would have tried to pick up pieces back together. But what was it worth if you couldn’t even pick up your own? Staying alive at this point felt like a chore, a walk even down to the beach sometimes took all the air out of your lungs if you didn’t take your medications.

You managed to catch the tear you saw roll down his cheek with the soft pad of your thump. He gripped your wrist in his hand when he felt it about to retreat and held it up to his cheek, fearing you would disappear faster if he didn’t. Your warmth was all he needed now. Jake hated asking for too much but he wanted to be selfish for once, right now.

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head, feeling the tears roll again, “I should’ve told you. But this was what I was fearing for. Seeing your reaction, seeing the look on your face especially after—“

Feeling a warm gentle hand cupping your cheek, you felt your words get caught in your throat when you took in the way he looked at you now. There was still sadness lingering but you really couldn’t put a finger on what the rest was. But that didn’t really occur your mind. You just needed him to say something.

“Jake, please say something..” You begged, voice cracking, “Yell at me, scream at me, anything!”

You failed to see the way he moved closer.

“Especially for the way I’ve been treating you. That’s the least I deserve,” Pushing at his chest, you couldn’t help but let more tears roll, the place on your lap a sea of your own sorrows by that point

“Why are you looking at me like that, Jake please—“

Your hands faltered their pushing on his chest when you felt something soft yet wet on your lips. Closing your eyes which were still filled with tears, you pushed yourself closer and basked in the gentle kiss that belonged to him.

It was always him.

You knew it by now, you knew it ever since your first encounter on that one night at the beach, at the exact same place where you were at now.

⋆

A lot has changed, with how low your energy has gotten, you couldn’t bring yourself to attend to classes psychically anymore. And by what your personal doctor has said, any stress can trigger the most especially in the state you’re in right now and nobody, especially your mother wouldn’t ever wanna take that risk. So you settled for going to school but at home instead, in the walls of your room. Your routine has gotten progressively more straightforward than what it usually was. You were drained and the eye bags under your would tell anyone a story that you, yourself wouldn’t be able to, lips chapped and peeling. You could barely recognize the sight of yourself anymore.

Jake was walking around with a heavy heart. You were finally his but at what cost? These past weeks has just been him lingering by your side more and more each day to the point he might practically live at your place now. Frankly, he wasn’t doing better himself. He was beating himself up for making everything seem like your fault when nothing was ever your fault to begin it. The world was just too cruel to make space for someone as precious and as delicate as you, the world never deserved you. Jake can’t count the amount of times he’s managed to utter those words to you, while trailing his browns over your features, with your hands interlocked under the sea of stars and crescent moon. And he memorized your reaction to his words each time. You were really the most endearing piece of art to him.

He knew you were trying. You even told him you were so he wouldn’t worry too much, you would fe your ribs construct whenever you saw the way he was trying so hard to keep himself from breaking down when he felt the warmth from your hands, from your body slowly leave your body day by then. All that warmth that you usually provided, was all gone. All the warmth he would confide in whether it was after a stressful day after of classes, work or the insignificant days where he got unto an argument with his mother. He was seeking for your warmth everywhere he went.

Yet Jake held unto the last amount of warmth you had left. That was all he could do.

“Jake,” He heard his mother’s voice speak up before he felt her shake his shoulders, obviously trying to wake him from his afternoon nap.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Groaning he sat up and was met with his mom’s frantic pacing.

He gave her a confused look.

“Mom—?”

“It’s Y/N,” She breathed out, “Her mom just called from the at the hospital..”

“Apparently she had a seizure,”

That was then Jake felt his whole world collapse.

This couldn’t be..

“B-But how.. I.. She was okay when I saw her last day..” He felt his breath getting stuck along with his world. This couldn’t be. His mom didn’t say anything but instead pulled him unto his arms and that was where Jake allowed himself to break down fully. Without any care in the world. You were getting further and further away each day and he had no idea how to cope with it. He was angry, frustrated, why was he letting this happen? Why couldn’t he have done more? For you?

You deserved everything, but this.

⋆

“I will miss seeing the stars,”

Even with a light hoarse lilt to your voice, it still sounded soft and gentle in Jake’s ears. Like it always has. You were wearing a soft smile when looking at the stars from the hospital window, that never seemed to falter when you turned to look at him.

“I know you will, my love.”

Your smile faltered when you noticed that he was in deep in thoughts. He always we’re but this time it wasn’t out of sheer sadness and distress but more like.. he was bashful?

“Is something bothering you, my Jake?”

He didn’t respond but from the corner of your eyes, you saw him pull out a small black velvet box. You gasped.

“I know we’re still young and all but..” He says carefully, “But you’re probably the only person I’ve ever felt this sure with. This secure with and I honestly couldn’t have asked for someone better,”

Slowly opening the box, there was it. A ring. A silver ring littered with small diamonds on the sides, with the biggest one being shaped in a crystallized star. You looked up and you realized Jake hasn’t looked away from you once, trying his best to read your reaction and body language, making sure he hasn’t been overstepping anything.

“I know you hate asking for much, just like I do but..”

“Jake I..” You shake your head, eyes wide, “It’s beautiful..”

Taking out the ring from the box, he gently took your hand before slipping the ring on before bringing it up to seal it with a kiss to your knuckles.

“You don’t have to say anything.. I know that—“

“My Jake, of course I wanna marry you..”

⋆

Jake woke up startled to the someone knocking on his front door. Automatically he reached beside him but was met with nothing but the cold sheets.

Heaving another deep sigh from his chest, he slipped on slippers before walking downstairs, careful not to wake up his daughter. He was met with Layla who was pressing her snout against the door, curious herself, tail slightly wagging before letting out a small bark at the sight of her owner

“Hey girl,” He cooed with a scratch to the canine’s head, “Be quiet now, wouldn’t wanna wake anyone up would we?”

Honestly, Jake had no idea what he was expecting when opening the door but..

“Mrs. Y/N?”

“Hi son..” She muttered, “I hope you’re doing okay. Look, I-I don’t have much time but this morning I came across this while cleaning up in Y/N’s room and found this,”

The woman gave a careful smile and that was then he noticed a small envelope in her hand.

“I was about to open it but I think it was meant for you,”

Carefully taking the letter, he examined it before turning it around where he noticed something written in messy yet distinguished writing.

‘For him <3’

⋆

‘Dear you,

I don’t know what this letter will be when you receive it but I hope it lands safely in your hands.

Life hasn’t been easy and to be honest, I never expected it to be. You and I both know that. But what I do know is that you’ve made my life easier. I don’t know if that has do with the solace from your words or the stars from your eyes. But in me somewhere, I knew you changed my life for the better. I can’t think of a person who’s made me laugh and smile as much as you have, I think that itself alone is impossible if you ask me.

I hope you aren’t too hard on yourself. And if you are, a reminder that I never wanted you to be and neither does your mother and our daughter. I may not be here when you read this so please think about them when life gets hard and when you can feel yourself shift the blame on yourself for all the things that was never your fault to begin with. I didn’t ask for how my life turned out, neither did you. None of us did. Life just has some dwelling sometimes and at some point, they like to take it out on one of us.

It’s not fair. I know.

But I hope you can look up at the stars and see me.

I will always be here with you.

Your, Y/N L/N.’

taglist: @karinasbaby @nishions @hittoki @superbbananananana @mimizen127 @jjunie-0 @ghostiiess

2024 © fariest, do not copy, modify or post my work to other sites

In Another Life

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Rome, 79 AD

The bustling streets of Rome pulse with life as you make your way through the crowded forum. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat wafts through the air, mingling with the chatter of merchants and citizens going about their daily business. You adjust your stola, the flowing garment feeling unusually constricting today as you hurry towards the Temple of Venus.

“Watch where you’re going!” A gruff voice shouts as you accidentally bump into a burly man carrying an amphora.

“My apologies,” you mutter, quickening your pace. Your heart races, not from the near-collision, but from anticipation. You’re running late for your clandestine meeting with Charles, the young patrician who has captured your heart.

As you approach the temple, you spot him pacing nervously at the base of the steps. His toga gleams white in the afternoon sun and his usually perfectly coiffed hair is slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it anxiously.

“There you are!” Charles exclaims as you draw near. His face breaks into a relieved smile, and he reaches for your hands. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.”

You can’t help but return his smile, your earlier stress melting away. “As if I could stay away,” you tease, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “Though I must say, your choice of meeting place is rather bold. The Temple of Venus? Are you trying to tell me something?”

He laughs, a warm, rich sound that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. “Perhaps I’m simply hoping the goddess will smile upon us,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “After all, we could use all the divine favor we can get.”

Your smile falters slightly at his words, reality creeping back in. “Have you spoken with your father?” You ask, unable to keep the worry from your voice.

Charles’ expression grows serious. “I have,” he says, leading you to a secluded corner of the temple grounds. “He’s ... not pleased, to say the least. He still insists on the marriage to Claudia.”

You feel a pang in your chest at the mention of Charles’ intended bride. “And what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Charles replies firmly. “That my heart belongs to you and I won’t marry another.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Charles,” you whisper, “you know the consequences-”

He cuts you off, cupping your face in his hands. “I don’t care about the consequences. I love you, Y/N. I won’t let my father’s ambitions or society’s expectations keep us apart.”

You lean into his touch, torn between elation and fear. “But your family, your position ... you’d lose everything.”

“Not everything,” Charles insists. “I’d have you. That’s all that matters.”

You’re about to respond when a commotion near the temple entrance catches your attention. Your blood runs cold as you spot Charles’ father, Senator Leclerc, striding towards you, flanked by several burly slaves.

“Charles!” The senator bellows, his face contorted with rage. “Step away from that girl at once!”

Charles instinctively moves to shield you. “Father, please,” he begins, but the senator cuts him off.

“Silence! You shame our family with this ... this dalliance. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

You feel Charles tense beside you. “It’s not a dalliance, Father. I love her.”

The senator’s face grows even redder. “Love? You know nothing of love, boy. You have a duty to your family, to Rome. I won’t let you throw it all away for some common girl.”

“She’s not common,” Charles argues, his voice rising. “She’s extraordinary, and I won’t let you or anyone speak ill of her.”

The tension in the air is palpable as father and son face off. You want to intervene, to de-escalate the situation, but you’re frozen in place, your heart pounding.

Suddenly, one of the senator’s slaves moves forward, reaching for Charles. Without thinking, you step between them. “Don’t touch him!” You cry out.

Everything happens in a blur. The slave’s hand connects with your shoulder, shoving you back. You stumble, your foot catching on the hem of your stola. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself falling, tumbling down the temple steps.

“Y/N!” Charles’ anguished cry is the last thing you hear before pain explodes through your body and the world goes dark.

You drift in and out of consciousness, aware of frantic voices and the sensation of being carried. Charles’ face swims into view, streaked with tears.

“Stay with me, love,” he pleads, his voice cracking. “Please, don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, to reassure him, but no words come. The pain is fading now, replaced by a strange numbness. You manage to lift a hand to Charles’ cheek, wanting to wipe away his tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I love you, Charles. In this life and the next.”

As darkness closes in, your last thought is a desperate hope that someday, somehow, you’ll find each other again.

Genoa, 1348

The acrid smell of smoke and death hangs heavy in the air as Charles makes his way through the narrow, winding streets. His eyes water, both from the stench and the unshed tears he’s been holding back for days. The plague has ravaged the city, leaving behind a trail of devastation and despair.

Charles pulls his cloth mask tighter over his nose and mouth, though he knows it’s likely futile. He’s a physician, one of the few brave — or foolish — enough to still tend to the sick. But today, he’s not seeking out patients. He’s searching for you.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice muffled by the mask. “Y/N, where are you?”

A nearby door creaks open, and a haggard face peers out. “Keep your voice down, fool,” the old woman hisses. “You’ll bring the afflicted running.”

Charles ignores her, pressing on. His heart races with each step, fear and hope warring within him. He hasn’t seen you in days, not since you left to care for your ailing aunt. The memory of your parting plays in his mind, as vivid as if it were happening now.

“I have to go,” you had said, your eyes filled with determination and fear. “She has no one else.”

He had tried to dissuade you. “It’s too dangerous. The plague-”

“I know the risks,” you’d cut him off. “But I can’t abandon her. You’d do the same if it were your family.”

He couldn’t argue with that. It was one of the things he loved most about you — your unwavering compassion, even in the face of danger.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he’d pleaded, pulling you close. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

You’d kissed him then, soft and sweet. “I promise. Nothing could keep me from you, my love. Not even death itself.”

Now, as he rounds another corner, Charles clings to that promise like a lifeline. “Y/N!” He calls again, desperation creeping into his voice.

Suddenly, he spots a familiar figure stumbling down the street. His heart leaps. “Y/N!”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and Charles feels his world tilt on its axis. Your face is pale, your eyes glassy with fever. As he watches in horror, you collapse to the ground.

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, rushing to your side. He gathers you in his arms, his physician’s training warring with his lover’s panic. “Y/N, can you hear me? Open your eyes, love.”

Your eyelids flutter, and you manage a weak smile. “Charles,” you whisper. “You found me.”

“Of course I found you,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll always find you. Now, let’s get you home and take care of you.”

You shake your head slightly. “No, it’s too late. The plague-”

“Don’t say that,” Charles interrupts fiercely. “It’s not too late. I’m a physician, remember? I’ll cure you. I have to.”

Despite your condition, you manage a soft laugh. “My stubborn love. Always fighting the impossible.”

Charles lifts you gently, cradling you against his chest. “Nothing’s impossible when it comes to you,” he insists, starting the journey back to his home. “We’ve overcome so much already. Remember when we first met? You were convinced a lowly apprentice physician could never court a merchant’s daughter.”

You smile at the memory. “And you were determined to prove me wrong.”

“Which I did,” Charles says, a hint of his old cockiness creeping into his voice. “Rather spectacularly, if I recall correctly.”

“Mmm, yes,” you murmur. “That night under the stars, when you recited all those ridiculous poems ...”

Charles chuckles. “They weren’t ridiculous. They were romantic.”

“They were terrible,” you counter weakly. “But your heart was in the right place.”

As they near Charles’ home, your breathing becomes more labored. Fear claws at Charles’ chest, but he forces it down. “Stay with me, love,” he pleads. “We’re almost there.”

Once inside, Charles lays you gently on the bed. He works tirelessly, applying every treatment and remedy he knows. Hours blur together as he fights against the inevitable, refusing to give up hope.

But as night falls, he can no longer deny the truth. The plague is winning and he’s powerless to stop it.

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “It’s time to let go.”

He shakes his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. “No, I can’t. I won’t lose you again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Again?”

Charles pauses, unsure where that thought came from. “I ... I don’t know. It just feels like I’ve lost you before, somehow.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps in another life,” you muse. “But in this one, we found each other. We loved. That’s what matters.”

“It’s not enough,” Charles insists, his voice breaking. “We were supposed to have more time. We were going to get married, have children, grow old together.”

“We’ll have that chance,” you say with surprising conviction. “If not in this life, then in the next. Our souls are bound, Charles. I feel it. This isn’t the end for us.”

Charles wants to believe you, but the grief is overwhelming. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know our love,” you reply, reaching up to touch his face. “It’s stronger than death, stronger than time itself. We’ll find each other again, my love. I promise.”

As your hand falls away, your eyes close for the last time. Charles pulls you close, his body wracked with sobs. “I’ll find you,” he vows through his tears. “In this life or the next, I’ll always find you.”

Days pass in a haze of grief and determination. Charles throws himself into treating the sick with renewed vigor, heedless of the risk to himself. And when the telltale symptoms begin to appear — the fever, the chills, the aching limbs — he faces them without fear.

As he lies in his sickbed, Charles’ thoughts are only of you. “I’m coming, my love,” he whispers to the empty room. “Wait for me.”

His last conscious thought is a fervent hope that somehow, somewhere, you’ll be reunited once more.

Paris, 1789

The streets of Paris echo with the sound of angry voices and marching feet as Charles makes his way through the city’s winding alleys. His heart races, not from the exertion of his hurried pace, but from the fear of what’s to come. The revolution has begun in earnest, and his world is crumbling around him.

“Charles!” Your voice cuts through the chaos, and he turns to see you running towards him, your skirts hiked up to allow for faster movement. “Thank God I found you. We have to go, now!”

He grabs your hand, pulling you into a shadowy doorway. “Y/N, what are you doing here? It’s not safe!”

You cup his face in your hands, your eyes blazing with determination. “I couldn’t leave without you. The mob is heading for your family’s estate. We need to get you out of the city.”

Charles feels a rush of love for you, even as fear grips his heart. You, a baker’s daughter, risking everything to save him. “And what of you? Your family?”

“They’re safe,” you assure him. “Papa closed the bakery and they’ve gone to stay with relatives in the countryside. But you ... Charles, they’ll kill you if they find you.”

He knows you’re right. His family name, once a source of pride, is now a death sentence. “Where can we go?” He asks, his mind racing.

“I have a plan,” you say, tugging him back into the street. “There’s a farmer who owes my father a favor. He’s agreed to hide us until we can secure passage to England.”

As you hurry through the streets, the sounds of the mob grow louder. Charles can’t help but look back, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he’s leaving behind.

“Charles, focus,” you urge, squeezing his hand. “We’re almost there.”

Suddenly, a group of revolutionaries rounds the corner ahead of you. Their eyes lock onto Charles, recognition dawning on their faces.

“Aristocrat!” One of them shouts, pointing an accusing finger. “Seize him!”

“Run!” Charles yells, pulling you in the opposite direction. You flee hand-in-hand, weaving through the narrow streets as shouts and footsteps echo behind you.

“This way,” you pant, yanking him down an alley. “I know a shortcut.”

You lead him through a maze of backstreets, the angry voices growing fainter. Just as Charles begins to hope you’ve lost them, you emerge onto a main road … and straight into the path of another group of revolutionaries.

“Halt!” A burly man with a tricolor sash shouts, leveling a musket at Charles.

Charles pushes you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Please,” he says, raising his hands. “We mean no harm. We’re just trying to leave the city.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “You’re Leclerc’s boy, aren’t you? The one who’s been helping nobles escape?”

Charles feels you stiffen behind him. He’d kept his activities secret, even from you, to keep you safe. But now ...

“Yes,” he admits, straightening his spine. “I’ve been helping innocent people escape persecution. If that’s a crime, then I’m guilty.”

The man’s face twists with rage. “Traitor to the revolution!” He spits. “You’ll pay for your crimes against the people!”

As the man raises his musket, time seems to slow. Charles is acutely aware of your rapid breathing behind him, of the sweat beading on his brow, of the hammering of his heart.

“No!” You cry out, trying to push past Charles. “Please, he’s a good man! He’s helped people, saved lives!”

“Y/N, don’t,” Charles pleads, holding you back. He turns to face you, drinking in the sight of your face, committing every detail to memory. “I love you,” he says softly. “In this life and the next.”

The words trigger a flash of memory — or is it déjà vu? Charles has a sudden feeling that he’s said those words before, in another time, another place.

The moment is shattered by the deafening crack of the musket firing. Charles feels a searing pain in his chest, and then he’s falling, the world tilting sideways.

“Charles!” You anguished scream seems to come from far away. He feels your arms around him, cradling his head in your lap. “No, no, no. Stay with me, my love. Please!”

Charles tries to speak, but only a wet cough comes out. He can taste blood in his mouth. The pain is fading now, replaced by a spreading numbness.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to whisper. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Tears stream down your face as you bend over him. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re a hero, Charles. My hero.”

He wants to tell you how much he loves you, how meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to him. But the darkness is closing in, and he can feel himself slipping away.

As his eyes flutter closed, Charles has a strange sensation of déjà vu. He sees flashes of other lives — ancient Rome, plague-ridden Genoa — where he loved you and lost you. Or did you lose him?

With his last breath, Charles makes a silent vow. Somehow, someway, he’ll find you again. In the next life, you’ll get it right. You have to.

The world fades to black, but Charles isn’t afraid. He knows this isn’t the end. It’s just another beginning.

You hold Charles’ lifeless body, your sobs echoing in the suddenly quiet street. The revolutionaries stand awkwardly, some looking ashamed, others defiant.

“What have you done?” You cry out, your voice raw with grief and anger. “He was a good man! He helped people!”

The man with the musket shifts uncomfortably. “He was an aristocrat,” he mutters, but there’s less conviction in his voice now.

You look up at him, your eyes blazing through your tears. “He was a human being,” you say fiercely. “And you murdered him.”

As the reality of what they’ve done sinks in, the crowd begins to disperse. You’re left alone with Charles, cradling his body in the middle of the street.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “In the next life, my love. I promise we’ll be together again.”

As night falls over Paris, you sit vigil over Charles’ body, your heart broken but your spirit undefeated. Somewhere deep inside, you know this isn’t the end of your story. It’s just another chapter in a love that spans lifetimes.

London, 1942

The steady tick of the clock on the mantle seems to echo through the small London flat as you pace anxiously, your eyes darting to the window every few seconds. The air raid sirens have been silent for days, but the tension in the city remains palpable. It’s been weeks since you’ve heard from Charles, and the knot of worry in your stomach grows tighter with each passing day.

A sharp knock at the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you rush to answer it, hope and fear warring within you. But instead of Charles’ warm smile, you’re met with the solemn face of his fellow RAF pilot, James.

“James,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. “What is it? What’s happened?”

James removes his cap, twisting it in his hands. “May I come in? I’m afraid I have some news about Charles.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis as you step back, allowing James to enter. You lead him to the small sitting room, your movements mechanical, as if you’re watching yourself from a distance.

“Please,” you say, gesturing to a chair. “Sit down and tell me everything.”

James perches on the edge of the armchair, his discomfort palpable. “There’s no easy way to say this. Charles’ plane was shot down over the Channel three days ago. We ... we haven’t found any survivors.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, driving the air from your lungs. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “No, that can’t be right. Charles is too good a pilot. He promised he’d come back to me.”

James leans forward, his eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Charles was one of the best pilots I’ve ever known, but the Jerries caught us by surprise. There was nothing he could do.”

You sink onto the sofa, your legs suddenly unable to support you. “Tell me what happened,” you demand, your voice stronger than you feel. “I need to know everything.”

James nods, taking a deep breath. “We were on a routine patrol over the Channel. Everything seemed quiet, and then suddenly the sky was full of Messerschmitts. They came out of nowhere, diving out of the sun.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair. “Charles ... he was incredible. He managed to take down two of them before they could even react. But there were just too many of them.”

You close your eyes, picturing Charles in the cockpit of his Spitfire, his face set with determination as he faced impossible odds. It’s an image that both comforts and devastates you.

“I saw his plane take a hit,” James continues, his voice rough with emotion. “He was trying to draw their fire away from the rest of us. The last thing I heard over the radio was him saying, ‘Tell Y/N I love her. In this life and the next.’”

A sob escapes you at those words, so achingly familiar. “He’s said that before,” you murmur, more to yourself than to James.

“I’m sorry?” James asks, leaning closer.

You shake your head, unsure how to explain the strange sense of déjà vu. “It’s nothing. Please, go on.”

James nods, though he looks at you curiously. “His plane went down fast after that. We searched for hours, but with the weather and the waves ...” He trails off, leaving the grim implication hanging in the air.

“So there’s still a chance?” You ask, clinging to a shred of hope. “If you didn’t find ... if there’s no body, he could still be out there, right?”

The pity in James’ eyes is almost unbearable. “Y/N, I know it’s hard to accept, but the chances of survival in those conditions ... it would take a miracle.”

You stand abruptly, pacing the small room. “Then I’ll believe in miracles,” you declare fiercely. “Charles is strong, and he’s a survivor. He wouldn’t leave me, not like this.”

James rises, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I understand. Charles spoke of you often, you know. He loved you more than anything in this world.”

“Loves,” you correct him sharply. “He loves me. Present tense.”

James nods, not arguing. “Of course. I’m sorry, I should go. Is there anything you need? Anyone I can call for you?”

You shake your head, suddenly desperate to be alone. “No, thank you. I just ... I need some time.”

As you show James out, he pauses at the door. “Charles was more than just my commanding officer. He was my friend. If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You manage a weak smile. “Thank you, James. That means a lot.”

As the door closes behind him, the flat seems to grow impossibly quiet. You lean against the wall, feeling as though you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

Your eyes fall on a framed photograph of Charles, taken just before he left for his last mission. His smile is radiant, his eyes full of life and love. You pick up the frame, tracing his features with a trembling finger.

“You promised,” you whisper to the image. “You promised you’d come back to me.”

A memory surfaces, unbidden. Charles, laughing as he spun you around in the park on your first date. “You know,” he had said, his eyes twinkling, “I have the strangest feeling I’ve known you forever.”

You had felt it too, that inexplicable sense of familiarity, of coming home. “Maybe we knew each other in a past life,” you had joked.

Charles had grown serious then, cupping your face in his hands. “If that’s true,” he had said softly, “then I’m certain I loved you just as much then as I do now.”

The memory is too much. Your knees buckle, and you sink to the floor, still clutching the photograph to your chest. Sobs wrack your body as the full weight of your loss crashes over you.

“Come back to me,” you plead between gasping breaths. “Please, Charles. Find me again. In this life or the next, just find me.”

As you kneel there, lost in your grief, a strange calm settles over you. Deep in your soul, you feel a certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Charles will find each other again.

You have to believe it. It’s the only thing that will get you through the long, dark nights ahead.

Berlin, 1961

The cold November air bites at Charles’ face as he paces along the western side of the Berlin Wall, his breath forming small clouds in the dim light of dawn. His eyes scan the imposing concrete barrier, searching for any sign of movement on the other side. He checks his watch for the hundredth time, willing the minutes to pass faster.

“Come on, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath. “Where are you?”

As if in answer to his plea, a small pebble arcs over the wall, landing at his feet. Charles’ heart leaps as he bends to retrieve it, unfolding the small piece of paper wrapped around it.

I’m here, the note reads in your familiar handwriting. Same spot. Be careful.

Charles moves quickly to a section of the wall where a drain pipe creates a small blind spot from the watchtowers. He pulls out a compact mirror, angling it to catch a glimpse of the other side.

“Y/N,” he whispers urgently. “Can you hear me?”

“Charles!” Your voice comes back, barely audible. “Thank God. I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“I’ll always come for you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Are you alright? Did anyone follow you?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “I was careful. But Charles, we don’t have much time. They’re planning to move me to Moscow next week. This might be our last chance.”

Charles feels his stomach drop. “Moscow? No, we can’t let that happen. We have to get you out of there tonight.”

“How?” You ask, a note of desperation in your voice. “The security has been tightened since the last escape attempt. There are patrols everywhere.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing. “I have a contact in the American sector. He might be able to help. But Y/N, it’s risky. If we’re caught ...”

“I know,” you interrupt. “But I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be loyal to a system I despise. And I can’t bear to be separated from you any longer.”

His heart swells at your words. “I feel the same way. Okay, listen carefully. Meet me back here at midnight. Wear dark clothes and bring only what you can carry in a small bag. I’ll have everything else ready on this side.”

“Midnight,” you repeat. “I’ll be here. Charles ... I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says softly. “More than you could ever know. Be safe, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.”

As Charles turns to leave, he’s struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He’s had this feeling before when talking to you, as if your souls have known each other across lifetimes. Shaking off the strange thought, he hurries away to set the plan in motion.

The hours crawl by as Charles makes preparations. He meets with his American contact, secures false documents, and plots the safest route to the western sector. As night falls, he returns to the wall, his nerves on edge.

Midnight comes and goes. Charles waits, every muscle tense, straining to hear any sound from the other side. Five minutes pass. Then ten.

“Y/N?” He whispers urgently. “Are you there?”

Silence answers him. Charles feels panic rising in his chest. Something’s wrong.

Suddenly, the night is shattered by the sound of shouting and dogs barking. Floodlights blaze to life on the eastern side of the wall.

“No,” Charles breathes, horror washing over him. “Y/N!”

He presses himself against the wall, desperate to hear something, anything. The chaos on the other side grows louder. Then, cutting through it all, he hears your voice.

“Charles!” You cry out. “Charles, help me!”

Without thinking, Charles begins to climb the wall, heedless of the danger. He has to get to you, has to save you.

“Stop right there!” A gruff voice shouts in German. Charles freezes, realizing he’s been spotted by a guard on the western side.

“Please,” Charles begs in German, “You don’t understand. There’s someone over there who needs help. I have to-”

His words are cut off by the sharp crack of gunfire from the eastern side. Charles’ blood runs cold.

“Y/N!” He screams, no longer caring who hears him. “Y/N, answer me!”

But there’s no response. The night falls eerily quiet, broken only by the sound of hurried orders being given in Russian.

Charles slumps against the wall, his mind refusing to accept what his heart already knows. You’re gone. He was too late.

Hours pass in a blur. Charles remains by the wall, numb with grief and shock. As dawn breaks, he hears someone approaching from the western side.

“Mr. Leclerc?” A voice says softly. It’s his American contact. “I’m so sorry. We ... we heard what happened.”

Charles looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. “Tell me,” he says hoarsely.

The man sighs heavily. “She was caught trying to reach the wall. There was a struggle. The guards ... they didn’t hesitate to use lethal force.”

Each word is like a knife to Charles’ heart. “Did she suffer?” He asks, dreading the answer.

“It was quick,” the man assures him. “If it’s any consolation, our sources say her last words were about you. She said, ‘Tell Charles I’ll find him again. In this life or the next.’”

Charles closes his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Those words ... why do they sound so familiar?

“Mr. Leclerc,” the American says gently, “it’s not safe for you to stay here. We need to get you out of Berlin. There will be questions, investigations.”

But Charles barely hears him. His mind is reeling, flashes of memories — or are they dreams — flooding his consciousness. Ancient Rome, plague-ridden Genoa, revolutionary France, war-torn skies over the English Channel. In each scene, he sees your face, hears your voice promising to find each other again.

“This isn’t the end,” Charles murmurs, more to himself than to the confused American.

“I’m sorry?” The man asks.

Charles stands, a strange calm settling over him. “Nothing,” he says. “You’re right. We should go.”

As they walk away from the wall, Charles makes a silent vow. He will live, he will remember, and he will find you again. Somehow, somewhere, in another life, you will have your chance at happiness.

The Berlin Wall may have separated you in this life, but Charles is certain now that your souls are bound across lifetimes. And no wall, no war, no force on earth can keep you apart forever.

Abu Dhabi, 2025

The roar of engines fills the air as Charles crosses the finish line, clinching his first Formula 1 World Championship. The crowd erupts in cheers, but Charles barely hears them. His eyes scan the barriers, searching for one face among thousands.

As he brings his Ferrari to a stop, he sees you pushing through the throng of celebrating team members. Your eyes meet, and suddenly everything else fades away. Charles leaps from the car, not even bothering to remove his helmet as he runs towards you.

“We did it!” He shouts, sweeping you into his arms and spinning you around. “We actually did it!”

You laugh, tears of joy streaming down your face. “You did it, Charles! I’m so proud of you!”

He sets you down gently, finally removing his helmet. His hair is matted with sweat, his face flushed with exertion and excitement. To you, he’s never looked more handsome.

“No,” Charles says, cupping your face in his hands. “We did this together. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a passionate kiss. The world around you explodes with camera flashes and cheers, but neither of you notice. In this moment, you’re the only two people in the world.

As you finally break apart, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs. “In this life and-”

“And all the others,” you finish, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over you.

Charles pulls back slightly, his brow furrowed. “You feel it too, don’t you?” He asks. “Like we’ve said these words before?”

You nod, a bit dazed. “It’s strange. Sometimes when I look at you, I get flashes of ... I don’t know, other times, other places. But it’s always us, always together.”

A grin spreads across Charles’ face. “Maybe we’re soulmates,” he teases, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

“Charles! Y/N!” A voice calls out. You turn to see Fred Vasseur approaching. “Sorry to interrupt, but Charles has to get weighed.”

Charles nods, then turns back to you. “Wait for me?” He asks.

You smile, giving him a quick kiss. “Always,” you promise.

As Charles is whisked away for obligations, you find yourself lost in thought. The strange feeling of familiarity, of a love that transcends time, has been with you since the day you met Charles. You’ve never mentioned it to him before, afraid he’d think you were crazy.

The podium ceremony is a blur of champagne and cheers. Charles’ radiant smile never wavers as he hoists the trophy, but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd. When it’s finally over, he makes a beeline for you, ignoring the clamoring reporters.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, taking your hand.

You raise an eyebrow. “What about the press conference? The team celebrations?”

Charles shakes his head. “They can wait. Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Hand-in-hand, you sneak away from the track, laughing like teenagers as you dodge team members and journalists. Charles leads you to his car and soon you’re speeding down the winding roads of the Emirati capital.

“Where are we going?” You ask, the wind whipping through your hair.

Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ll see.”

As the sun begins to set, Charles pulls off onto a small dirt road. It leads to a secluded hilltop overlooking the valley below. The view is breathtaking, the entire landscape bathed in the warm glow of twilight.

“Charles,” you breathe, taking in the scene. “It’s beautiful.”

He comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Not as beautiful as you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You turn in his arms, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “What are we doing here, Charles?”

He takes a deep breath, suddenly looking nervous. “Y/N, do you remember the day we met?”

You smile at the memory. “Of course. I was lost in the paddock and you offered to help me find my way.”

“The moment I saw you,” Charles says softly, “it was like ... like coming home. Like I’d been searching for you my whole life without even knowing it.”

Your heart races as he continues. “And ever since then, I’ve had these ... dreams, I guess. Flashes of other lives, other times. But always with you.”

“Charles,” you whisper, hardly daring to believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve had them too. I thought I was going crazy.”

He shakes his head, a look of wonder on his face. “Not crazy. Just ... connected. In a way I can’t fully explain.”

Charles takes your hands in his, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your skin. “I don’t know if it’s past lives or parallel universes or just some cosmic coincidence. But I do know this: in every life, in every version of reality, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of this life, and all the ones that come after, loving you.”

Your breath catches as Charles drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, “will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision as you nod emphatically. “Yes,” you manage to choke out. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Charles’ face breaks into a radiant smile as he slips the ring onto your finger. He stands, pulling you into a kiss that feels like coming home and embarking on a new adventure all at once.

As you break apart, both of you laughing and crying, a sense of rightness settles over you. Whatever strange connection you share, whatever cosmic forces have brought you together time and time again, you know that this — right here, right now — is where you’re meant to be.

“I love you,” you say, looking into Charles’ eyes. “In this life and all the others.”

“And I love you,” he replies, holding you close. “Always and forever.”

The future stretches out before you, full of promise and possibility. And though you don’t know what challenges it might bring, you’re certain of one thing: whatever comes, you’ll face it together.

Just as you always have, and always will.

►DANCING WITH THE DEVIL #003 [Sunghoon.]

Previous Parts ‣ #001 | ‣ #002

Abstract: Juxtaposing the way your town was beginning to get a new lease on life after the authorities finally found the culprit behind your town's recent serial killings, your life was fraying at the edges instead as you still had to continue battling your inner demons on the daily – from nightly terrors to random flashes of visions – the latter of which, for mysterious reasons, seemed to only happen when you are face-to-face with Park Sunghoon, the bane of your existence.  The more distraught you were over it all, the more convinced you were to get to the bottom of it, even if it means wreaking hell with the bane of your existence and waltzing with him in a game of his own making. You knew you were treading dangerous waters in doing so but you figured, if your days are numbered, then you'd rather go down fighting, dragging him down with you. But with the line between hate and love being thin, someone is bound to slip up soon, thereby threatening to ensnare the both of you deeper into the tangled web that Sunghoon had spun for you in the first place. ⌈ Do check out the previous parts here ‣ #001 | ‣ #002 ⌋

Genre: vampire!sunghoon | horror | thriller | fantasy | romance (or is it? 😋) | wc: 26.9k

Warnings: blood; violence; injuries (some are self-inflicted); suggestiveness (some are forced); mentions of crimes (missing persons, murder, serial killings); manipulation; toxicity; trauma.

© 2022 interlunium-opus. All rights reserved. Do not plagiarize, post or translate anywhere.

— i

“That’s a pretty heavy topic for a light read,” Jungwon who was trailing behind you, remarked, eyes fixated on the book you were holding, “that book is about Trauma right? I know you like reading but it’s deadline season so I doubt you’re picking this up for leisure reading. I don’t think it relates to any of your modules either. Is everything alright y/n?”

No, you thought to yourself, nothing is. Juxtaposing the way your town was beginning to get a new lease on life after the authorities finally found the culprit behind the serial killings, your life was fraying at the edges as you continue to battle your inner demons on the daily – from nightly terrors to random flashes of visions – the latter of which, for mysterious reasons, seemed to only happen when you are face-to-face with Park Sunghoon, the bane of your existence.

The more you ruminated about how your life has seemingly turned awry, the more perplexing it all becomes. In fact, if your life was a jigsaw puzzle, it would be the kind where none of the remaining puzzle pieces that have been left fit the gaps, which gives you either a distorted picture if you force it, or an incomplete picture, if you leave it be – none of which is ideal. Not when the gaps were having such a debilitating effect on your life from the dizzy spells, anaemia, visions, to nightly terrors.

Perplexingly, the more you pondered about each gap, the more it can be traced to Park Sunghoon. The most jarring of all in particular was the gaps in your memories of that evening when you last worked with Sunghoon – after which, everything seemed to take a weird turn, though not immediately. It was only in hindsight that you were able to see how the disjointed oddities seem to be cascading: the memory gaps; your sudden deteriorating health; Sunghoon’s sudden shift in behaviour; your nightly terrors; and your distorted visions. Taken together, you couldn’t help but quell the sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach that perhaps the ill-fitting puzzle pieces in your life weren’t natural at all – that they were purposefully tampered upon. That everything has been orchestrated. That you have been toyed around like a rat in a maze.

It even sometimes occurred to you that perhaps the said maze had been his in the first place – though you can never for the life of you figure out how and why would he go through such lengths.

Hence why you’ve been battling tooth and arms for the popular book in your hand. A book on trauma that perhaps could shed light as to why your mind has been going haywire; why your memories did not seem like they were yours; and why you feel so inexplicably haunted – as if you’re forgetting something, as if a danger is looming, as if Park Sunghoon is someone you should be wary of for more ominous reasons instead of just for his prowess at catching and breaking hearts.

“You know you can trust me right?” Jungwon murmured softly, bringing you back to reality. You felt him coming up behind you, his chest pressing against your back as he reached over towards the self-checkout machine, offering to help you instead since you had begun to space out. You edged away slightly, giving him some space – still not used to how excessively attentive and tactile Yang Jungwon has been as of late.

Now, Jungwon has indeed always been a chivalrous lad but his actions, gazes and touches back then were never excessive – it was always strictly and unmistakably cordial that there would be no room to overthink nor misunderstand the meaning of it. As of late however you couldn’t help but notice how every touch and gaze linger a tad bit too long that you couldn’t help but feel increasingly apprehensive of something bubbling underneath. It’s all in your head, you would try to convince yourself sometimes, feeling guilty of being so suspicious of someone that has offered nothing but constant help and comfort to you as of late.

“I know,” you softly muttered back, “I can’t trust myself though.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he smiled reassuringly, his voice ever so gentle and soft, “because I do.”

You smiled back almost automatically, eventually relenting especially under the weight of his compelling gaze. “Well, it’s nothing serious really. Just a recurring nightmare that’s debilitating,” you mumbled, carefully weighing each word so as not to overshare, “I would have just ignored it but I feel like its recurrence is starting to distort my perception. It didn’t help that the place, the man, the feeling, all felt familiar – as if it had been a memory that is replayed rather than just a dream conjured. Anyway, I uh, just wanted to check if they could mean something psychologically because I’ve read before that traumas can manifests itself in the form of nightmares too.”

“Like in PTSD sufferers?” he sympathized, “It's possible. You did after all underwent a near death experience in campus.”

“Yeah…” you murmured, slightly surprised to hear him reference the case you experienced in campus which you were sure only Heeseung knew of. But then again, you reassured yourself, Jungwon worked part-time as a guard so it’s possible that it’s something made known to them for safety measures. You then noticed his attention shifting away from your eyes towards you neck, brows knitting in recognition of something, “that mark, how did you-” his hand begin to reach up, ghosting over your neck when you guys were sorely interrupted by a booming, jovial voice.

“Good evening lovebirds, hope we’re not intruding.”

You two immediately snapped your head towards the direction of the voice, startled, as if you two had been walked into while doing something incriminating. It was Jake Sim, the Student Union’s Head of Sports, tugging on his sleeve to show you guys the Burgundy-coloured arm band he was wearing which signify that he was on patrol duty. Trailing behind him was, of course, Park Sunghoon.

“It’s 15 minutes until the start of the curfew,” Jake announced as he approached you both before turning his attention squarely towards you, “just want to make sure this lady right here won’t overstay.”

“I guess I must have a bounty over my head with the way you and your little gang are always up in my business,” you muttered flatly as you shot Sunghoon a brief accusatory glance, “I was just leaving.”

“Pretty sure your friend here," Jungwon suddenly spoke up, eyes flitting to Sunghoon, then back to Jake, "-isn't part of the Student Union. Surely you're not reprimanding someone but turning a blind eye to your own best friend ? that would be low of you Jake Sim."

You pressed your lips together to quell the amusement and satisfaction that was quickly blooming over your face. As expected from the poster boy of chivalry and valour in campus, you thought to yourself as you give Jungwon a brief look of admiration.  

“Oh don’t worry, I was just leaving as well,” Sunghoon calmly replied though the brief tightening of his jaw seem to indicate that the comment didn’t miss the mark. Suddenly he turned to you, “since they both have to make the last sweep before curfew, it’s just us then. Shall we head out together?”

“I can head out alone just fine,” you replied him curtly and bid Jungwon a quick goodbye, before turning on your heel and exiting the main hall, taking the back corridor towards the back exit instead in hopes that you wouldn’t have to deal with Sunghoon anymore.

Except as you descended down the stairs, you could hear footsteps following you. You rolled your eyes and picked up your pace, knowing exactly who it was.

“Aren’t you walking too fast right now? Scared of the curfew or scared of me?” Sunghoon asked, the amusement in his voice audible. You ignored him, pushing past a series of glass doors that separated the corridors, hoping that one of them would have slammed him right in the face.

“You seem pretty chummy with that cat-eye lad,” he started again, “Do you have a thing for men who resemble animals or something? first your fox-looking guard dog then this cat-looking –“

“Park Sunghoon, get lost,” you hissed as you turned around abruptly, having had enough of him pestering you. To your surprise, despite the sound of his footsteps, he was actually just a few steps away from you which caught you off guard as he almost crashed onto you the moment you turned around. Not that it bothered him though for he just grinned slyly, satisfied to have incited a reaction from you.

“Aren’t you being too cold to me?” he raised his brows, waving a blue book in his hand – the book you had just loaned out and should have been safely tucked in your zipped backpack, “you actually dropped this and I was just trying to give it back to you.”

You furrowed your brows in a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment as you make a grab for the book, only for him to retract his hand back, “Oh? I thought you wanted me to get lost?”

“Give it back,” you demanded.

“Say it nicely,” he taunted, biting his lips to suppress the grin that was blooming across his lips.

You scoffed thinking how you should have known better. “Over my dead body,” you spat as you backed away, your patience thinning, “you know what? you can have it. I’d rather pay the penalty fee.”

With that you turned back and marched towards the exit door hoping that that would have offended him enough to leave you alone. Except this was Park Sunghoon we are talking about and if there is anything you can predict about him is that he will always act the opposite of what you expect and anticipate – like a true contrarian.

As you swung the door open, Sunghoon had caught up to you, and in just swift motions, he reached over and slammed the door back close – drawing parallels to the scene at the beginning of your nightmare when the door was shut close too as soon as you swung it open. Like a memory trigger, memories of your nightmare flooded in – filling you with a sense of confusion. You turned around, about to tell him off, only to be unnerved by how close he was, dwarfing over you in such a menacing way – again drawing parallels to your nightmare when you were backed up by a faceless man.

“For someone who is always running into dangerous situations, you sure still run your mouth freely y/n,” he chided threateningly in a low voice. Shivers went down your spine as your back pressed onto the cold glass behind you though you weren’t sure if it was the contact that made you shudder or was it the way Sunghoon loomed ominously before you with the dimmed lighting accentuating the steeliness of his expressions and the gravity of his commanding gaze.

You start to feel a lump in your throat, feeling your mind raking for memories that you weren’t even sure were there as if it was trying to warn you that something similar had unfolded beyond the realms of dreams before – of which didn’t end well. Still, always too brave for your own good, you refused to show any signs of fear as your stared back up into his increasingly paralyzing stare, almost as if challenging him.

In the midst of all the confusion, a dangerous and risky thought brewed in your mind. If Sunghoon really have anything to do with your hallucinations and even nightmares, you figured that you should be able to trigger it as per the previous cases when somehow being close to him seemed to have set it off. Thus, as if you two hadn’t been unnecessarily close in proximity already, you did the unthinkable as your hands reached up towards him, grabbing his collar and pulling him down towards you, catching the ever-so-inscrutable Park Sunghoon totally off-guard. His brows knitted in a mixture of confusion and alarm, his Adam’s apple bobbing – looking uncharacteristically unnerved, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, seething, as he gripped your wrist, his nails digging onto your skin painfully that you were sure it’d leave a mark.

A familiar sense of forebode soon rose from every small detail you see and every little sensation you felt: from the way he looked down murderously at you, to the way gripped your wrist, to the way the fabric of his shirt felt under your clutch. It was all starting to evoke that sickening feeling of déjà vu that is almost too heavy and ominous that it was paralyzing. Your visions begun to distort, transitioning rapidly between the Sunghoon that was right there with you in library, to Sunghoon standing in a dark, moon-lit room. From a glowering Sunghoon who looked like he was going to murder you to a Sunghoon who looked rather sultrily at you.

You gulped, mustering every strength and rationality in you not to crumble under it all. It’s just in your mind y/n, you tell yourself repeatedly as the visions rapidly transitioned, showing similar sequences as the ones you’ve had before. Except this time, as the Sunghoon from your visions lowered his face towards you, about to close the gap, you felt him dip lower, latching instead to your neck instead of your lips – mirroring your nightmares with the faceless man sinking his fangs onto your neck. When the man pulled back, you faced the exact same faceless man as the one in your dreams – the shadows concealing the rest of his face save for the sharp jawline, pale skin, plump lips, fangs, and blood-stained shirt.

Had this been your typical nightmare, this would have usually been the part where it all ended. But somehow this time, it went on, his face craning in such a way that the moonlight, which streamed through a nearby window, gradually illuminated the rest of his face: his nose, his eyes, hair. Your trepidation quickly combusted into that of horror as you realized now why the man’s features had always evoked such a strange feeling of familiarity.

It was Park Sunghoon’s.

“You…” you croaked, mind fraught in turmoil when the scene before you melted away, reverting back to Sunghoon at present in the library, who had just aggressively yanked your hands off of him. You noticed the subtle brief eyebrow twitch and clenching of jaw as he teetered back – almost as if he registered or realized something.

“Don’t play with fire y/n,” he glowered and suddenly the lights around the library started to flicker wildly and in the fraction of second when his face directly caught the light, you noticed how his dark brown eyes had unexplainably turned into a shade of amber though you couldn’t double take as the light completely went out after, his voice echoing in the dark, “—you’ll get burnt”.

When the lights switched back on after a few seconds, Sunghoon was gone – as if he had disapparated.

Suddenly whatever courage and strength you had from earlier dissipated and you crumbled onto the cold marble floor – legs weak, hearts wildly palpitating and mind completely stretched thin. Memories from that night when Sunghoon sank his teeth onto your neck started to flood back to you like burst dam, filling you with overwhelming emotions that you found yourself heaving and paralysed.

Twice in your life, you downplayed all the signs that had been there: from Sunghoon’s omnipresence around your life; the way events around your life seemingly gravitate towards him; the way his words always felt double-laced — it now all made sense. They were no coincidence — they were all him, everything was a web purely spun by him. The way he manipulated everything to his favour, from removing obstacles to tipping events, and then subsequently weaponised your own mind and memories against you to the point of insanity.

You remembered feeling very foolish back then in your last waking moments but now you just felt completely stupid for being strung around by Park Sunghoon again to the point of insanity.

What happened next was a total blur as you became so overwhelmed and numb from the rush of memories and realization: from having to process that vampires are not a stuff of fables; to Sunghoon being one; and to you being the one preyed upon. When you arrived home, you didn’t even bother to switch on the lights nor shower – just collapsing dejectedly and weakly onto your couch. Your train of thoughts soon melded into a disjointed mess as your body eased, lulling you into a sleeping state. It all then warped into something familiar — a large living living room, a figure following you from behind, door slamming shut just when you open it, you getting pinned against it — it was the same thing.

Except this time, everything was as clear as day – without any glitches and without any concealment – Park Sunghoon looming before you eyeing you as if you were meat. Everything then flooded back to you: you packing up to go home, him blocking you and forcing a kiss on you to the point your lips bled, then him stopping you from escaping, taunting you before sinking his fangs onto you. As you drift in and out of consciousness, you could see him sporting a triumphant grin, lips and collar morbidly smeared with blood – your blood – as he caressed your cheeks, rubbing the tears away as if he hadn’t been the one to have caused it in the first place.

“not so feisty now huh? y/n?” was the last thing you heard before it all went black.

Your eyes then fluttered open. You can feel your cheeks wet, apparently shedding a tear in your sleep just like in your nightmare. Unlike previous nights when you jolt awake in horror, sometimes even screaming, this time, you were calm – awash with a sense of clarity.

It has never been any random man. It has never been any normal nightmare.

It was Park Sunghoon all along.

And they weren’t nightmares, they were repressed memories.

You feel your fists clench in vehemence. You knew that your days now were probably numbered for there was no way he would let you off now that your memories have returned. Far from being scared however, you felt bolder, empowered by the desire to not let him have the upper hand. If I’m going down, you thought to yourself as your hand reached for the spot on your neck where the puncture mark had been, you’re going down with me Sunghoon.

— ii

“How many more bagged bloods is it going to take for you to realise that that is not hunger?” Jake jabbed, clicking his tongue dismissively at the way Sunghoon aggressively bite onto yet another bagged blood, finishing it in just seconds as if he hadn’t drunk for weeks. Jake shuddered when Sunghoon turned around, glowering, his eyes a luminous golden as he crumpled the empty bag, throwing it angrily across the room. Sunghoon has always been the calm one so to see him this agitated was alarming.

Sunghoon knew a drop of your blood could drive him off the rails but what he didn’t know was how you, in your entirety, could have the same effect. He felt dizzy again as he was reminded of when you had daringly, and foolishly he might add, pulled him earlier – the way your dark eyes, like whirlpool, was threatening to pull him deeper; the way your lips, parted and flushed, threatened to drew him close; the way you looked so small under him, making him go almost feral at the thought of completely engulfing you. Fuck, he cussed again internally as he slumped onto the bed, face buried in his hands, feeling the burn rising.

“It’s that toxic mix of obsession and lust that you hate the most,” Jake suggested, “swallow your pride tonight and prey on someone else both for fresh blood and for your other carnal desires – that’s how you’ll get through the burn. Nothing beats the satiation from a living person.”

In any other times, he would have already lunged at Jake but right now he was too overwhelmed to even glare at him. Begrudgingly he agreed to be dragged to another party tonight – much to the delight of Jay and Jake. Technically if what he felt was lust, he can just find other women from the hottest to the most skillful, to satiate that. If what he felt was hunger for fresh blood from a living human – that, too, he can find from another human. Whatever it takes, the world is essentially his oyster and tonight, he wasn’t going to restrain himself.

Thus unlike his usual untouchable and prickly self, Sunghoon was a different man tonight for when they arrived at a frat party in another university, his hands quickly found the hottest woman who was more than eager to get it on with him.

You’re nothing to me y/n, he thought to himself they sloppily made out in one of the empty bedrooms, his hands roaming frantically as his desire rise and fall with every touch and kisses, convincing him that it had indeed been just any normal lust. Except as the night deepened and things escalated further than he usually would allow, you still burned in the back of his mind. Burning ever brighter as if he had just tried to put down fire with fuel with him being the one at stake, completely engulfed in flames.

Now vampires don’t really get sick but with the way the burn within him was almost incapacitating, he might as well be breaking into a fever. A fever that is leaving him infuriatingly confused as to whether he wants to eliminate you or own you.

— iii

Your nightmares stopped since that evening. On one hand, you were grateful, finally having adequate and uninterrupted amount of sleep each night – something that has become a rarity to you that it was almost a luxury. On the other hand, you were slightly bummed. There were still some things you wanted to confirm, of which you could potentially do by revisiting your nightmares and yet now that you were seeking for it, it had completely vanished, leaving you with nothing but just dubious patchwork of memories of which was getting increasingly fragile and fleeting as days passed.

“It’s all red herring I tell you,” you hear Sunoo grumble from the other side of your door, occasionally knocking to ask you if you were ready, before continuing on with his ramblings and complaints, “there is no way a 23-year old drug addict did all that. I’ve been dabbling in Press work long enough to see a red herring when I see one. I bet you whoever is behind all these is powerful and influential to easily tamper with evidence and throw someone else under the bus like that.”

“I think so too,” you concurred though you stayed silent about your reasons. While you had been itching to tell Sunoo everything you knew and what had transpired between you and Sunghoon, you had no evidence whatsoever. Not yet, at least. Objectively too, though you now know that Sunghoon is no ordinary human, perhaps not one at all, you don’t have evidence that he is behind all the serial killings either. Sure the shoe fits but for all you know, there might have been many like him around town, operating solitarily or even colluding with one another to prey on humankind while covering each other’s back. In fact, the whole town might have just been rats in a maze for them.

There is also another reason as to why you have been keeping your mouth tightly sealed in this regard: to protect Sunoo himself. After what Heeseung and Sunghoon did to him, you were sure Sunoo harboured so much ill-feelings towards them that no amount of reason could ever talk some sense into him had he gotten a whiff of these information. In fact, you were certain that he would immediately run with it, printing the stories out without any care for the lack of evidence, let alone the grave implications of doing so. Hence, you’ve kept yourself silent about it, preferring to gather information and piece it all out alone for now.

“You can come in now, I’m done putting on my dress,” you said as you applied a burgundy shade of lipstick over your coral lips, dabbing on it to spread it evenly across. Noticing the way Sunoo seemed stupefied at the sight of you with jaws agape, you started to feel self-conscious, trying to pull the tulle sleeves of your off-the-shoulder sequinned black gown upwards, “Is it too much? too revealing? should I change to-“

“Oh quit it. More like too stunning,” Sunoo gushed overdramatically as he encircled you, “I can’t believe how adamant you were to miss the ball tonight. Look at you, you look absolutely jaw-dropping right now, as if you’re made for the ball.”

“You’re just saying that because I have begrudgingly agreed to come with you to the Winter Ball,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m all set now, let’s go – won’t want to be fashionably late, I’m not made for that kind of attention.”

“Even if you’re not fashionably late, you would end up commanding a lot of attention tonight anyway,” he winked as he helped you with your coat, placing it loosely over your exposed shoulders.

Ever since the culprit has been caught, life has finally returned to campus with the return of the long-awaited annual Winter Ball sealing the deal – serving like a celebration that the worse was finally over. As if the weather was also on the side of the event, it had begun to lightly snow that evening as well, covering the merrily-decorated compound of campus in the colour of purity as if symbolising a 'rebirth', making the whole scene before you seem so magical and otherworldy especially as everyone were dressed so formally with their tailored suits and classy gowns.

While you have never been interested in the Ball, you succumbed to the continuous pressures from Sunoo who never tire in pestering, whining and bribing you to attend it with him. You were actually adamant on standing your ground but after weeks of seeing him being all dejected and moody from having his investigation resources confiscated by Heeseung, you thought this would cheer him up. Thankfully, it really did – bringing the megawatt smile back to his face while adding extra spring to his steps.

When you two finally reached the Grand Hall with 45 minutes to spare before the start of the event, it was already brimming with life as students and staffs, all decked in their finest, mingled about – filling the air with a cacophony of sounds from chatters, laughters, whispers, and clinking of glasses – all of which floated above the soft classical music that is being played by a live Orchestra. Usually grim and sombre owing to its Gothic Architecture and monochromatic grandeur, the Grand Hall too was transformed into a majestic wonder tonight, looking like the epitome of opulence, magnificence and exclusivity, with all the ostentatious chandeliers; taper candles; hydrangea centrepieces; twinkling lights; and garlands.

Sunoo excitedly tug onto your hand, his eyes twinkling in delight, almost mirroring the fairy lights that adorned the columns and trees. You were never the type to enjoy social events like Balls nor were you ever a fan of being in a crowd, but after months of trepidation and despondency, the bustling crowd and noise was oddly comforting – like a sure sign that the worse is definitely over. In fact, as you two settled in, meeting and catching up with old friends and other coursemates, you were really beginning to take Sunoo’s words for it – that you’d have the time of your life tonight.

At least that was what you thought until about an hour and a half later when the crowd quietened down into gasps and whispers. From the reaction you'd have thought the Dean had walked into the Hall but it was none other than Sunghoon and his clique, having just arrived, decked in the finest suits from the most luxurious brands, effortlessly looking like the embodiment of wealth, class and charisma. Sunghoon himself was dressed regally in a black sleek and custom-tailored YSL suit with a distinct intricately-designed ruby-centred coat of arms pinned on his lapel. Sunghoon had always looked cold and intimidating but his partially slicked-back hair tonight, which fully exposed his thick brows, prominent brow bone and piercing gaze, was amplifying it all – lending a rather ethereal, otherworldly and untouchable quality to him.

“Such attention hogs,” Sunoo muttered disdainfully, “I was so sure they would decline the invitation again this year and yet here they are—”

“Is it too late to go back now?” you grumbled, grimacing at the way everyone clamour and gushed over them like sunflowers towards the sun – totally oblivious to the fact that there is a monster lurking amongst them. All of a sudden, as if he knew you were there and you had been staring, his eyes directly met yours in a chilling precision amidst all the distance and the crowd that stood between you two. You held his gaze, eventually scowling when he refused to look away and proceeding to give you the once-over with a smirk blooming across his lips.

“Ugh,” Sunoo groaned, turning you around, and shielding you away from Sunghoon’s prying eyes, “he’s so shameless – it’s almost as if he wants you right there and then.”

Yeah, want me dead, you thought to yourself.

Fortunately, as they always had a crowd clamouring over them, they were always so preoccupied and were always away from your line of sight so you were able to go about your evening unbothered, completely in your own world, joking and dancing with Sunoo as well as with some of your other coursemates – completely forgetting that Sunghoon was even around. Until that is, the lighting started to the dim, the Orchestral music started to gradually grow louder and the floor started to clear – signalling the start of the long-awaited Waltzing session. You watched in awe as some people begin to join others at the centre of the hall, each rhythmically and formulaically Waltzing to the classical music with their partners with so much ease and grace as if it’s something that anyone normally does in their pastime.

Just then you felt Sunoo tugging your hand with a sheepish grin that you knew only meant trouble. You mouthed a few protests, trying to retreat away but as you begin to feel the heat of people’s stares, you had no choice but to begrudgingly let yourself get dragged to the dance floor, not wanting to cause a fuss and attract more attention.

“You owe me big time Kim Sunoo,” you grumbled through gritted teeth as you watched other couples warily while Sunoo just confidently held your hand in his and wrapped a hand around your waist, guiding you carefully according to the melody of Tchaikovsky’s 'Serenade For Strings in C Major, Op.48 II', “come on, what’s a ball without proper dancing? You already look the part, might as well play the part. Trust me okay? now relax your shoulders and carefully, follow my steps, 1, 2, yes, now backwards, yes -”

That was how you ended up on the dance floor, waltzing through a series of classical music, and a series of different men because Sunoo cheekily did not tell you that partners change whenever the classical pieces change. As if that wasn’t awkward enough – you could feel someone’s burning stare on you throughout the dance: Park Sunghoon.

While his hands were always on the hottest women in campus and he was always so preoccupied, whether it is in conversations, chatters, or even whispers, his eyes never failed to meet yours in an uncanny precision whenever your eyes accidentally landed on him in the crowd. That is, if he hadn't already been staring at you in the first place like a vulture waiting for their prey to succumb to its death. At one point, you held his gaze, frowning to show your utter contempt – hoping that that would have given him the message and make him look away but with the way the corner of his lips tipped, that obviously had the opposite effect. In fact, at one time, his partner ended up turning around, proceeding to give you the stink eye as if you had been checking out Sunghoon in the first place. As if, you thought to yourself, grimacing.

“Evening beautiful.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, realising then that the piece had changed again and the man that was holding your hand had changed. “Jungwon!” you gasped, face melting into utter relief and glee. Your body relaxed almost immediately in his touch after all the stiffness you had to maintain from the bunch of strangers you had to shuffle through for the Waltz so far.

“Wouldn’t want to miss a dance with the most beautiful lady in the hall tonight,” he grinned cheekily as he wrapped his hand over your waist ever so gently, guiding you carefully and attentively through the slow melody. It was classic Yang Jungwon – comforting and dependable. Except tonight, contrasting his usual boy-next-door image, his slicked-back hair, which fully exposed his strong arched brows and sharp feline eyes, lent a much stronger charismatic and refined impression to his look and vibe which could lean towards unnerving, if not alluring, if he wasn’t smiling cheerily like he did right now.

“No shift tonight?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, I do in about 45 minutes since they are short-staffed due to the holiday season,” he pressed his lips into a thin line, “but doesn’t matter, now that I’ve danced with you, my evening is complete.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re the last person I’m dancing with as well,” you replied before almost stumbling as the music sped up, struggling to keep up. Always so gallant and dependable, he quickly held you steady, beaming reassuringly as he wheeled you away to a more spacious area, “I’ve got you, just follow these sequences- yep, there you go…”

“Sorry about that. I haven’t acclimatised myself to upbeat waltzing. Heck even waltzing in itself was some sort of an uphill struggle,” you smiled apologetically, eyes trained on your feet to make sure you won’t be stepping on him again before flitting back up into his eyes, “never even planned to come but Sunoo insisted.”

“Well, he deserves a medal for convincing you then and I am grateful that you did. You were the only one I was searching for in the crowd earlier.”

“You’re not already drunk are you? you are unusually flirty tonight,” you raised your brows quizzically before chuckling playfully, “this isn’t you – bring me back that innocent, anti-romantic, Jungwon.”

With a playful smirk he corrected, “first things first, old Jungwon is long gone. Secondly,” you feel his grip over your waist tighten and the grin slowly faltering as his gaze seemingly darkened, “I’m not that innocent.”

You chuckled lightly, thinking that he was just being playfully dismissive though you find your smile faltering as you notice the way his gaze shifted, the way his eyes flitted ever so briefly seemingly towards your lips and neck. “Is the mark on your neck gone?” he asked. It took you a while to process what he was referring to when you were reminded of that night in the library when he was going to ask something about it before getting interrupted by Jake. “Oh- that,” you mustered. For reasons unknown you somehow decided to lie, “yeah, it was just a small injury.”

He raised his brows, looking unconvinced, “it didn’t look like a normal injury to me? How did you get it?”

You have always known that Jungwon’s stare can be too intense sometimes especially since he had sharp feline eyes and strongly-arched brows but the way he stared down at you right now really unnerved you in a way that makes you feel cornered. “Not sure actually. Perhaps it was a bed bug from when I went to the rurals for volunteering last time,” you lied again, hoping that that could’ve been believable.

“Ah-“ his mouth hung, “those bloodsuckers.”

You could have swore he said the last word with extra, unnecessary, emphasis – as if he knew you were lying and he wanted you to know that. Thankfully, the piece was nearing its end so you didn't need to stare into those forceful and hypnotizing eyes any longer as you turned around, swaying in shadow position just like other dancers. His words and gaze however still lingered in your mind so distractingly that as you twirled you lost his hand for a brief moment though he recaptured it just in time as you spun back towards him. Except, the hands that had caught you was larger and you can see now, to your horror, it was not even Jungwon anymore. It was Sunghoon and the piece had already transitioned to a darker piece: the majestic ‘Swan Lake Op.20, Act II, No.10’ by Tchaikovsky.

“How did you—,“ you stuttered, caught completely off guard. You could have sworn Sunghoon was far away from you the last time you caught a glimpse of him – the distance of which would have been impossible for him to be your next dance partner.

“You’re not wrong,” he conceded, almost as if he could read your mind and was replying to your thoughts, “I had to break the social etiquette and leave my partner before the piece ended just so I can have the last dance with you before someone else snatches you away.”

You scoffed, really not having it. “well, I’m not one for rules either,” you snubbed, just about to pull away from him and break the etiquette by leaving the dance mid-way when you felt him interlacing his fingers with yours while his other hand that was just resting over your waist, slid higher, snaking across your back, seizing you in a vice-like grip, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You would just attract a lot of attention since half of those in the room are looking at us now. I know you hate attention.”

You looked around and true enough, almost everyone’s attention in the hall was on you both. You stared back up at Sunghoon, flummoxed, “you did this on purpose didn’t you? Wasn’t the previous piece supposed to have been the last dance?”

“Well, what I want, I get,” he asserted domineeringly, brows arched up smugly as he wheeled you away in an adept yet dizzying turn across the dance floor past other couples. Perplexingly, despite the pace and force at which he was leading you, you hadn’t stumbled even once – it was almost as if you had been put under a spell, a spell that enraptured you in a fixed pre-set rhythm with him.

“So you’re saying that dancing with me tonight is what you want?” you asked mockingly just to spite him.

“Wrong,” he tutted, “it’s you that I want.”

“Is that doublespeak for my blood?” you provoked. Seeing the way his brows made the slightest twitch and his gaze darkened made you feel almost triumphant. He lowered his face slightly, tilting it, and bringing his lips close to your ears, “don’t play with me darling,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ears, sending shivers down your spine, “I can conjure up your worst memories here right now. Maybe then you’ll learn not to run your mouth too liberally in public.”

You jerked your head away from him and stared back into his darkened gaze in defiance though the way your jaw tightened was enough to satisfy him for it was a sign that you were fraying no matter the tough front you put forward for him. “why haven’t you killed me yet?” you asked, point-blank.

“Well, killing you would mean letting you off easy,” he cooed, “you don’t deserve that.”

You chewed the inside of your lower lip, seething, wondering how much longer you could tolerate being so close to this vile man. Every second felt like decades and you have become increasingly hyperaware of the way he was holding you – with every part of your body that was touching his, searing. From his large hand that had snaked over your back; his fingers that were all interlaced with yours; and your body all locked with his — you were effectively being seized, like a prey. More infuriatingly is the way your heartbeat was picking up though you couldn’t tell if it was simply out fury for having to dance with the devil; apprehension over his next steps; or, as much as you hated, over how flustered he was making you feel.

Nevertheless, you weren’t one to admit defeat nor show any signs of vulnerability – especially not to him. So even if you felt like you were going to buckle under his intense gaze and cower away from his strong hold, you persistently powered through – feigning nonchalance as you stared back in those dark commanding eyes unflinchingly. You figured for someone so prideful, power-obsessed and controlling like him, who always have the upper hand and have people wrapped around his fingers, accusing him of having feelings for you and being obsessed with you would be the greatest insult which in turn would have triggered him to act rashly. Hence you decided to play along, taunting him mockingly with the aim of riling him to the point of slipping up, “Oh yeah? I do hope that that is indeed the case,” you muttered lowly, “— not because you’re catching feelings for me. That would have been such a low blow, falling for a mere mortal who feels nothing but vehemence towards you.”

Pressing his tongue against his cheek, he scoffed, lips curling agonisingly slow into a rather insidious grin. “Oh yeah?” he drawled, his hand sliding further, fingers curling over your side ribs with nails digging painfully into your skin like talons, “then why is your heart beating so fast? Are you scared of me?” he raised his brows smugly as he harshly pulled you closer up his body as if trying to assert his dominance and further grind your gears, “or are you attracted to me? Would be a low blow for you either way isn’t it?”

“Speak for yourself,” your hand had already travelled down his shoulder, resting on his chest, eyes boring into his, unyielding and challenging, “yours is matching mine. You should be careful Sunghoon, you might need more blood to keep that shrivelled heart pumping this fast.”

Just then the piece picked up, booming into the last chorus line as if trying to mirror the tension that was brewing and threatening to spill over between the two of you as you two obsess over one-upping the other, completely oblivious over the fact that sometimes, the line between hate and attraction are blurry. In fact, to many unassuming observers, it was very easy to mistake the both of you as being completely enamoured with one another especially with the proximity, hand placements, the locked gazes and the banters. But whose to say they were wrong when deep down the both of you couldn’t tell for certain either.

The music fortunately stopped just in time, preventing anything from escalating and as if utterly disgusted you immediately pried his hand off of your back, feeling his touch searing by the second. He wasn’t going to let you off easy though as he tugged onto your hand, causing you to slightly tip towards him, before bringing the hand close to his lips. You watched in horror as he pressed his lips onto the back of your hand planting a gentle kiss that caused shockwaves across the crowd. A devious smirk immediately tugged on that very lip, “you look beautiful tonight by the way. Ravishing. Would have told you that earlier if we weren’t constantly at each other’s throat.”

You yanked your hand back protectively, embarrassed and fuming. You hated how his every move are always so calculated with the intention delivering the biggest blow to you as if someone was keeping score. Sunoo emerged just in time from the crowd, hissing curses at Sunghoon as he wrapped a protective arm over you and took you away. “You okay?” he asked, lowering his face to meet yours. You plastered a smile, nodding, “I’m fine. He was just messing around.”

Just then, one of the staffs took over the podium, announcing that it was time for dinner, fortunately diverting everyone’s attention away from you towards the food and drinks that were being wheeled into the hall. “I should have kept a closer watch on you,” he said apologetically, “I didn’t know he was that determined to get to you. Kind of weird though. I mean after months of pretending you were nothing but a stranger?” Sunoo paused, eyeing you suspiciously, “you’re not… hiding anything from me are you?”

You shook your head, pretending to be unaffected and nonchalant, “None whatsoever. He’s just bitter that I beat him in the other essay. Classic Sunghoon.”

Thankfully, Sunoo didn’t press on further, readily buying into your lie. As he was busy eyeing the rich selections of food, you looked away, feeling your head spinning though you couldn’t tell if it was from the excessive socialising, dizzying waltzing, or maybe it was Sunghoon and the array of emotions he was capable of evoking from you all at the same time – fear, dread, anger, you name it. Eyes trained on the empty galleries decked out on the upper floors, you decided to slip away from Sunoo, who was busy socialising now, to find a momentary respite. 

As you reached one of the galleries, which was decked in burgundy-gold colour palettes, you hunched over the wooden bannister, propping your elbow up and resting your chin in your palm, looking over blankly at the bustling crowd on the floors below. As if there was gravity pulling, your eyes ended up wandering towards Sunghoon, seated at the corner with his little clique, surrounded by other wealthy and popular kids as per usual.

You scowled as memories from earlier – from his taunts, flirtations, to his threatening remarks – flooded back in. If only people know what you are Sunghoon, you thought to yourself.

As you laboured over these thoughts, you soon found your mind treading dangerous waters, your other hand already slipping inside your purse, making a grab for something: an army swiss knife – something you had been carrying as of late for protection.

Your eyes flitted from the knife to Sunghoon, then back, thinking to yourself, theoretically, like sharks, the littlest drop of blood should be easily detected by him. You flipped the blade out as you gave Sunoo a quick text telling him to stay where he was and start filming the crowd if anything happens. A barrage of texts immediately came through from Sunoo but you ignored it as you slipped the phone back into your purse, eyes trained on Sunghoon as your resolve to cause havoc was strengthening by the second, if I’m lucky he would lose control right in front of everyone.

With no hesitation you slid the blade across a small section of your palm though in your haste, the cut went deeper than expected with blood quickly pooling and trailing down. You winced, feeling it sting as you looked back at Sunghoon who was still engrossed in a conversation with others. Then suddenly as if a switch had been turned in his head, he looked up straight at you in such a chilling precision as if he knew you were right there.

Startled and alarmed, you edged away from the railings, trying to escape his field of vision. The lights started to flicker then and you knew you got him. Heart hammering wildly against your chest with your fight and flight response kicking in, you quickly darted out of the gallery.

The lights had completely went out then, leaving the winding corridor illuminated ominously with a red glow from the emergency lights in the corner. You can hear the crowd below erupting in unrest. Just as you reached the staircase you saw a CCTV right in the corner and another risky thought brewed in your mind. You purposefully slowed down and as you anticipated, not a full second after, you feel someone’s heavy presence behind you though before you could turn around, you found yourself slammed to the nearest wall.

The corner of your lips lifted, forming a small triumphant grin at the sight of Sunghoon in front of you, “aren’t you too easy Park Sunghoon?” you mocked, gritting your teeth his hand grabbed your neck, threatening to choke you.  It might look as if Sunghoon has all the upper hand right now but nothing could be far from the truth because if anyone knows anything about him, to be able to rile the calm, collected and calculative Sunghoon up to this point is a massive feat. After all, he was always the one who is a few steps ahead, the who orchestrates, the who puppeteers. But now, despite all his attempts, his efforts seemingly backfired with his eyes already lightening to Golden; fangs fully erupted; and breathing all labored, both out of anger and increasingly, hunger.  “You must really have a death wish y/n,” he warned insidiously.

You would be lying if you said the sight of him glowering murderously at you with razor sharp teeth and glowing golden eyes did not terrify you but from the moment your memories had started to slowly return weeks ago, you knew your days were numbered and that realization struck something in you – turning you from the risk-averse and non-confrontational person you had always been, to someone who is more defiant and dauntless. After all, if you’re going to die – you might as well die fighting.

Hence why, instead of pleading for mercy, you were relentlessly trying to provoke him, “with an opportunity served on a golden platter like this,” you derided, smirking as you ran your bloody hand up his wrist that was on your neck, “you shouldn’t fumble again. It’s getting too embarrassing at this point. Aren't you supposed to be infallible?”

You could see the alarm in his face as he realised a second too late how you had effectively smeared your blood on his hand, which had by then seeped onto his cuffs. Just like how your blood slowly crept up his cuff, dying every fiber at the edge into a deep shade of red, he, too, was increasingly engulfed in a confusing mess of impulse and desires which was getting harder to fight. Juxtaposing his usual calculated movements and calm and controlled facial expressions, he was thrown into disarray now as he yanked your hand aggressively away, pinning it against the wall, only to have his senses and rationality struck harder, as your bloodied palm was now fully exposed, the blood of which was dripping down towards his own hand – the scent now becoming overbearing that he was seeing red.

“Or do you prefer to do it in alleys, leaving my bloodless, punctured, body to be the next cold case in town? Oh wait, it can’t be a cold case anymore since you’ve got someone else to throw all the blame to,” you goaded further, truly having no regard whatsoever for your own life, “poor guy. For all we know you might also be running a drug den – essentially a pool of black sheeps to tap onto should you need someone to throw under the bus.”

Almost snarling, you feel him tighten his grip over your wrist, his nails digging onto your skin, as he lunged towards you. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for what was to come. But instead of the prickle of pain on your neck that you expected to follow, you felt him crash his lips onto yours instead, aggressively devouring it like a man starved. Your eyes flew open, aghast, as you felt his hand crept up your back possessively, pulling your body flush against him with unyielding strength as if any space in between would have killed him. You yelped – the sounds of which he swallowed as he thrust his tongue inside your mouth and deepened the kiss so heatedly that you could almost taste the anger and bitterness in the way his lips ferociously and hungrily devour yours. You then felt your bottom lip getting tugged in between his teeth, the pain of which made you wince, before it sent you thrashing harder against him when you felt him nibble, lick and suck on it. Not that any of your efforts were fruitful for he was far stronger – completely unbothered and unyielding like a stone. In fact, the more you thrashed and protested, the more seemingly intoxicated and entranced he became as he completely pressed his body up against yours, effectively immobilising you against the wall.

Your mind was getting hazy from the lack of air and just when you thought you might pass out, he pulled back, staring down at you domineeringly with his penetrating and devilish golden eyes. “Who’s easy now?” he mocked in a show of dominance and power as his tongue sultrily licked his blood-smeared lips.

“You fucking psycho-“ you hissed breathlessly as you shoved him away with as much strength as you could muster.

“Next time you pull this kind of stunt-“ he warned, the colour of his eyes gradually darkening to his usual dark brown colour as the grin on his face faltered, “–actually, forget it. I’ll make sure that you won’t even have a next time.”

“Why don’t you put money where your mouth is,” you spat as your fists clench in fury, “or is your mouth too busy trying to chase mine?”

His brows shot up momentarily before he narrows his eyes menacingly at you. You were sure he was going to say or do something to you then when suddenly you hear Sunoo calling your name out repeatedly.

“y/n!”

You snapped your head towards the direction of the voice, seeing Sunoo appearing by the staircase, completely out of breath, hunched over the floor, as if he had just ran all the way up. When you turned back, Sunghoon was long gone with absolutely no signs of him nearby. You looked around haphazardly, checking each galleries, and looking over the bannisters, seeing absolutely no signs of him, as if he disapparated.

“y/n!”

Sunoo grabbed your hand, swivelling you harshly around to face him, “what is wrong with yo-“ he paused, gasping, eyes widening in alarm, “you’re bleeding!”

“oh right- it’s-“ you mumbled, snapping out of your thoughts, as you looked at your bloodied palm. Except instead of your hand, Sunoo dabbed his clean handkerchief againts the center of your lips instead. You edged your face away, surprised. When you reached and gently touched the stinging spot on your lips, true enough it was bleeding. You scoffed, reminded of Sunghoon’s bloody lips too, along with his mocking words “who’s easy now?” – realising only then what he had really meant as he had bitten your lips and sucked on it. That prick, you feel your shoulders dropping in defeat, your head splintering.

“Did you take a tumble or something?” Sunoo asked as he continued gently dabbing your bloody lips, “If I didn’t know any better I’d have thought you had been making out or something. Look at the state of your hair and your lips-“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you grumbled defensively, snatching his handkerchief from him, trying your best to feign nonchalance as memories of Sunghoon liplocking you started replaying in your mind like a broken film, “I tumbled on the stairs earlier, it was too dark.”

“You’re acting weird, do you know that?,” Sunoo eyed you suspiciously, “Actually – you have been acting weird. What was that text earlier? Stay there? Camera on?  What were you up to? But anyway thanks to your heads up, I caught something interesting.”

“Wait- you did?” you asked, hoping that perhaps Sunghoon could have been caught in his film. The way in which he suddenly appeared behind you was something no human could do – not in such speed, not when he was in the midst of a crowd and not in that dimmed lighting.

“Oh-“ you managed, evidently disappointed when you watched the clip in Sunoo’s phone. He filmed everywhere and everything except for the area where Sunghoon was initially at. The camera suddenly flipped to selfie mode, showing Sunoo looking confused as the lighting flickered, “Sunoo I didn’t tell you to film yourse-“

“Hey, exactly because I filmed this that I caught something odd,” he grumbled, fast-forwarding it to the time when Sunoo started swivelling around in the dark, “look at that man at the far corner near the statue,” you followed his finger, focusing on the guy who stood rooted there. It was grainy and blurry but you can see that his head snapped upwards as if he saw something alarming before suddenly he vanished just a few seconds the lighting went out.

“Wait, what-“ you grabbed Sunoo’s phone, rewinding it back and replaying it. There was no mistaking it, the guy definitely vanished into thin air. You first thought that it might have been Sunghoon but that would be impossible. After all before the lights shut off, he clearly was at the to other end of the hall, by the sofas – you saw that with your own eyes.

That was when the horrifying truth dawned on you, that your presumptions weren’t that far off — that there really was more than one like Sunghoon, not just in your town, but in your campus.

— iv

“It’s done,” Sunghoon muttered as he re-entered the dining hall of their loft. Jake turned to him, catching a glimpse of the man slumped near the sofa in the other room before the door completely closed behind Sunghoon, “he should remember nothing about tonight except just how wasted he was.”

“Good work Sunghoon,” Heeseung nodded as he massaged his temples and checked his phone for the umpteenth time for updates, “I’ve had the victims already sent to two different hospitals too. There should already be someone there ready for to do all the necessary cover-ups so the accident tonight shouldn’t cause too much ruckus with the elders.”

“Good thing I was making out just outside of the Grand Hall isn’t it? Otherwise someone else would have found the bodies,” Jay wiggled his brows, looking proud.

“Well for someone who was near the vicinity, it really is a wonder how far gone you were with the girl you were snogging with to have missed out a stray vampire feeding on two students nearby,” Jake scoffed, shaking his head dismissively as he nudged Sunghoon, beckoning him to agree with him. Sunghoon just gave him a cursory glance, looking every bit as disinterested and indifferent as ever as if he, too, wasn’t liplocking around the time it happened.

“What if this stray vampire is the one responsible for the chaos earlier?” Heeseung asked aloud, tapping the edge of his phone against the marble countertop, “did anyone have a good idea of what actually happened earlier? I was too busy buttering up the Board of Directors.”

Feigning ignorance, Sunghoon just casually shrug, despite knowing very well who had sparked the whole chaos earlier: you. Unlike what is popularly depicted in the media, vampires aren’t really like sharks but some do have a keen sense of smell when it comes to blood especially if it is the blood that they are very well familiar with. This is the case of you to Sunghoon who, having dawned it himself, could smell it when you had hurt yourself earlier. Though in hindsight he could now see how foolish and rash he had been to be easily baited like that. Not that he wanted to divulge all that to the rest though, especially not to Heeseung.

“Regardless of what happened in the Grand Hall, I think we have another one in our midst,” Sunghoon smoothly changed the subject, “I doubt it’s a pureblood though – we’d have sensed them otherwise and the way he or she just leaves the bitten body like that is too amateur and sloppy to be one of us.”

Heeseung nodded grimly, “that’s one heck of a skilled ‘unnatural’ then – to be able to evade us for so long.” ‘Unnatural’ is what they used to refer to human-turned-vampires. Not that the term is anymore less condescending than the non-Pure Bloods that some would refer them as.

“Leave that to me, I’ll try to find out more about it. Skilled or not, we are still much more superior and powerful than they are,” Sunghoon offered though his intentions in finding the culprit differed from the rest. Heeseung gave him a brief appreciative smile before retiring to the drawing room to answer a call.

“We’re done here right?” Sunghoon asked, turning to the other two, “let’s crash a party.”

Jay and Jake turned to each other in confusion but gladly complied nevertheless since they loved having fun and loved nothing more than roping the most reclusive one of them, Sunghoon, to get wild with them. The party that Jay took them to tonight wasn’t just any frat party either – it was some upscale party at the city – filled with the hottest and wealthiest people from the upper echelons of society including those of their own kind.

“Feeling the burn again?” Jake asked quietly as they entered the lofty mansion.

“Weirdly, no,” Sunghoon replied, surprised at his own answer. Jake’s words from weeks ago suddenly ringing hard in his ears, realizing now how it was you who had effectively quelled the burn that had plagued him tonight. Though he didn’t really know which one did it: the blood or the kiss since he did both tonight. Not that he wanted to ponder about it though. Tonight, he wanted a distraction.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to become preoccupied, getting roped into one of the empty bedrooms no sooner than 10 minutes being in the mansion. By the hottest woman in the party too, no less, who also happens to be of their kind. It was perfect – it should be. After all, she’s hot and someone of his own would understand and withstand his needs the most with no need of him to restrain himself like he would on mere mortals. He remembered finding her hot too as she seductively run up her red-lacquered nails up his chest, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt while her short red dress hiked up dangerously high as she straddled him. Her lips quickly molded with his and the whole thing quickly turned into a messy make-out session that quickly escalated. It was going so well.

Except not really.

Because instead of getting delirious and high in the throes of such heat, his mind was constantly straying away from the moment, finding its way back towards you. As if branded, you were etched in his mind and he hated that. He was supposed to be the one toying you and the one etched onto your mind to the point of insanity. Yet here he was, being the one who is gravely bothered and troubled in a game that he himself had spun.

He really thought he got it all under control but clearly, if anyone is losing control, it has been him. The signs had been there all along but classic Park Sunghoon just never wanted to deal with it and now look at the way it festered. He went from watching you as if you were an experiment to keeping such a close watch and tabs on you almost protectively and possessively, as if you were his in the first place.

Then there’s the jealousy that he felt whenever he sees you with either Sunoo or Jungwon. Initially he thought the feeling and desire to get rid of them was simply borne out of wanting to eliminate hurdles along the way and subsequently isolate you. That was indeed probably what it was initially, but slowly the desire becomes tainted with a more emotionally-driven interest – the desire to be them – the be the one receiving all the smiles, the gentle touches and spend an inordinate time with you. The next thing he knew, you have taken root in his mind, growing so entrenched as if you were the one spinning some sort of web in the first place, and not him. You end up haunting him not just in his waking moments, which was torturous enough considering how he doesn’t really sleep, but even in moments when he was in the midst of reaching his highs with other women.

Even now, as he flipped the lady over for another round, even as she was screaming his name loud – all he could see, hear and feel was you. The way you called his name, whether softly or bitterly; the plumpness of your lips; the warmth of your neck; the curvature of your waist; the way you fit perfectly in his embrace as if you were made for him. Fuck, he cussed to himself again. Deep down, he found himself desperately wishing that it was you he was touching, it was you who was holding onto him, it was you that was begging for him.

Buried within those lecherous thoughts however lay something more innocent. Something he doesn’t dare nor wish to ponder: how he wanted you to not detest him. How he wished that you had a fraction of positive feeling for him instead of just the vehemence that you always showed.

By the time he was done, he was already putting his clothes back on, foot already out the door. If problems can’t be solved, he thought to himself on his drive back home, pressing the pedal to dangerous speeds, I should eliminate it altogether.

Afterall, he reasoned further, I can’t yearn for something that isn’t there.

— v.

“The Head of Security bumped into me on the way and is now treating me to coffee so I’ll be a bit late but I’ve already authorised my credentials earlier so just go ahead and log into my PC with the log-in details I’ve shared,” Jungwon explained through the phone as you settled inside the staff room in the library, switching on the PC there while thanking him profusely for the umpteenth time, “thank you so much Jungwon. You know what, I owe you big time. I’ll treat you to a meal next time alright? Anything you want, just say it.”

It was just this morning when you asked him for a favour to view the CCTV in campus, hoping to get your hands on the evidence of whatever transpired last night before it gets wiped out. Always so benevolent and dependable, Jungwon agreed almost immediately without pestering you about the reasons even when getting himself authorised required him sneaking about and accessing the main system discreetly over at the main wing. While sometimes you do feel uncomfortable at just how far he is willing to go for you so selflessly, he has always had a reputation for being obliging and dependable so you always chalk your cynicism to irrational paranoia instead.

Being proficient in IT yourself, it didn’t take you long to figure out how to navigate the system once you’ve logged in, after which you began identifying the specific CCTV angles that could trace Sunghoon’s possible steps. “Got you,” you murmured to yourself, grinning triumphantly as you found him in CCTV #81, which was around the area where Sunghoon was lounging about just minutes before the whole chaos ensued. As you expected, at one point in time, unlike everyone else, Sunghoon’s head suddenly snapped upwards, right towards the area where you were and within seconds after the lights went out, he vanished.

You switched the angle to the other one – the CCTV near the staircase where you were at – which somehow ‘conveniently’ glitched just moments before he suddenly appeared behind you. You watched in anticipation as he roughly shoved you against the wall, expectations shot through the roof as you remembered purposefully riling him up right there and then because you wanted to incite the worse in him and get it filmed. It was risky but you thought, if it was the only way to get him to reveal more of the kind of monster he was, it would be worth it. Except, the more you watched, the more dismayed you were. With his back facing the CCTV, you were entirely engulfed by his figure – the angle of which was completely concealing the struggle that transpired between you two – making it look as if you two were heatedly making out in the dark instead.

You rewinded the clip again, trying to find an instance that could have implied otherwise. None, you thought to yourself, sinking in your seat in utter dejection as you realised none of it was usable – leaving you only with that clip of him vanishing but that could easily be taken as some sort of glitch as well.  

Who’s easy now?  You remembered him saying that again, realising now just how double-laced those words really were and calculated his actions were. The hall was indeed too public so he knew ravishing you right there and then could get him exposed. So he decided to do it under the guise of a kiss – the least suspicious yet the most vexing way to get back at you – essentially delivering a double-blow to you. Or triple rather, since he fumbled your plan with the CCTV as well, maybe he figured the angles out too. You scoffed, feeling defeated. At this rate, it did not feel like you were trying to beat him in his game but it felt more like you were waltzing with the devil to a tune that only he knows the beat of.

Just as your eyes scanned all the other CCTV angles cursorily, the angle near the back exit caught your attention. It had the same statue as the one Sunoo captured in his phone, near where a man was seen suddenly disappearing. You enlarged the clip, zeroing in on the guy which is probably the guy in question, who walked past the statue while trying to wear his coat, looking as if he was just about to exit through the double doors when suddenly he turned around, head snapping upwards towards the direction of where you should be, just a few seconds before the lights flickered and went off. Then to your horror, he too, like Sunghoon, vanished.

You gasped as you zoomed in the clip to identify who he was though the graininess and blurriness of the clip due to the distance and the night vision was making it almost impossible. It didn’t help that you could only see his face for some 5 seconds before he disappeared. Amidst the graininess however, his eyes had that eerie tapetum lucidum glow which is common among nocturnal predators – the same glow you remembered seeing in the maniac who had attacked you in the alleyway as well as in campus. In fact his eyes glowed so much that it was almost similar the reflective stripes he had on the shoulder of his jackets, which you swore you’ve seen somewhere.

“Sorry, I took too long. Did you managed to find the clip you were looking for?”

You jumped, startled, turning around to see Jungwon beaming softly at you as he took his cap off and unzipped his jacket.

“No worries. I was just trying to figure out how to make the resolution better-“ your voice trailed off as you watched Jungwon turned around to take his waterproof Security jacket off and hang it on a nearby coathanger. The stripes, you stared in apprehension as you recognised it to be the same with the man in the camera – two stripes on each shoulders, both reflective.

“Hey, Jungwon? Did you bring that jacket with you yesterday to the Ball?” you asked carefully as you rose up, alert. He hummed in affirmation, “yeah, I changed in campus so the jacket was all I had to protect me from the sudden snow – why?”

“Nothing,” you plastered a smile as you grabbed your phone from the table, raking your brains for excuses to leave the room, “Oh, it’s getting late. I should head back soon, someone is waiting for me.”

You noticed the way his grin faltered, as if noticing something amiss, “so soon?” he asked, craning his neck, trying to peek at the screen behind you, “is that yesterday? anything interesting?”

“Oh nothing, I just lost my money and wanted to see if someone had took it from my purse but apparently not. I guess I must have misplaced them-” you turned around abruptly, about to close the window which showed CCTV angle you had enlarged earlier when suddenly you felt his hand over yours on the mouse, stopping you from doing so. You swallowed thickly as you felt his chest pressing against your back, feeling trapped between him and the table.

“You sure about that? Because you’re obviously zooming on someone else,” he muttered in a low voice before whispering raspily against your ear, “I guess I should drop the façade now.”

You jerked away from him, horrified, as it dawned on you immediately how his whispering voice was similar to that of the man who had pushed you down the stairs in the South Wing. You teetered backwards in terror – now realising, with his back against the light, how he bears so much resemblance to the man: the tapered chin, the bony wide shoulders, and the thin-lipped murderous grin. You wasted no second then, turning around and running for the door but Jungwon was quicker as he slammed the door back shut just as you opened it, “too slow,” he whispered before you suddenly feel yourself getting yanked and flung to the side, pillowing against a stack of empty boxes at the corner.

You groaned as you mustered all your strength to sit up – not that it would have mattered though for he had climbed on top of you and straddled you in place within seconds, “It was fun while it lasted-“

You feel your heart sink as you watch his face contort almost effortlessly into a wicked expression as if that could have been his resting face. His gaze, which always somehow lent you some form of comfort, was now glazed with malice. His lips which always curved sweetly like a form of reassurance was now all twisted devilishly. You realised then just how trapped and silly you have been – essentially jumping out of the frying pan into the fire – thinking you were safe with Jungwon, only for him to be as much of a hazard as Sunghoon. 

“You’re—” you croaked, feeling the dread and trepidation rising as you saw the way his canines fully erupt into razor-sharp fangs now, “what have I ever done to you? Why are you doing this?”

“Initially, you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time…” he drawled as he brought his hand up to your face, finger tracing your jawline agonisingly slowly, “then I found out about your relations with Sunghoon and the power I seemingly have over him whenever you’re with me –“

“What are you saying?! We’re not together—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he growled, the grin faltering, “if it weren’t for wanting you all to himself, I wouldn’t have been left nearly bloodless by an alley, only to be picked up by some other freaks like him and turned into one-“ he heaved an exasperated sigh, hands clenching in frustration, “—doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t turn back the time and I can’t really beat him so-“ he grabbed your collar, tugging it to reveal your neck, eyes glazed in what looked like hunger, “I’ll just hurt him where it hurts the most.”

You feel your heart quicken, hand discreetly slipping into your pocket, grasping the swiss army knife which you had decided to carry along at the last minute earlier. “You’re mistaken, I am nothing to him,” you jabbered, trying to distract him and find the right time to attack him, “he hates me and if you kill me, you’re just doing the dirty work for him.”

“Stop lying,” he chastised, his hand fisting your collar, “he was the one who saved you that time when I almost killed you and yesterday too – ah fuck, if he hadn’t caught up to you, I swear you’d be shreds.”

Sunghoon what? You thought to yourself, eyes shaky in utter disbelief and confusion but as your time was ticking, you had more urgent things to worry about. With the way Jungwon had been bitterly talking about Sunghoon so far, you figured you could use that against him so you lied, “then you should know that Sunghoon is the one I am supposed to be meeting and since I’m not there, he’s probably heading here – you’re going to be the one torn to shreds Jungwon.“

He chucked devilishly as he wrapped his hand over your neck, using his thumb to strain it sideward for a better angle, “well I’ve got to hurry then…” his expressions darkened, “Look at that—your mark is still there. I knew it looked familiar. Well, I should bite you over here too then – that would drive your Sunghoon completely off the rails to see his toy got permanently re-marked and killed in such a way-“

“no you wont-“ you hissed as you drove the swiss knife onto his upper arm with as much strength as you could muster, causing him to back up in pain, groaning and muttering expletives. You took the opportunity to kick him off, scrambling quickly back to your feet though the victory was short-lived as he lunged towards you, knocking you down again. “Playtime’s over,” he growled, dragging you back and yanking your shirt off your shoulders aggressively before dipping his head onto the crook of your neck, sending you thrashing harder under his weight as he lapped on a particular spot on your neck.

“Fuck you, get off me, get the fuck off me-“ you protested but his hands around your neck only tightened, constricting your airways and your screams, as you feel the tip of his fangs press onto your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the worse. The next thing you knew however, the weight and pressure was lifted, and air rushed into your lungs so suddenly and rapidly, that you were reduced to a coughing mess. You could hear struggles and scuffles in the background followed by the sound of furniture toppling and glass breaking from the other end of the room.

Then silence.

Clambering back up to your feet, you stared in horror at the state of the room with files and furnitures toppled and a large broken window right at the corner, as if someone just ran through it, before you realise, as your eyes travelled down, legs peeking out from behind the shelves that concealed the area, seemingly motionless and covered in glass shards. Almost on auto-pilot, you hobbled towards the person – dread and trepidation rising at the thought that the person, who had saved you, might have been gravely hurt. Or worse, killed. Jungwon is after all a vampire with a body count.

As you rounded the corner, to your surprise, slumped against the wall on the floor, with shards of broken glass all over was Sunghoon – head thrown back, eyes shut, with a darkened patch on his shirt over the chest area. Realising how it was blood, you immediately flung towards him, any hatred you felt for him dissipating as panic seized you, “hey-“ you shook him, your hand almost recoiling at how cold he was to the touch, “Sunghoon, wake up- hey wake up-“

“I’m not dead yet,” you hear him mumble weakly, eyes opening to mere slits – the golden irises peeking through. You fell back in relief, exhaling sharply, “– that's a relief.”

He scoffed weakly, “you’re going to regret that and wished I was instead.”

“Shut up,” you reprimanded as you knelt beside him, dusting the shards of glass off of him as your eyes scanned around the room for something that could have stymie his bleeding. You grabbed a table cloth nearby, balling it, as you turned back to face him – alarmed at the way the patch had grown. "You're–" you pressed the cloth onto his chest, seeing it get rapidly soaked up, "– profusely bleeding. Aren't you supposed to be invincible?"

"I'm fine," he mustered but you weren't convinced at all and quickly you used your free hand to fish your phone out, about to dial the emergency services for help when you hear him groan weakly as he readjusted himself against the wall behind him, “no need to call for help- just go…”

“Go? Are you crazy?” you protested, scooting closer instead to apply more pressure, “what if you die?”

You watched in confusion as his hand slowly crept up your hand that was holding the cloth, his fingers lacing yours from the back of your hand, “I won’t die easily,” he muttered, bringing your hand close to your lips, as his eyes glowed brighter which you now understood like some sort of telltale sign of hunger or anger, “but you, y/n, will, if you stay any longer around me.”

You noticed then that there was blood dripping by the side of your palm to which Sunghoon suddenly licked. You flinched, not just from the action, but from the stinging pain, only realising then that you had unknowingly injured yourself, probably from the glass shards you were dusting off earlier, “do you see the predicament you are in right now y/n?”

You swallowed thickly, trying to look unaffected even as your heartbeat started picking up, “not until you get help Sunghoon. Just tell me who to call then if not emergency services—" 

Suddenly he lunged towards you, toppling you over with ease, completely dwarfing you, “look, I think you’re mistaken,” he huffed, eyes flitting to your neck and you swore you could see murder in his eyes and it was all quickly engulfing you in a paralyzing sense of déjà vu to that evening when he bit you, “I didn’t save you out of some noble reason. I did it simply because you’re my meal and I won’t let anyone else ravish you.”

You breathing became increasingly laboured the longer you stared into his piercing eyes – almost as if he was doing something to your mind, conjuring the worst of memories, inciting the worst of emotions – as he prodded on, “Also, you’re my prey so no one else get to lay a hand on you even if that would have made my life easier.”

He suddenly backed up slightly, giving you enough space and chance to run away, “I love some cat and mouse game so I’d rather catch you when I’m at my best,” he brushed his hair back, brows raised threateningly, “so you better run now before I regain my full strength.”

You propped yourself back up groggily, eyes locking into his as if trying to probe the depth of his mind, as if not wanting to believe the sadistic things he has been sprouting, as if wanting to believe that he really had saved you for noble reasons and not for whatever possessive and obsessive bullshit he had been sprouting.

“I said... run!” he repeated, this time, more domineeringly and that somehow did it for you. As if a switch had been turned inside of you, your body assumed a life of its own, powering through self-preservation as you recoiled from him and made a run for the door. Everything after that was a blur — potentially distorted through a series of heightened fear, adrenaline, intense pain and disjointed confusion. All you could remember was running out of the library, out of the wing, out of the compound — not stopping once until your legs buckled from exhaustion by the side of a bus stop, landing hardly against the tarmac floor. The cut where he had licked now oozed even more blood, dripping onto the concrete floor – as if mirroring the way your mental state was fraying.

— vi.

You hardly left your home throughout Winter Break, coming up with all sorts of excuses not to join Sunoo in the library when it would have usually been the other way around – with you egging him to join you since exams were just around the corner. Eventually the new semester rolled in and fortunately or rather, miraculously, you have yet to bump into Sunghoon even now that you were entering your 2nd week. You could see his name in the registrar sometimes and even saw his clique but he was never around. The image of him bleeding out on the floor continuously burnt at the back of your mind – like guilt haunting you excruciatingly with every day he is absent, redirecting your mind quickly to the worst scenario possible.

But that isn’t possible, is it?

After all, he is a vampire – a being that is supposed to have superhuman powers and regenerative abilities that wouldn’t just die from what look like a stab wound on the chest. But then again, you would find yourself wondering sometimes much to your consternation, if that isn’t the case then where is he?

Jungwon, too, had disappeared. The official word is that he had moved abroad after being offered a prestigious scholarship though you doubt there is any truth in that. After what he did to Sunghoon, it is just possible that Sunghoon had him killed. Or worse, he could just be yet another pawn in Sunghoon’s grand scheme of things – used to torment you and then paint himself as the white knight.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

You hummed in affirmation though your affable smile faltered as you turned and looked at who it was – Jake Sim. You swallowed thickly, eyes wandering wildly for any signs of Sunghoon. Thankfully, it was just him. “You’re… alone?” you couldn’t help but ask. He nodded, sporting his usual radiant and infectious smile, “the rest aren’t joining this module – none of them are a fan of this much math.”

“Sunghoon too?” you asked before internally cussing at how loose-lipped you suddenly became, almost as your lips had begun to have a life of its own. Thankfully, Jake thought nothing of it, just shaking his head as he took out his iPad, looking over his notes, “nah, he is in this with me but he’s just a bit under the weather lately.”

You straightened up in your seat, suddenly wary as the image of him bleeding out replay again and again in your mind like a broken tape, “he’s… he’s not hurt is he?”

“Nah,” Jake reassured, beaming widely, “don’t worry about it.”

You opened your mouth, wanting to prod more out of guilt, but closed it immediately, realising how you shouldn’t worry for someone who should have been the enemy. Thankfully, the lecturer entered just in time, preventing you from engaging in anymore meaningless chatter with Jake.

Life continued on peacefully for another week and gradually you have started to loosen up – no longer jolting to every sound, no longer looking over your shoulder abruptly and no longer on a vigilant lookout for danger when you were in a crowd.

But troubles soon brew within your own circle.

“No, I’m serious, it’s legitimate!” Sunoo sighed exasperatedly, the frustration evident on his face and strained voice as he paced haphazardly in front of you and Ni-Ki, “I don’t know the exact connections they have to the cases, but they were wrought in it for sure.”

You handed back his file, which had now been filled with sightings report and pictures of Sunghoon and clique, trying to feign disinterest and nonchalance though your heart was drumming against your chest. “Sunoo, the culprit has been caught. There’s nothing we can do–” you looked away from him, shifting your attention back to your work as you feared that you might crack if you look any longer into Sunoo’s pleading eyes, “–unless you get more concrete evidence like I don’t know, them dragging a dead body or something.”

Ni-Ki nodded, leaning back against his seat unconcernedly, “yeah and come on this is Heeseung and his friends you’re suspecting – you need more than evidence to take them down.”

Sunoo scoffed, looking completely dejected and betrayed as he looked from Ni-Ki to you. You felt your heart sank when you met his eyes which was glinting with sadness and what looked like betrayal as he backed away, “Fine. I’ll just pursue this on my own then. Apparently two of my closest friends don’t have enough backbone to fight the status quo nor enough loyalty to support me.”

“Sunoo-“ you called out, hopping off your chair to go after him but Ni-Ki grabbed you by the wrist, stopping you, “he’s in an emotional doldrum right now and no amount of reason could get through that y/n. You might just get into a bigger fight with him if you continue.”

You sighed weakly, agreeing, looking forlornly at the swinging door that he had stormed off through – the guilt was gnawing inside of you. This would have been the perfect time to divulge what you knew about Sunghoon to Sunoo and perhaps devise a plan to get him now that you knew the truth about him and his potential weakness. But instead of doing just that, you lied to your own bestfriend and covered for the enemy for reasons you never dared to ponder about.

You tried to reassure yourself that night that this was just one of Sunoo's momentary outbursts – that he will come around, as he always does. He was after all one of the most non-egotistical and selfless person you have ever known – essentially the personification of sunshine. So it really boggled and worried you to see Sunoo adamantly still seething towards you and Ni-Ki even after a few days, ignoring you both very blatantly – especially you, as if you betrayed him.

But then again, had he known the truth you have been withholding, he wasn’t wrong. It would constitute a betrayal. Though you honestly don’t know who you were doing it for. You knew on one hand you were doing it to protect Sunoo. After all, he used to be a sickly kid whose condition can deteriorate rapidly even with the slightest ailment or injury. Hence knowing the kind of danger Sunghoon poses, you couldn’t help but be paternalistic over him. On the other hand, perhaps your boggling actions also stemmed from wanting to call it even with Sunghoon who has, after all, saved you numerous times. You understood very well that, as he asserted, he hadn’t saved you for noble reasons but still saving is saving, without his actions of which, you would have long been dead. 

That evening however, as you were getting lulled into a sleeping state, your phone rang. You were going to just ignore it as it was midnight but with Sunoo on the caller ID, you immediately answered it, falling off the couch in panic, “Sunoo, I-“

“Hey calm down-,” he shushed you, “I told you I’ll get evidence.”

“What do you mean?” you asked warily, already getting an inkling that he was up to no good.

“Well, I’m loitering around in their hang-out place now and guess what? They have a secret door leading out to the basement-“

“Kim Sunoo!” you gasped, trying to reorient yourself as you were still groggy from the nap. You grabbed your coat, foot already at the door within seconds, fumbling with your keys, “you better step out of there now! What if they find you?”

“Well, they have no business having a whole ass secret basement in the first place. They should explain that to me first before anything,” he reasoned sassily, “also, don’t worry. My sources told me that they’re currently at a party in the neighbouring town so you know, this is place is free real estate right now.’

“Sunoo don’t-“ you sighed, stopping yourself, fearing that reprimanding him further will just make him distance himself again. “I’ll go with you then okay?” you lied, already shuffling past the hallways and out of your accommodation block, “Can you just get out of there now please? Wait for me in the courtyard or something. We’ll venture in together then. You said it yourself, I’m smart and two heads are better than one so–”

“Really?" he gasped. You can almost hear his signature smile from his tone as he cheerily agreed, "You’re the best- all right, I’ll go out now."

Except, after 15 minutes of waiting for him by the courtyard, he failed to show up nor pick up his calls, making you antsy. Fearing the worst, you headed to campus, marching towards the Wing where their hangout room was. You begrudgingly approached the huge door that lay at the end of the hallway, which was already ajar. The door, designed in a Gothic Architectural style, was imposing with huge columns on either side, gargoyles on top, intricate carvings on the arch and a golden wolf knocker by the center of the door, completing the grimness of it, as if blatantly warning of the danger that would befall the fools who dare to trespass. In fact, no one had actually been in the room except for the guys themselves so again, rumours are abound of what lay behind the massive door. But none of that mattered now – you needed to get to Sunoo, fast.

You held your breath as you push the door slightly, just enough to slip yourself in. You had to quell the gasp that automatically arose in you as you ventured further into the room – a massive, gothic architecture, common room that seemed more fitting for societies and clubs than just for some group of 4 rich kids to hang around in.

Despite the vaulted ceilings and tall windows, the room was grim and dark thanks to its monochromatic grey walls and furniture with the only splash of colour being from the curtains and rugs, of which were in hunter green; coat of arms, similar to what Sunghoon wore on his lapel during the Ball, of which featured a ruby gem in the centre; and an array of paintings – all of which had dark colour palettes and feature grim images that rhymes with death, despair, desolation, you name it.

You looked around frantically for any sign of door or staircase but all you see are windows, walls, arches and bookcases, wondering how in the world had Sunoo gotten to the basement. Reminded of the secret passage in the library, it occurred to you that perhaps the entrance is hidden.

As you looked around specifically for something out of place, your eyes couldn’t help but return to the tall bookcase in the corner. You approached it, eying every spot carefully and touching anything that looked remotely out of place before your eyes settled on a rather conspicuous book with navy blue spine and nothing but the symbol ' ; ' on it – an embossing that somehow bear resemblance to a bite mark. You tugged on it, wanting to see what kind of book it was when suddenly as you pulled it to a certain angle, the book case shifted, swinging halfway to reveal a winding staircase.

The staircase was anything but welcoming but you went down anyway with Sunoo in the forefront of your mind. Unlike the dark and sombre common room upstairs, the basement, still in gothic architecture was more brightly-lit but still barren and cold, resembling grimly more like a crypt. You looked around the maze-like crypt, firing off multiple texts to Sunoo to enquire on his whereabouts. Your ears soon perked up when you heard his notification sound softly echoing, seemingly coming from the other side. You followed the passage way, finding a door laying by the end as you round the bend, with muffled voices becoming increasingly audible as you get closer. You carefully positioned yourself behind the door, which was already ajar, holding your breath as you carefully tried to peak through the space. You hand immediately flew to your mouth, stifling the gasps that you almost let out, as you saw Sunoo laying unconscious on the floor.

“He should have heeded our warning—” you heard a familiar voice – the owner of which suddenly appearing into your field of vision, crouching down by Sunoo, inspecting the papers strewn next to his body. It was Heeseung. You gulped, positioning your phone in between the gaps carefully to record the scene in case anything happen. You listened to him continue to say something to someone else in the room, “—we’ve been delaying it too much. It’s time to get rid of him.”

You swallowed thickly, your hands shaking as you carefully edge your phone, trying to capture the other side of the room where the other man he was talking to were. Your breath suddenly hitched when you caught the man in your viewfinder – it was Sunghoon, whose attention suddenly then flitted from Sunoo to the door, as if detecting your presence. You immediately recoiled, holding your phone straight to your chest – fervently hoping that you hadn’t been caught.

“What is it?” you heard Heeseung asked, to which Sunghoon fortunately just shook his head to, “it’s nothing.”

Shit shit shit, you cussed in your head, the possibility of Heeseung also being a vampire now dawning in your mind – along with the rest of clique, Jake and Jay, who also frequents this room. It was only now, in hindsight, was it all falling well into place: the way some are part of the Student Union and therefore, Student Patrols; the way Heeseung was adamant in stopping Sunoo’s investigation; the way Heeseung warned you not to tell anyone of your attack in campus. Only now you realised that there was a reason why these lads were shrouded in so much secrecy and mystery in the first place – with an air that is difficult to place surrounding them, straddling somewhere between hypnotising allure and sinisterness.

You raked your brain for what to do next. Sunoo was lying unconscious in the hands of people who would be more than capable and ready to kill him. Yet if you barge in, you can’t save him either and the incriminating evidence you have as well as the knowledge of their true selves, would just die with you. Quickly you sent the video off to Ni-Ki along with a quick text on where you are, asking him to come quick, only to be hit by a notification that there were no service. Shit, you cussed again internally, deciding to hurry back to where you came from to get service, promising Sunoo in your head that you will definitely come back for him.

Except as you turned the bend, a figure materialised right before you. You gasped, teetering backwards. It was Sunghoon – his head tilted in such a condescending way, “Not sure if I should commend your bravery or foolishness for walking into the tiger’s den willingly like this.”

You were about to open your mouth to protest but found yourself shoved into a nearby room in a flash – a small reading room of some sort. “Stay back you psycho,” you hissed, backing away and maintaining the distance.

“Well you should have run when you could have. Should have snitched when you could have. Too late now is it?” he sneered, blocking the only exit in the room.

“Let Sunoo go,” you demanded, trying to mask the trepidation rising within. He scoffed disdainfully. He never actually planned to hurt Sunoo but he played along anyway, totally enjoying the power he has over you whenever Sunoo enters the equation, "he did trespass where he shouldn't have, you know."

"He didn't mean to. He's probably just curious like everybody else about what lies behind your lofty door," you tried to reason. He raised both brows, sarcastically feigning surprise and interest, "Oh? is that why we found some of our documents and a bunch of pictures in his bag? Just curiousity?"

"I'll get him to apologize," you offered, pleading almost, "or you know what, I'll apologize on behalf of him. I'll even get on my knees–"

"y/n, stop–" he rolled his eyes, "apologies and kneeling down may feed the egos and pride of humans but they mean nothing to my kind – not me at least and definitely not when it comes from a mere mortal."

"There is no such thing as free lunch," you blurted, stopping him as he was about to exit the room, "you quoted that aphorism to me remember? then I'll make you a deal in exchange of letting Sunoo go, unharmed."

He approached you at a glacial pace, the fireplace nearby casting his shadow ominously behind him, making him loom larger than usual, “and what could you ever offer that I possibly don’t and can’t have?”

“My blood.”

A quick twitch of the brow and slight tipping of the corner of his lips flashed almost imperceptibly across his inscrutable face, the interest and desire cracking through unwittingly. “Are you offering yourself as a bloodbag for him? How noble,” he scoffed, “and disgusting – what are you two, Romeo and Juliet?”

“Aren’t you being too mouthy for someone in need?”

“Back to you. I’m holding both you and your beloved Sunoo’s life in my hands and you’re still acting up?” he suddenly lunged towards you, shoving you against the cold wall. Though in the heat of emotions, he had failed to see that you had quickly grabbed the swiss army knife from the pocket of your jacket, flipped it open and now, just as his hands were wrapped around your neck, threatening to choke you, your knife was already pointing dangerously on his chest, threatening to re-puncture him where he was injured. His brows shot up, a grin of disbelief tugging on his lips – both amazed and vexed by your fast reflex and unrelenting defiance, “nice effort but that puny knife won’t do jackshit on me-“

His grin faltered as your expressions moulded into that of mocking delight, “sure about that?”

He looked down in a horrifying realisation that instead of puncturing him, you had turned the knife, grasping it by the blade instead, the blood now dripping onto his shoes, the scent of which was quickly engulfing his senses. When his eyes flitted back to yours, it was already golden and his canines were already elongating into full fangs. That was all you needed, “well, seems like I have the upper hand.”

He snarled, his hand tightening over your neck, like a snake constricting its prey before swallowing them whole, eyes narrowing murderously at you, “you know I can just kill you and drain the life out of you right?”

“Yes, but you never did. What's really stopping you?” you gritted your teeth, feeling the pressure suffocating you. Just when you felt the air almost knocked out of your lungs, he released you. You fell onto the hard ground, hunched up, violently grasping for air.

"Just because I haven't doesn't mean I won't. I like to saviour my meals," he crouched down in front of you. You stared back into his tantalizing stare through eyes that were still wet from your coughing fit, “your eyes are already glowing, I don't think you have the luxury for mind games right now. I meant what I said – leave Sunoo the fuck alone.”

The way you offered yourself was everything he had schemed for – even better than forcefully taking it away from you. After all, for someone rebellious and iconoclastic like you, giving yourself up like that is probably equivalent to stomping on your pride. This was exactly the kind that would feed his ego. At the same time, he also hated it. He hated how you were so willing to give yourself up just for that weakling Sunoo even when he wasn’t going to hurt him in the first place.

He wanted so bad to not yield in, to toy you further in the way that best butter up his inflated sense of self. But most of all, sillily, he wanted you to give in to him for him not for anyone else’s sake.

But you were right, he doesn’t have the luxury to hold on to his pride, not at the moment at least, when the scent of your blood was slowly engulfing his senses and tainting every bit of rationality he had left. It didn’t help that he hadn’t been feasting on live blood either which in turn slowed down the healing of his injuries – all of which just made your blood all the more enticing and irresistible. He grabbed your chin harshly, jerking your face upwards towards him, “Fine. I’ll take your offer but there would be no resisting and no excuses. If I want it, I’ll get it.”

You narrowed your eyes, grimacing at the thought, but you swallowed you pride, “only if you promise to get my consent first and not drain me lifeless.”

You know the fragility of words and promises but if there is anything you learnt from him is that he seemed to hold himself to such high dignified and noble standards that something as simple as breaking a promise would have been a blow to his pride. You thought too, perhaps it’s the chase that he was obsessed with – which you think would best be countered with perhaps, not outwitting and one-upping him, but rather, cutting the chase abruptly. If the chase is what drives him high, then your prickliness and defiance would just be feeding him – like an unending Waltz. Thus you figured that you needed to end his chase, even if your pride is on the line.

“You’re awfully demanding,” his hand slowly crept down your neck, his fingers wrapping over the back of it, “your blood is the same as everyone else’s don’t you know that? It’s highly substitutable.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” you mocked.

“Fine,” he muttered resentfully, eyes already trained on a spot on your neck, about to launch forward to you when you stopped him, “not my neck,” you raised your hand towards him, “until you free Sunoo, you’re not getting it from where you want. That’s part of the deal remember? Consent?”

He scoffed. Sunghoon should have hated this. The way you’ve played him instead of the other way around but just like Jake said, so intricate had he weaved his webs for you, he couldn’t help but be ensnared in it as well. In fact, at this rate, it just seems like he’s the one getting ensnared deeper. Had you been just anyone else, he would have just lunged towards you, draining you in the vilest way he could. Unfortunately for him, you weren't just anyone else. You have become a someone. Someone who has struck a chord in him in ways that managed to stop himself from fully succumbing to his animalistic senses, to hold onto any last shred of rationality and sense even when it's hanging by a thread.

Begrudgingly, he silently complied, yanking your hand indiginantly, his fingers lacing over yours through the back of your hand like talons. Your shoulders tensed up as he brought your hand towards his lips, wincing when you felt his cold tongue brushing past the wound before he started sucking on it. You swallowed thickly at the sight, increasingly unnerved, as you watched him shut his eyes, his brows knitting in pleasure, his adam’s apple bobbing rapidly.

“That’s-“ you stuttered, starting to feel lightheaded after a few minutes, “that’s enough.”

His lids fluttered open, the golden irises peeking through almost ominously. He lifted his head slightly, a smirk already adorning his lips reflecting some sort of satisfaction and conceit, his tongue making a quick swipe over his blood-stained lips, “you think that was enough?”

The next thing you knew he had lunged towards you, toppling you down against the cold cement. With his large hand wrapped over the back of your neck, he titled your head awkwardly to the side as if readying your neck. You wedged an arm against him, trying to stop him from descending further, though with the crazed look in his eyes you wondered how long could you fend him for, “Park Sunghoon,” you protested, “you promised.”

He scoffed, prying your hand off of him easily, “ever heard of The Scorpion and The Frog fable?” he smirked, dipping his head onto the crook of your neck. You shuddered, feeling his hot breath against your skin, his lips ghosting just inches away. You feel his grip tightening and you squeezed your eyes shut, your hand clenching his shirt as if bracing yourself for the pain.

But the painful prick never came. Instead you feel his lips softly pressed over your skin before he started sucking on a particular spot in a gentler way, right over where your original bite mark was. “Gotcha,” he whispered and you jerked away from him, your fingers immediately feeling that spot – confused when you felt no puncture marks.

“Take that as a seal,” he backed up, eyes reverting to its normal colour.

It was only at home later you realised what he had meant when you saw the deep purple bruise on your neck – a harmless love bite – as his words repeated in your mind like some sort of siren song, “take that as a seal. A seal that you owe me. And when it fades – the original bite mark that remains underneath should remind you that I own you.”

— vii.

True to Sunghoon's words, Sunoo returned unharmed – having absolutely no recollection of venturing into Sunghoon’s lair and having little to no resolve any more in pursuing the case that he had been so obsessed about, something you were sure was also of Sunghoon’s doing.  

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was sparsely around. Months passed without him pestering you nor asking you for what you owe him – something you were grateful about. Perhaps, as you projected, all it took to extinguish his obsession with you was indeed to cut the chase because since then, he had stopped bothering you. Just as quick as the bruise on your neck faded, you figured, the deal would no longer matter to him. Eventually the bruise fade and seasons pass, leaving only the brown puncture marks on your neck which never fully disappeared, lingering now permanently like a birthmark.

As another semester rolled and ended, you soon approached graduation season. By then you were fully convinced that normalcy has indeed returned. Until, that is, you received a sudden text from Sunoo one night announcing that he was going to Sunghoon’s hang-out spot again. The panic that is reminiscent of that fateful night immediately engulfed you and when your calls returned unanswered and rejected, eventually, you hopped off bed and ran back to campus, bursting into Sunghoon’s lair.

The room felt so still and void with no sign of Sunoo so you figured that maybe he had ventured to the basement again so you made your way towards the bookshelf when someone broke the silence.

“Sunoo must really be your Achilles Heel,” Sunghoon appeared from the shadows before throwing a phone onto the couch near you. It was Sunoo’s phone.

“Where is he?” you demanded, “you promised me you wouldn’t-“

“And I didn’t,” he smirked, leaning against a column haughtily, “he’s safe and sound in his home. Just probably panicking over the fact that he can’t find his phone.”

“What?” you managed, still breathless from all the running, “So you tricked me?”

“How else can I get you to come to me,” he raised his brows, arms folded, “Anyway, I’ve held my part of the deal, it’s time for you to hold yours.”

You swallowed thickly. Of course you’d never back away from your promise, not when he has held his, but the way his voice dropped and his gaze darkened was unnerving you, making you feel as if you were walking up a guillotine for your head. “Of course,” you replied, feigning nonchalance, “you didn’t have to trick me with Sunoo, I’d have come to you either way. It’s a promise after all.”

“Oh really?” he walked up to you, his footsteps echoing ominously in the grim room as his eyes begin to lighten in colour – a transition you had seen countless times now but still managed to struck dread in you, “with the way your heart is racing, I doubt that y/n.”

You scoffed, “I ran all the way, of course it’s racing. I’m not you with your slow beating heart or dead heart – whatever it is.”

His brows shot up, slightly taken aback but amused nevertheless – your defiance and answer-backs have always been entertaining, even when it’s irksome, “glad you clarified, I would’ve mistaken it for you being flustered by me, if not intimidated.”

“Cut the chase Sunghoon,” you shot him down, offering your hand, “blood is blood right? it shouldn't matter where it comes from so can't you just make a tear here and take it from here instead of my neck?"

Eyes locked on yours, you can almost see a flicker of irritation in his golden eyes, as he trailed his hand up yours before he gripped it, yanking you close towards him while the other hand swiftly snaked around your back, enrapturing you with him. “are you trying to make discounts right now?” he glowered, his hold as string as iron, as he lowered his face down to yours, his breath hot on your ears, “your neck is where the prize is.”

You furrowed your brows, feeling the hair at the back of your neck stood up. “Fine,” you scowled, “then do it fast, I can’t stand being so close to you.”

“Doesn’t sound like my problem,” he smirked as he suddenly hoisted you up the piano so you’ll be near eye-level with him. "What are yo-" you complained, completely taken aback, your hands fisting his clothes.

“aren’t you going to bare your neck for me?” he eyed your button up, “or you want me to rip it open for you instead?”

“Fuck you,” you spat, begrudgingly unbuttoning your top buttons, staring back at those eyes which were growing luminous by the second as if reflecting the intensity of the hunger inside while his grin grew wider the more skin you exposed. His hand snaked further up your back as he dipped his head and bury it on the crook of your neck. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he muttered breathily against your neck as his other hand wrapped itself tightly over the back of your neck to tilt it slightly, already getting lulled by the warmth radiating from your body and your perfume which was deliciously and intoxicatingly blending with the scent of your blood. As his lips grazed your neck, he felt a spark of electricity – a hint of something more than just hunger.

You flinched when you suddenly felt his fangs puncture your skin – a prickle of pain which quickly diffuses as the weird feeling of haziness set in. Your breath hitched when you feel him bury himself deeper onto the crook of your neck, his nails digging onto your back as the taste of your blood engulfed all of his senses, igniting fire in his veins, setting it all ablaze. Feeling increasingly lulled, your hand automatically flew to his shoulders, holding onto him for support unwittingly.

Sunghoon could feel the hunger within him growing with every drop but perplexingly, the more he drank, the less satiating your blood became, and yet the hunger burns still – as if indicating that there was another hunger growing entrenched that needed sating and it wasn't blood. He pulled back slightly, confused, as he stared onto your neck – now freshly punctured, blood oozing down. You remembered feeling relief when he stopped as you really thought, at the rate at which he was frenzily feeding on you, he would have lost control.

The relief however was short-lived when you felt him plant what felt like a kiss on the spot. You furrowed your brows, utterly confused, only to be jolted back to reality when he did it again, now trailing kisses up your neck. You jerked your head away from him weakly, alarmed, only to be met by a gaze that was so searing and electric with desire – unnerving you more than his hunger-filled gaze ever had. "What are y-" you were going to ask but he never let you finished as he smashed his lips onto yours so hungrily, so urgently, so passionately – impatiently deepening the kiss with so much ferocity as if in a drunken stupor. Struggling to push him off, you leaned back slightly instead, just enough to wedge an arm against him to stop him from descending further while you extended your other hand behind you to prop yourself up against the piano lid. "Sunghoon, what are you doing?!" you demanded breathlessly.

"Isn't this a lesser evil than sucking your blood?" he muttered breathily, eyes completely glazed with lust. Suddenly you feel him grab the back of your thighs, pulling close towards him, causing you to lose your balance as he completely engulfed your frame, pushing you against the piano lid as he recaptured your lips in a fiery kiss. This time, more hungrily, more desperately, more aggressively – completely out of character for him – as if mirroring the unrelenting desire and yearning within, the repression of which was now overspilling uncontrollably. Crushing your body completely against his, he deepened the kiss further – almost urgently – parting your lips so adeptly and slipping his tongue into your mouth, causing you to protest harder though he easily pried your hand off of him, holding it with vice-like grip.

You eventually started to feel lightheaded, your strength quickly dissipating. As you floated in and out of your consciousness, you feel him trailing drunk and hungry kisses down your neck, then your collarbone, his hand tugging your cloths down your shoulders, his nails digging onto your skin possessively.

Then it all went to black.

— viii.

You jolted awake, sitting upright and panting as if you just had a really bad dream. Your hand instinctively reached for your neck and you felt some fresh puncture marks where the old mark used to be. That was when you knew, it wasn’t a dream at all. Well, at least I’m still alive, you were thinking to yourself before realising the unfamiliar bed you were sitting upright on and the unfamiliar black silk slip dress you were wearing. You stared up, aghast, only realising that the bane of your existence was seated on an armchair just opposite of bed, looking visibly amused.

You protectively gathered the blanket around you, trying to cover every inch of your exposed skin, “where am— why are you— what have you done to me?”

As if the circumstances you were in wasn’t questionable enough, the way he sloppily wore his ivory patterned silk shirt with the first few buttons unbuttoned in a way that partially exposed his chest, was further shoring it. It was just too casual and leisurely compared to the usual Sunghoon, who had always been neatly dressed to the nines.

“Oh darling,” he drawled as he rose up, walking at a glacial place towards the bed before resting his hands against the top of the footboard, “I’m offended you forgot about what we did. It was pretty wild. Sorry about your clothes though, couldn’t help but rip them to shreds in the heat of the mome-“

You threw a pillow at him, not even letting him finish, as you feel the heat rising up your cheeks, reminded of the way he had ferociously kissed you, the way his lips had trailed over your skin, and the way his hands roamed possessively over you. “Stop playing around,” you balked. He scoffed as he brushed his dishevelled hair back. You realised then that was the first time you’ve seen him with his hair down, since it was always slicked or parted in a way that revealed his forehead, and it was somehow making him look softer than usual – as if he could do no harm though the sly grin and the taunting gaze on his face begged to differ. 

He grabbed something from a nearby table, offering it to you, "Stop with the scowling now, I was only joking. Here, take this – it’s a silk robe to cover you if you want. Unless you want to stay under that blanket all day.”

You snatched it begrudgingly from his hand as he continued, “you passed out. Apparently, your blood hasn’t recuperated yet so even my meagre consumption last night caused you to black out. I had a doctor and a nurse over last night to check and replenish you. You should consider taking iron pills and multivitamins you know – you’re borderline anaemic.”

“And whose fault was it in the first place?” you remarked sarcastically as you put on the black silk robe, “anyway, that should be enough signs for you to find a better bloodbag don’t you think? This one is a dud.”

“not in your lifetime,” he quipped.

You furrowed your brows, “well you certainly weren’t just drinking my blood last night.”

“Ah right –,” his brows shot up, a smug grin tugging the corner of his lips, “apparently I wasn’t just hungry for blood. Not when your lips were in such proximity. Also, like I said, wasn't it a lesser evil compared to blood? you won't risk dying."

“I’d rather die, you insufferable prick,” you spat, plastering the fakest and most sarcastic grin you could muster. Sunghoon just smiled bitterly at that. Perhaps eloquence was never his strong suit. Perhaps all the deaths he had to take care of and witnessed over the decades had hardened him. Perhaps his rather strict and disciplined upbringing had skewed his personality in such a way that emotions are to be relegated to the bottom, beneath all else. Whatever it was, he could never compel himself to say the utmost truth to you – disguising everything instead in the most vicious and selfish nonsense he could muster. Sometimes, it almost felt as if he was trying to convince himself, not just you, that it was all just primal desires and nothing more.

“Give me my clothes back,” you demanded, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I’ve chucked it away – it’s all bloodied with some buttons ripped off. Hence, your current get-up—” he gestured, “don’t worry, a female housekeeper was the one who had helped you change but she misunderstood the context and put you into a rather seductive change of outfit. I’m not really complaining thou–” he trailed off, his eyes travelling down your body before you snapped him out of it, “my eyes are up here genius.”

“Sorry, it’s just a bit too distracting,” he cleared his throat, “— anyway, as I was saying, I had someone go and buy more change of clothes for you to change into. You would have to wait though, we’re currently far from the city centre.”

“Then lend me your clothes.”

“I don’t have any,” he replied instantaneously, “I just bought this mansion not too long ago so it's still pretty barren of my stuffs."

It was lie. A lie just so that he can make you stay longer – something out of character for him given how he never liked to linger around his partners. A lie that completely juxtaposed his belief that it was all just primal desires.

“I told you someone is coming with some new change of clothes. Just a few more minutes or hours of wait shouldn’t hurt. Unless you’re comfortable going out in that,” he cocked his head smugly as you eyed your get-up. It definitely was too revealing and probably too inappropriate for your standards as it looked more like a nightgown to be walking around in broad daylight in.

“As if it’s safe to stay here any longer than necessary with you,” you grumbled.

“Let’s just say if I wanted to do something bad to you, I would have already done it,” he muttered as a matter of factly, “you were, after all, passed out for more than 24 hours in a rather seductive dress.”

You glared at him, speechless now.

“Anyway, I’ll get you some food while waiting. You must be famished.”

Just primal desires, he repeated. As if he hadn’t personally tell his cook to make all the dishes that you liked, telling him in minute details how you liked your dish more on the salty side; how you didn't like broccolis and carrots; how you liked your steak medium rare – he knew it so well like the back of his hand. Just primal desires, he reassured himself. As if he hadn’t been selflessly nursing and caring for you all night, mind constantly occupied in worries and guilt for putting you in harm's way.

“I’m not hungry–" you retorted.

"You are. You passed out for more than 24 hours, you need to eat.”

“Well, I don’t want to. I want to go home,” you insisted, adamant.

Eyes locked onto you icily, he leaned down towards you, his hands resting against the mattress, on either side of your thighs, “look, we’re deep in the forest, away from the city. There are no public transport around here and little to no service, so your ticket out of this place is me and unless you eat, you’re not going anywhere.”

Just primal desires, he told himself again just as he spun the web further around you, getting increasingly lulled by the vision before him: you in his bed, in his mansion, away from the city. It was a perfect vision: just you and him, safely tucked away from all the noise, from everyone else. Just you for him.

“You can’t force me.”

“You want to try me?” he raised his brows tauntingly, “because I will carry you downstairs if you insists. I will spoonfeed you if I have to. Or better, I’ll just put the food in my mouth and pass it to you through-“

You shoved him away, vexed, as you rose up from the bed, “you’re such a domineering prick.”

“Only because you’re always so indomitable,” he quipped, looking satisfied even when he had just called you names. You begrudgingly followed him as he led you out of the room through a series of corridors, a grand staircase, past the living room and finally to the kitchen. Unlike his loft which was in modern architecture last time, this place was in Gothic Architecture, just like their hang-out room but with lots of painting, sculptures and books though no amount of adornment could offset the grimness of the place.

Over the dining table was a selection of mouth-watering food – the quality of which looked as if it came from a Michelin-starred restaurant. “I can’t eat these,” you muttered, arms folded, “how do I know you haven’t poisoned them? And how do I know if it isn’t human meat?”

“That’s a very uncivilised and savage take on us. We don’t eat human flesh,” he corrected.

“Still doesn’t root out poisoning,” you insisted, “if you want me to eat then cook something up for me now and let me watch. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

“You’re very distrustful.”

“I’d be stupid not be after all you put me through,” you snapped.

“Fine,” he exhaled sharply as he moved to the kitchen. You took a seat by the island, watching his every moves like a hawk as he took ingredients out of the fridge and lay it all out in front of you, "happy now?" he asked, gesturing at the frozen chicken meat. He then proceeded to chop up some aromatics so adeptly, as if he had done this a million times, after setting a pot to boil.

"How you even know how to cook? you guys don’t really eat and even if you do I’m pretty sure you have a cook to do that for you, no?”

“We don’t derive any satisfaction from eating anything but consuming blood so yes, we don’t really eat. But we’ve lived alongside humans for so long, we’ve got to learn the trade somehow,” he proceeded to wash the chicken meat – cleaning it so adeptly and meticulously with salt, lemon and vinegar. You soon got distracted by the pictures that lined the walls in the dining room – some of which featured him and his clique in garbs from different eras though they looked the same physically – only slightly younger and shorter in a few pictures. You looked back at him, scrutinising him when his eyes flitted to you, "are you wondering how old I am?”

“No. Why would I be curious about you?”

“Around 120,” he smirked relishing in the way your eyes widened and the way you pressed your lips together to suppress a gasp, “that’s the equivalent of 20s in human age by the way.”

“Do you guys just stop ageing physically beyond a certain threshold or something?”

“I thought you said you weren’t interested,” he gibed as he began frying – the scent soon filling the air deliciously, making your mouth water, "We do. But physically, it kind of slows down once we enter our teen. Usually at a rate of 1 year for every 10 human years or something.”

Looking over his shoulders, he asked, “Anything else you’re interested about? I’ll entertain. I’d rather be interrogated than be glowered at. You’re starting bore holes on my back.”

You lifted both of your legs up on the stool, hugging your knees close to your chest as you pondered carefully. You had a lot of questions truth to be told but after insisting that you had nothing to be curious about when it comes to him – that would be embarrassing. That being said, one pertinent question continue to burn in the back of your mind and no amount of pride could quell the curiosity behind that. “Did you kill them?” you finally asked after bouts of hesitation.

He switched off the stove and turned around, placing the pan onto a mat on the island, his eyes meeting yours in that signature chilling precision, “you mean am I the actual town’s serial killer?” he stretched his hands against the marble island, brows raised expectantly, gaze locked onto yours, “what do you think?”

You stared back into his eyes, scanning his face for any microchange in expressions that could've served as a hint. "No," you answered.

“That’s surprising,” he leaned back, arms folded, “thought you think of me as the big bad wolf?”

“I used to think you might have something to do with it,” you muttered honestly, “but I no longer think it has to do with the killing. Probably more on the covering up.”

He turned his attention back to the stove, attending the sauce that he had already started cooking earlier, “You’re correct. I didn’t kill any of them.”

“Was it Jungwon?”

“He was responsible for a couple of them,” he muttered without looking at you, “but it was a combination of other stray vampires too – the ‘unnaturals’ we call them. They are human-turned vampires – which has been alarmingly on the rise in this town over the past few years. There aren’t really any good reason to turn human into vampires unless you’re psychotic because ‘unnaturals’ are hard to control as you need to keep them constantly guided, trained and supervised – without which they'd just run amok, turning into a bloodthirsty fiend that pose risks to both humans, and us alike, risking our exposure.”

“So you covered the murders?”

You could see him nodding briefly as he turned around, plating the food neatly onto a plate, “since we are the official pure bloods currently residing in this town – the council of elders sought our help both to maintain order and catch the culprit.”

“So you're doing something good in a sense?” you raised your brows, “but still, you did bite the head cheerleader and Jungwon.”

“And you, too,” he added nonchalantly as he placed the meal he had cooked up in front of you, “Well I never said I was a good guy in the first place. We still need blood to live – we usually could substitute it for animal blood or bagged blood but blood from a living human is different. It’s far superior in taste, satiety and nutrients if you will. So preying on human for blood was never really banned for us vampires but it has to be done responsibly. If accidents happen, we must also ensure that they are taken care of. Though it should be avoided because too many accidents would definitely reach the ears of the councils.”

“Hence why the head cheerleader, Jungwon and you,” he emphasized, “still lives. Though unfortunately Jungwon got picked up by another pure blood, that we didn't roamed around, as I left him unattended while he passed out. This might have been the same pure blood who had been stirring chaos around town too.”

“Then why is it that you keep coming back for me and not leave me alone like the cheerleader or Jungwon?” you asked boldly.

“Because you're so vexing,” he muttered back, deadpanned.

“Then you should’ve killed me the first time you had bitten onto me,” you shot back.

"You’re not wrong, that was indeed my biggest mistake".

Your blood definitely fitted his palate so well – something that was rare for someone so picky like him. But more than that, there was something about you that had completely dumbfounded him. He found that the more he drink your blood, the hungrier he became but instead of fully descending down the animalistic spiral as he usually would have, the more his consciousness re-emerged. This was the reason why he had always been able to stop himself from succumbing into a feeding frenzy with you. The hunger however would still be there, growing more entrenched by the second, burning him from within but the satiation of that apparently lied elsewhere: in your lips; in your skin; in your warmth – you.

Had he killed you in the first place, he could have saved himself all the troubles. He could have just ended it with fury and bitterness. But now he was in too deep.

“You had a couple of other chances too,” you continued prodding, “what’s stopping you?”

He sighed, swivelling your chair so you faced him, as he leaned down towards you, his hand on either side of you, “if something is delicious, it has to be savoured. That’s what I’m doing with you. It’s not often that someone comes along with blood that perfectly matches my picky palate.”

You scoffed, “then explain the kisses.”

“Well, the act of feeding is not really as innocent as the act of normal eating is it? Think about it,” he trailed his finger down your jawline, to your neck, “it’s my lips, on your neck. Then of course, there’s the proximity, the hands, the heat of our bodies – everything pretty much easily coalesce into lusts especially in the heat of delirium-“ his eyes begin to inadvertently flit from your eyes to your lips, the flicker of desire apparent.

Sure, he wasn’t lying but Sunghoon was no hormonal teenager who could easily be lulled with such desires and he knew it well. It takes a lot to incite something like that in him. But you don’t have to know that, he thought to himself.

You smacked his hand away. You didn’t expect him to say something sweet and mushy obviously but you would be lying if his words doesn’t sear. All the better, you tell yourself, reassuring that this way, you can stop feeling guilty or thankful to him beyond what is necessary. That you can just dampen any glimmer of thought that Sunghoon is different than what he present to be. “The deal was to offer my blood not to be your slvt,” you rolled your eyes as you swivelled your chair back towards the table, picking up the cutleries, "If I finish these, you’ll send me home immediately?”

He nodded, chin resting on his palm with his elbows propped against the table as he watched you, his lips curving unknowingly in such a gentle way as he watched you savour the food, your brows all knitted-up, your head nodding in satisfaction, “I take it that you like my cooking?”

“Only because I’m starving,” you grumbled, surprised at how hungry you actually were, finishing your meal faster than you usually would. You pushed the empty plates, staring back at him, “I’m full. Give me the clothes you promised me and send me home now.”

“Of course,” he gestured, fishing out his phone. Suddenly, an older man in dark suit and slicked-back hair entered the kitchen, carrying paper bags from luxurious brands. “They’re all yours, change into whichever you like. You can find me in the living room once you’re done.”

“These-“ you panicked, looking at the tags, each having more digits than you could ever afford, “I can’t accept all of them – they cost a fortune!”

“they cost nothing to me,” he shrugged, “treat it as a gift or something. You had, after all been, rather satisfactory.”

You scoffed, his choice of words always so offensive and searing. Begrudgingly you trudged up to the washroom, changing into the plainest one you could find out of the bunch – a simple ivory ruffle satin blouse from Hermes. You re-emerged from the washroom, dumping the bags in front of him, “I don’t want any of it. And this-“ you gestured to the blouse you were wearing, “I’ll repay you.”

“You’re always so stubborn, it’s just a token of appreciation,” he shrugged, rising up, guiding you through a series of corridors towards the main entrance.

“What we had was a deal,” you emphasized, “there is no need for any sort of appreciation there. It’s purely transactional.”

“You’re always so cold,” he muttered, opening the door of his G-Wagon for you, “and I’m insufferable – we’re perfect for each other.”

You glared at him as you entered his car, grabbing onto the door to close it before he could even close it for you.

If it was up to him, he wouldn't send you home at all. He would just continue to spin the web around you, keep you close with him, lock you inside with him. But he knew not to push buttons too far. He had plenty of time.

He had forever.

— ix.

Days turned to weeks then turned to months, and true to his words, Sunghoon really never let your deal nor you go. Being the insufferable prick he is however, he took to snatching you away out of the blue while you were in the campus corridors, into an empty class room, empty closet, empty toilet, dark and desolated library corners , you name it, just to feed on you in the most thrilling way.

“Blood tends to taste better when hearts race. How else can I do that than to take you by surprise?” he grinned slyly as he pushed you against the wall, completely unbothered that someone could have always walked in on you both. With eyes that had rapidly lightened to golden and canines erupting into full fangs, his hands would always be so swift and adept, already unbuttoning your top buttons or sometimes, tugging your shirt down your shoulders impatiently while the other hand seized your head like talons – as if he hadn’t already pinned you up against a surface with his massive frame.

While the prickle of pain that followed no longer made you jump nor flinch, you could never get used to the act of him sucking your blood through your neck. With fear and dread now subsiding, the intimacy of the act, like he had said before, was now too discernible to ignore: his soft lips on your neck, the way his hands and fingers roamed and gripped you, the way his head bob against the crook of your neck, the way his body was pressed up against you, and of course, the gaze as he pulled away – a gaze with smouldering intensity which never failed to make your heart race.  It’s just transactional, you would tell yourself, you’re nothing but a bloodbag y/n, you reassured yourself.

Except you didn’t know how much longer you could tell yourself that especially after you bumped into Heeseung one day in one of the empty corridors. His eyes trained on the fresh puncture wounds on your neck, “I hope he’s not overdoing it.”

Your hand immediately flew to your neck, covering it – as if it was some sort of a hickey to be shameful about. You gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement before brushing past him though he grabbed your wrist mid-way with a grip that felt like iron – a stark contrast with the gentle and amiable image he was well-known for. But then again, you reminded yourself, he’s a vampire just like Sunghoon – it might all just be a façade.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he reassured, letting your hand go, “I just need a quick word.”

“Then be quick,” you relented, folding your arms defensively, maintaining a certain distance.

“I don’t how far you have gone with Sunghoon but let me tell you, you guys may be perfect for each other in a complementary way but,” he hesitated, “it could also coalesce perfectly into toxicity.”

"You've got it all wrong," you corrected, "we haven’t 'gone' anywhere. And we won’t. There is no way I would develop feelings for him and there is no way he would develop feelings for me when he could have anyone with the snap of a finger. Whatever we have, it’s completely transactional. So don’t worry about it.”

“It's you who I am worried for,” he sighed, eyes softening in such a way that conveyed genuine worry, “I can assure you that the fact that you went this far with him – breaking almost every guard he has and bending him in ways he had never allowed, meant something. I can’t speak for him but I’ve known him for decades to know a breach when there is one."

“That being said, obsession driven by attraction can be just as dangerous as contempt,” he continued as he fished out a crystal vial which was filled with dark red liquid, “it doesn’t matter if you like him back or not – if he wants you, he’ll make sure he’ll own you and the moment he feels like he’s losing you, his claws will just tighten.”

Suddenly he offered the vial towards you, “here's a chance for you to cut yourself from him.”

You eyed it suspiciously, "Is it poison? Are you asking me to poison him?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s kind of like a tranquiliser for us,” he beckoned you to take it, “it’s time for us to move away but he had been adamant in sticking around. I can’t let that happen but at the same time he’s too strong and too stubborn to listen,” he sighed, “so if you feel that there is any truth in what I have said, feed him this – however you see fit. It’s potent so just a drop is enough to incapacitate him momentarily. I’ll know when it works so I’ll quickly go to you when that happens and take him away."

You reluctantly took it from his hand, “and if I don’t?"

“Then I can’t save you anymore,” he mustered a weak smile.

"Why would you help me? He's your friend," you questioned.

"Exactly because he's my friend," he muttered despondently, "you both are poison to one another. Ive been through such tragedy once, I'm not letting him go through it."

You remembered tossing and turning that very night as Heeseung’s words replay in your mind incessantly like a broken record. Even when you’ve chucked the vial in the deepest corner of your drawer, under a bunch of other stuffs, you still can’t help but think of it.

Eventually, you rose up from your bed, reluctantly opening the drawer where the vial had been hidden away. Hugging your knees close to your chest, you held the vial in your hand up against night light.

Back then, you would have killed for this chance to rid of him. Yet now that the chance is right in your hand, you find yourself hesitating, thinking of reasons why you shouldn't instead.

— x.

Eventually you’ve reached the end of your academic year – all your hard work, labouring in the library and burning the midnight oil, culminated in distinctions. Not even waiting until graduation, you soon fell into another set of routine, from part-timing; volunteering to job-searching – already eager to start the next part of your life. This in turn had also limited the amount of times you bump into Sunghoon which was ideal, you thought, though he had now taken to appearing at your balcony at odd hours once or twice a month.

Like a loan shark, he just never missed asking for his due.

“Why can’t you drop by during day time or something?” you grumbled lethargically as you opened your balcony door at 3AM, "suddenly sensitive to sunlight are you?"

“You’re busy in the daytime,” he said as a matter-of-factly, closing the door behind him as if it was already a routine, “unless you want me to crash your part-time or volunteering places-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. Funny how capable you are of being considerate,” you sighed, gesturing him over, “let’s get it done with, it’s late.”

You don’t know if the new night routine was skewing your perception or if Heeseung’s words had started to sow seeds in your mind unwittingly but it was becoming alarmingly apparent to you how with every bite, everything felt less transactional from Sunghoon’s side. From the gentler touches; the possessive grasps; and the gaze that lingered longer – conveying more than the usual hunger within. Tonight, too, it felt all the more apparent as you flinched, suddenly feeling his cold tongue slid over your puncture wounds, catching the blood that trailed down.

“I told you not to do that,” you protested, edging your face slightly away from him, meeting his eyes that stared back with such smouldering intensity that it was making your heart flip.

“What if I want to?” he asked, face completely impassive, but gaze darkening by the second. You swallowed thickly as you stared back into those eyes while leaning back slowly, as if trying to probe the depth of his mind and test if there was any grain of truth to Heeseung’s words. He followed suit, face charging slowly towards you, as if chasing yours – his hands never leaving your waists and his gaze locking with yours yours in a gaze that was so electrifying.

You could have recoiled, you could have jerked away, you could have turned, you could have pushed him – but almost as if drawn by the gravity that seemingly existed between you and him, you just backed away slowly, eyes locked with his. You feel his hips pressing onto you as your back hit the countertop, giving you no more chance to back away. Face now only inches away from you with gaze that was so electric with desires, you can feel his breath hot against your lips and his body warm against yours – the warmth of which you didn’t expect from him, given how he was usually cold to the touch.

Again, you could have turned away. But you didn’t. Instead you let him draw nearer, his lips now ghosting over yours, his hand tracing the curvature of your spine, fingers folding protectively as it slid over the side of your ribs – the air crackling with electricity, with tension that is so palpable, it could have cut. If it was just primal desires on his side, he should have no problem breaking the tension by forcing a kiss on you – something he had done before. If it was just complete vehemence on your side, you should have shoved him away – something you had always done before too. But instead, you two just let yourselves bask in the moment of utter hesitance – just one move away from breaking the tension that warped the air and letting it all crumble.

His eyes flitted from your eyes to your lips, prompting you to do the same – the gaze from both of which was just oozing in repressed desires and bottled emotions. As if mirroring the restraint that was hanging by the last thread, his fingers had begun to dug painfully into your ribs and you had begun to tightly clench a fistful of his shirt.

You could see it then, in the depths of his searing gaze, that the flicker of desire, was catching flames. “No—” you weakly mustered, turning away just a fraction of seconds after he leaned in, evading the capture of his lips. You feel his breathing hot and laboured against your jaw, where he stayed rooted instead. You squeezed your eyes shut, disappointed at yourself for almost succumbing, "leave," was all you could managed as you pushed him weakly.

Perplexingly, and rather fortunately, he complied, weakly prying himself away from you though in such an agonisingly slow pace. “—now,” you insisted, daring to look back into his eyes – which was surprisingly gentle and pensive this time. You knew then, he was cracking.

You brushed past him, leaving your room, feeling nauseated as you wondered, if you had cracked too?

By the time you returned to your room, it was already empty though the tension from before still hung in the air, proceeding to haunt you for the remainder of the night over why and what could have been.

— xi.

Perhaps he had gotten bored of you. Perhaps the realisation that something was budding beyond normalcy was hitting his pride badly that he needed to step back. Perhaps, he had really moved abroad with Heeseung like what Heeseung had planned. Whatever it was, you hadn’t seen him since that evening – something you were of course, grateful for.

Sometimes, you feel his presence in the crowd and in the shadows as you go about your way, volunteering, working part-time, interviewing and so on – but he was never there. Just your imagination and skewed intuition. Tonight too as you attended the graduation after-party, you thought you saw his face in the midst of the crowd; his presence in the shadows; and his voice amidst the cacophony of noise. But again, you were wrong and you chalked it all up to exhaustion.

Eventually you slip away to the balcony, trying to find a momentary respite as your head had begun to splinter from all the socializing.

“Want me to take you away?”

You jumped, your train of thoughts came crashing.

Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself as you exhaled sharply, startled, at the sight of Sunghoon leaning against the door frame.

“You look bored,” he continued, letting himself in and closing the door behind him to shield you two away from any prying eyes, “of course you are, you hate crowds and you hate celebration”.

“You missed graduation,” was all you could muster.

“We’ve graduated countless of times so it means nothing to us,” he shrugged.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you’re here,” he replied very quickly with no taunting smirk, unlike usual.

You sighed as you leaned back against the bannister, turning your head sideway and baring your neck, “don’t take too much, we’re in public.”

He scoffed, “that’s touching and all but I’m not a monster. You’re not just a bloodbag to me.”

You abruptly turned your head towards him, brows furrowed, "but I’m just supposed to be a blood bag to you.”

“that’s not for you to dictate.”

Suddenly, you heard a piercing scream from inside. You rushed towards the door, seeing the crowd clamouring over Nicholas who had been carried on a stretcher. Nicholas was the guy you had gotten close with over the past few weeks since you two had started interning together. You immediately rushed towards the door, about to re-enter the hall when Sunghoon stopped you, his grip over your wrist felt almost like iron, "he’s not dead yet. Just fainted.”

You looked at him in horror, “what do you mea- did you do this?”

“You probably didn’t realise it but he had underlying intentions towards you,” he muttered flatly, his grip unrelenting, “he spiked your drink.”

“He- what?” you stopped protesting, reminded of the way both Sunoo and even Ni-Ki had warned you against him, though you didn’t pay too much attention to it since he had always been so nice with you, “but that doesn’t- that doesn’t mean you have to take it in your hands and incapacitate him.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” he rolled his eyes, “I didn’t drink a lot. I just exert certain pressure on his hand and neck to make him pass out. After hurling a bunch of threats to him, that is.”

"You really need to be careful with who you interact with," he cautioned, "human are very easy. They catch feelings very easily."

It suddenly dawned on you horrifyingly that perhaps your intuition had been right. That it had always been him, in the crowd and in the shadows, always closely following and watching. Heeseung’s words begin to flood your mind.

"Obsession driven by attraction is just as dangerous as contempt". "It doesn’t matter if you like him back or not – if he wants you, he’ll make sure he’ll own you and the moment he feels like he’s losing you, his claws will just tighten".

"Euijoo, from my part-time job-" you asked, voice shaky as you were reminded of how he had suddenly submitted his resignation letter without bidding you goodbye just a day after he confessed to you, "was that your doing too?"

"You've always hated receiving confessions and the guilt in your face throughout the whole night was pretty telling of it," he quipped, "I was just doing you a favour no? I didn't bite him though. Just told him off and offer him money. You can still find him in the bookstore near the mall, alive and annoyingly cheery as usual."

You looked at him, completely aghast. Realizing the truth a tad bit too late. Of how you are completely entrapped within his claws with other people being wrought in it as well.

He scoffed, looking hurt, “Why are you staring at me like that? I was only looking out for you – in both instances,” he tugged onto your arm, pulling you into an embrace that gradually tightened in a way snake constricts its prey, "can’t you see? the length I go for you.”

You wanted to push him off but almost like a muscle memory, it gave up after a few attempts, unwittingly melting into his embrace in defeat as the guilt filled you and the dread hounded you.

“Let’s head home,” he murmured softly into your hair.

Obviously you wanted nothing to do with him anymore tonight but you knew him – you knew that look in his eyes, you knew that grip around your hand, so you just obliged, excusing yourself to the restroom for a bit to collect yourself. He nodded, giving you a brief smile, “don’t run away okay?”

It was such a harmless sentence delivered in the gentlest way and yet, you could feel the way it’s laced almost like a threat.

The ride back home was mostly silent, your mind racing with a billion thoughts. He walked you up to your door silently. As you turned your doorknob, you muttered, “I’m moving in a few days.”

“I heard,” he replied almost instantaneously, “you landed a job at one of the big-3 right?”

You turned around, mustering the courage, “what would happen to our deal?”

“What about it? I’ve secured the unit next to yours,” he replied so nonchalantly, “it would be as if nothing had changed.”

“you what? But how–" Your brows knit in dismay. Only Sunoo knew about you getting the job and moving so for Sunghoon to have not just known the news but have also secured the unit next to yours was filling you with so much terror.

“You know me, what I want, I get.”

Heeseung's words rang in your mind deafeningly again.

He furrowed his brows, “what? You didn’t expect the deal to just end like that did you?” He scoffed, taking steps towards you, his footsteps echoed ominously in the hallway, “it won’t. I won’t let it.”

“Sunghoon, back off-“ you warned as you backed away into your home, swiftly about to close the door on him but he was faster as he wedged his shoe in between, pushing the door open, letting himself in, "you won't ever escape me y/n, I own you – that permanent mark on your neck should serve as a constant reminder for you."

Sunghoon didn't know why he was all riled up – perhaps it's the look of terror in your eyes. After all he had done for you, all the patience and considerations he had also imparted to you – what he got back was instead a look of fear. And he thought you guys were making good progress over the past few months, despite some hiccups now and then.

“Sunghoon, I am not yours and I will never be so you have no righ-“

He tugged your hand, slamming you against the door, not letting you finish your sentence at all. You shuddered as you looked up into his eyes – the steeliness of which you hadn't seen in a while that you forgot just how intimidating and paralyzing it was.

“you said it yourself, it’s all primal desires," you protested, writhing under his grasps.

“Haven’t I shown you enough? Displayed enough patience, enough consideration and enough restraint? Are those not enough as indication?” he asked, the disappointment so evident in the strain of his voice and weight of his stare.

“It’s all just obsession, you’re mistaking it,” you argued.

He scoffed, his eyes suddenly golden, his hand cradling the back of your head, “why don’t we see who’s mistaking what?”

You wedged a hand, palming him by the chest, “Sunghoon-“ your eyes were almost pleading but he was already seeing red – blinded by obsession, clouded by anger – as he crushed your body against his, claiming your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue soon pried your lips apart, deepening his kiss so desperately and hungrily, in a way that you could feel all the emotions he had bottled and repressed for you – from the anger, the bitterness, the yearning and the longing. You tried to shove him away, knowing very well you were of no match against him – not when he was completely overtaken by his his desires and impulses.

Suddenly he pulled away, his eyes staring back at you in alarm. By the time he realized something was wrong, it was far too late, as he teetered backwards unwittingly, knocking vases and books over, before he collapsed to the floor, breathing becoming more laborued. His face soon contorted in to a mixture of fury and hurt as he stared back at you, “you-“

Your legs buckled under you as you stared weakly at him, your eyes somehow misty as you watched him struggle. When you used the washroom earlier, you had mixed the red liquid from the vial that Heeseung had given you, with your lipstick – remembering how he said it won’t have an effect on human and that that it was so potent on vampires that even a drop would've sufficed. You then proceeded to apply it on your lips, your gut feelings telling you that you might need it tonight. As your gut feelings had told you, you indeed needed it.

A dark figure suddenly materialised behind Sunghoon – it was Heeseung, looking forlornly at the way Sunghoon was all hunched up over the floor, coughing, feeling his strength dissipating by the second despite his efforts. He glowered with every muscle he had left in his face, at Heeseung who was holding him by his arm, then to you. Locked to your eyes, his gaze hardened, almost that with utter fury though his misty eyes conveyed otherwise. Heeseung gave you a brief appreciative nod, before he wrapped his cloak over Sunghoon, both vanishing into thin air within split seconds after.

You should be elated that the bane of your existence was now gone, probably for eternity, but a tear soon rolled down your cheeks. Though you couldn’t tell, nor do you want to, if it was simply out of guilt, sadness or regret.

A/N: Hello everyone! If you've reached here then thank you so much for presevering through this massive chapter (and I -oop 💀) I hope it has been an interesting ride and thank you for sticking by and showing so much interest for this series. This particular chapter went through massive overhaul multiple times lol but thank goodness Dark Blood came in just in time to give me a new burst of energy and motivation wheee If you saw my previous post and had been waiting for it, I apologise for the delay huhuu I got stuck in some parts 💀 Ps. If you enjoy this, shower it with some love by leaving me some comments on it hehe I dont bite 🙆🏻‍♀️

Taglist: @axartia | @my5colours | @elinushka-ka | @nowjillsandwich | @leaderwon | @moniqueovermoney | @ashrocker123 | @soonyoungblr | @hydroyaksha | @ikayyyyyy | @asyleums | ((I hope I haven't missed out anyone huhuu :( ))

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TRY AGAIN - 02. so whenever you ask me again

SYNOPSiS. the expected had unexpectedly, but finally, happened. infamous heartbreaker sunghoon park and quiet girl y/n. broken up. you and sunghoon, the college campus it couple. what happened? what happened to the two lovers who had the most love for each other in the world? broken promises and broken hearts. but do you two ever want to try again?

PAiRiNG. non idol!sunghoon x fem!reader (ft. rest of enhypen)

WARNiNGS. mentions of: party & drinking. + angst if you squint, the boys are kinda jerks here (sawry..), niki isn't in this scene (#4ThePlot), swearing

WORD COUNT. 1.2K

TAGLiST. open! send in an ask or dm

PREViOUS SERiES MASTERLiST

“i think i love you y/n. let me take you out on a date.” words spilling out of sunghoon’s mouth that you definitely were not expecting out of the blue.

turning firetruck red again, words coming out of a sputter you managed to reply to him. “what?” okay, maybe not a reply. more like another chance to get your mind straight.

“i said i like you,” sunghoon smiled. the same genuine smile he flashed at you under the tree, with the soft eyes staring into you. the warmth, too? “you’ve had my interest for such a long time, we’ve talked here and there. so i’m here taking my chances to ask if i can be your boyfriend.”

heart pulsating too fast, and the world going hazy around you. “are you sure?”

oh stupid stupid choices. if only you knew what happened just about five minutes ago. the talk sunghoon had with his friends five minutes ago. or perhaps the way five minutes the best amount of money was offered to him. all revolving around you. only if you knew, that if it wasn’t for the stupid party. maybe you would’ve been asked out by sunghoon - but genuinely.

around an hour ago, the reeking smell of alcohol was the last thing sunghoon wanted to smell. just about everywhere in the room, it was filled with people dancing and drunk flirts here and there. he didn’t want to be here - definitely not when all he could think about was you.

playing dare or dare, with the side of shots on the side, with his half-sober ass friends was definitely not a good idea. and yet here he was, playing the fifth round of this stupid game. shots were taken, and the rounds kept going. about 40 minutes had passed and it was still going.

“hey hoon,” jake grinned. “i have a good one for you.”

not good. jake’s words were slurred, and that was definitely a wasted man down. it wasn’t going to go well.

“ask the girl out. the girl from earlier today, whoever it was.” another grin, but this time. from everyone. 5 drunk fucks staring at sunghoon with the most vile smiles on their faces, something that he wished he could just slap off.

a humph from sunghoon, and a firm, “no. and i’m leaving.” he might’ve been tipsy but he knew that this was stupid. he didn’t want to play you - i mean. notorious for being the college heartbreaker, you were different. if he wanted to get with you, he would do it for all the realness and truth behind it. not just become of some stupid game he wanted to win. he was already at the door before leaving the small room upstairs, apart from the whole party downstairs.

“500 dollars.” 

a number and cash value enough to make sunghoon stop and turn around to stare at jay. “what?”

another smirk with slurred words, “500 dollars. tell her you like her. and then go on a date her, break up with her after. it’s a take or leave, you could have so much fun with this.”

oh. 500 dollars was a huge bag for sunghoon. with 500 dollars he could finally pay off some money he, well claimed, to have “borrowed”. with 500 dollars he could get more stuff he wanted. or 500 dollars to spend on you, while dating you. while sharing the kisses with you. while sharing his love with you. 500 dollars and he could possibly beat the heartbreaker allegations around the campus, and just prove how much of a good boyfriend he could be. 500 dollars that you would never know about, while having the perfect relationship with him. a fever dream. surreality.

“500 dollars and it’s a deal.” if only the world could scream at sunghoon and tell him how much of a dick he was for doing this to you.

and now here you two were, eyes on each other. playing a game of a staring contest, in silence. if you exclude the loud thumping noises from downstairs with all the jabbing music and laughter. and if you also exclude the low-whistle that jay, and presumably the rest of boys, let out after seeing this moment. a moment where if anyone walked past, they would see two lovers mindlessly boring into each other’s eyes.

“sunghoon,” you started of slowly. you were aware that his friends were practically eyeing you two wildly, and you needed to say something. “i think you’re drunk.” you said that he was drunk but you were now in love. the boy who you’ve secretly crushed on for the past months was here confessing to you first. obviously this would get you giddy.

500 dollars sunghoon. “i’m not. you’re really pretty and you’re smart. i’ve noticed it during class, and i’ve liked you for a long time. you’re cute, too.” spot the lie kind of game. lies made up on the spot, but genuinely, were they actually lies?

you could’ve easily said that you weren’t interested. or you could’ve asked him why he first said he loved you, only repeating himself to say that he liked you. you could’ve questioned him and what he wanted, that out of the blue he would tell you this. things that could've been done to prevent you from exemplifying the consequences, that didn’t feel like troubles to you in the future.

“sunghoon,” you sighed. you didn’t know where this was going, and it was making you feel uneasy, in a good way. unfortunately. “it’s just so random, you know. we’ve never even properly talked until today. and that was awkward, too.”

“let me take you out. one date and tell me how you feel. one date and we could get to know each other more. let me show you that i’m not drunk right now and i truly like you. and if things go well, i’ll ask if i can be your boyfriend. that’s it. that’s all i ask for.” this was a huge hit or miss for sunghoon. he knew that you could easily say no and walk away as if nothing happened. or maybe ignore him forever now.

but maybe luck was on his side as you softly said, “okay.” elated on the inside, thinking he was grabbing this chance to keep you at his side. where he could give you endless amounts of love.

love, meaning a deep affection for someone or something. and he could say that he loved you. he’s noticed the small things you’ve done in class. the way you turned your paper 15 degrees to the left when writing stuff down. or the way you furrowed your eyebrows when you were typing on your laptop. the specific angle and place you held a pencil in between your fingers. oh, how he loved the way you would ask him in a soft voice for something, maybe an eraser, getting him giddy for nothing. too deep of a crush, that he’s never revealed before.

and maybe, it was time for him to finally get the chance and prove it. prove to everyone that you two were meant to be. but only if he knew the troubles issued per se the ones that he unintentionally created.

NOTE. sawry for the delay and this is kinda half assed... i got so busy with school i kept forgetting to update it. but i really wanted to post at least something for this chapter 😭 i didn't proofread it too so LAWL hope you enjoyed it though :]

TAGS. @lovingvoidgoatee @babystrlla @adoredbyjay @eneiyri @bts-army380 @rikibun @ddazed-lhs @txtlyn TAGLIST IS OPEN!

Bye I might just dig out my eyes lol

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟓𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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(A/N: we literally only have two chaps and the epilogue left this is CRAZY 🤕 thank you guys so, so much for all the love and support, am sending everyone kisses pls accept them as a form of gratitude 🥺 i love you all sm💞 feedback is always appreciated!!!💞🧸)

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Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.