PAIRING ▸ park sunghoon x fem!reader x sim jaeyun (ft. park jongseong)
GENRES ▸ fluff, angst, psychological, horror, thriller
WARNINGS ▸ profanity, murder, descriptions of gore, unrequited love, found family, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, mc is an unreliable narrator
SUMMARY ▸ if you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting park sunghoon.
WORD COUNT ▸ 14,064 words
PLAYLIST ▸ back to black by amy winehouse • the french library by franz gordon • perfectly splendid by the newton brothers
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! this fic is a rewrite of one of my first horror fics that i’ve written :') it badly needed reworking and i completely changed the ending. i hope you guys enjoy my spooky szn contribution ♡
THE TRUTH WAS, YOUR LIFE BEGAN TO FALL APART EVEN BEFORE YOU MET SIM JAEYUN.
You realized this as you woke up, face pressed against the ice-cold, concrete floor of a holding cell; when the guards dragged your uncooperative, limp body into an interrogation room; when you were face-to-face with Detective Lee Heeseung and handcuffed to a cold, metal table as he read your Miranda Rights. The handcuffs dug into the flesh of your wrists, but you only fought against them once and gave up as soon as you realized they wouldn’t give in. You just wanted to thumb away the crusted blood staining your hands and pick out the flakes under your nails.
The room was foreign to you. It was something you’d seen in movies and read in books, but you never fathomed the idea of being in an interrogation room yourself. There was a two-way glass that you aimlessly stared at, wondering who was listening in on the other end.
You couldn’t figure out just how you ended up in this situation. Everything was smooth in your memory up until your supposed arrest—a tear in the fabric of your recollection. You hardly remembered what happened on the way to the police station or when you were getting booked in. You dug your palms into your temples and then pressed against the soft flesh under your eyes, frustrated by the stunted gears in your head. As much as you begged than to click and start spinning, they remained stuck and rusted in place.
But you couldn’t ask the brooding man standing over you. You couldn’t look up into his cold, unforgiving eyes. After all, he knew you were a murderer.
“There’s no use in lying to me, Y/N,” Detective Lee said gruffly with a gaze like steel, “the prints match.”
You drummed your fingers against the table—a habit that was rooted in your anxiety. Your fingers were stained and pruned like roses, and as hard as you tried to paint the table red, it only flaked off. You were sure your heartbeat was faster than the tapping of your fingers, your mind perhaps speeding off twice as fast.
Your stomach twisted. If Jaeyun was going to prison, too, then you could no longer protect him.
There was a limit to how much he could take; you knew that being thrown in the slammer would be intolerable for him. You knew you needed to get to him immediately because Jaeyun was the guy who felt too little and too much at the same time—the guy who looked for the part of him that ran away, who self-destructed when he felt the world closing in on him.
After all, Jaeyun was a stick of trinitrotoluene lit at both ends.
You worked up the courage to look Detective Lee in the eye, which made him stiffen up, biceps flexing under his white button-up.
“Where’s Jaeyun?” you asked.
Detective Lee’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Cutting into his pale cheeks. You decided that couldn’t be a good reaction.
You continued, “He didn’t do anything, I swear. He was just there. He didn’t do anything.”
“If you cooperate with us, then you can see Jaeyun again,” the detective answered in a clipped tone. “I can sit here all day and wait.”
Cooperate. You hated that word.
You knew Detective Lee was just trying to sugarcoat your betrayal. You knew he was looking down on you, ready to push you to your limit.
But there was nothing you could do in this room. There was no way for you to escape or talk your way out of it to see Jaeyun. You knew quite well that staying silent would only prevent you from making sure your boyfriend was okay.
You had no other choice but to work with Detective Lee.
“Will you at least make sure he’s not hurt?” you inquired, to which Detective Lee agreed with a nod.
“I’ll ask again: Will you cooperate?”
You stayed silent. You despised your old habit of shutting down like this, but you couldn’t help it.
Detective Lee sighed and sat in the chair across from you so that you both were eye-level with each other. “Listen, Y/N, you’re young. This murder investigation—this is serious stuff, okay? We just need to know the full story before we jump to any conclusions and make a false arrest. Can we start from last night?”
Deep down, you understood. But it’s all too fresh—too soon. The grief had yet to settle. The recollections of blood and lifeless eyes poisoned your head; it was all you could see when you closed your eyes.
You sounded hollow when you said, “It didn’t… start from last night.”
Detective Lee acknowledged this and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “Then let’s hear it from the beginning.”
If you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting Park Sunghoon.
Your first meeting was at the age of fourteen. Moving schools was an unexpected shift in your life, and you didn't expect to find many friends at your new school. Starting new in the beginning of the year was one thing, but entering unknown territory with people already acclimated in their respective groups was another.
People flocked to comfort, and you were sure that no one would want to step out of their comfort zone to bring a stranger into their friend group.
And then Sunghoon swooped in, like an angel sent from the heavens.
Initially, he was awkward. You were both fourteen-years-old and going through the initial stages of puberty—all voice cracks and awkward intervals of growth stunts. Sunghoon was soft-spoken and didn’t have many friends when he approached and befriended you.
It started when you both found out you shared a love for novels. You spent hours talking about your favorite books, and Sunghoon shared his dream of wanting to craft the perfect story. Oftentimes, Sunghoon would share some of his writing with you, and then his eyes would sparkle upon hearing your feedback.
You two were classmates, sitting right next to each other in the back of the classroom, conveniently right next to the door. You got to know Sunghoon slowly—the same gradual feeling of starting to care for someone. You knew his boundaries, though, because you were aware that you could never be the closest to Sunghoon. He and Park Jongseong were attached at the hip, and you couldn’t lie to yourself; you felt like a third wheel in the beginning.
But there was some comfort in the security of your friendship.
“It’s you and me,” Sunghoon would tell you, “the two of us against the world.”
You knew you should have been grateful to have made friends in the first place, but you didn’t exactly know if you belonged with them. As comfortable as you felt, there was always a whisper in the back of your head, telling you that you would never be their number one.
You would never be anyone’s number one.
“I don’t understand girls,” Jongseong said one day, hands tucked behind his head as the three of you were hanging out in Sunghoon’s room. You were flipping through some comic book that Sunghoon had laying around, and you shifted uncomfortably upon hearing the question.
“You don’t have to.” Sunghoon’s eyes flitted from you, and then back to his phone. He swiped through some apps, but you could tell he wasn’t really paying attention judging by the glazed-over look in his eyes. “Girls make no sense at this age.”
Jongseong nudged you. “You have anything to say about that, Y/N?”
To be honest, you didn’t understand yourself much either. You were just starting to go through puberty, and it wasn’t ideal for a teenager as young as you to only have guy friends. You couldn’t relate to any of the girls your age, nor could you ask them if they were going through the same changes you were.
You were acquainted with several girls, of course, but you never got close enough to ask what feelings and experiences they had. You wanted to know if they were becoming as conscious of themselves and others like you were, but you kept those questions bottled up since you only had Sunghoon and Jongseong.
“Nope,” you replied. “I couldn’t tell you.”
You supposed Jongseong was having girl problems again, and it all clicked because lately, he had been hanging around a pretty girl in their class. They were cute together and clearly into each other, but you could pick up on the issue: Jongseong was on the down-low about their relationship. More importantly, he had been on the down-low about it around Sunghoon, which had to have been breaking some sort of best friend code.
Jongseong asked, “You like anyone, Hoon?”
Hoon, your brain echoed, and you imagined yourself using the name as casually as Jongseong did. It sounded awkward coming from you, though. Friends gave each other nicknames, right? What if you gave Sunghoon a nickname? How would he react?
Sunghoon flushed behind his phone screen. You could tell he wanted it to go undetected, but you caught a glimpse of his flustered expression before he was able to compose himself.
“Oh, not really,” he replied with an air of indifference. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t really been looking.”
“How about you, Y/N?”
You faltered for a moment before you realized you had been addressed. It was a normal question; you should have expected it, but it hit you like a tornado and your mind was swirling. Dating had crossed your mind a few times, sure, you had never prepared an answer because you thought it was going to be straightforward—a simple “yeah, there’s a few cute guys in class.” But that wasn’t the case this time, and you were wondering why there wasn’t any clarity in your head.
Come on, Y/N, you urged yourself, as if you were complaining to multiple, uncooperating attendants working in your brain. Just say something—anything.
Your mind was blanking, though, and you were scared. You couldn’t quite grasp why your stomach felt like a never-ending pit, but it only worsened when you couldn’t spit some guy’s name out. You wanted to open up your skull, thoroughly examine your head, poke at the areas refusing to work, and figure out who you couldn’t just list some attractive guy in class; on top of that, you wondered why you couldn’t just flat-out refuse the statement and claim that there was no one you were interested in.
You were struck with a painful realization that there was only one person you could think of.
Sunghoon.
No, no, no, your brain and your heart screamed at each other. Get ahold of yourself.
You quickly decided that it was just a passing feeling that you needed to suppress until it went away. It was just stupid teenage hormones and puberty making you feel this way and starving you of affection that you didn’t actually need in the first place. If you didn’t get a hold over yourself, you were going to crumble and ruin the good things you had going.
You internally convinced yourself that everything was fine. There were plenty of teenagers your age who had moments of weakness like this with their guy friends. You just needed to branch out more, that was all.
Sheepishly, you replied before the boys could chew you out, “There’s no one I’m interested in right now.”
You weren’t a very good liar, but as long as Sunghoon and Jongseong were sold, you were content with how things were.
Your group expanded when you turned fifteen, and you and Sunghoon grew closer—maybe even closer than Sunghoon and Jongseong were.
You were laying down in your bed one night, breaking into sobs when you realized that you needed more than one hand to count the number of friends you had now. Your shell was broken and your world was bigger. You normally lived like your uphills were mountains and your downhills were cliffs, but, lately, the mountains were getting easier to climb and the downhills weren’t that big of a drop. You didn’t need to stop and catch your breath or worry about hurting yourself on the way down.
You never felt lonely anymore. If Sunghoon or Jongseong weren’t free, you would call Nishimura Riki to catch grasshoppers in the creek with you, or you’d go play video games with Yang Jungwon. Kim Sunoo called you nearly every night to bother you, but you didn’t mind. You liked them; they made you feel important, like you were wanted.
“Come on,” Sunghoon teased Jungwon one day as he was blushing over some girl. “What are you being so shy about?”
“It’s embarrassing!” Jungwon complained, and you giggled over how a flush of red started creeping from his ears to his cheeks. “I’m not a smooth-talker like you are, Hoon.”
Sunghoon snorted. “I’m not a smooth-talker.”
“He’s practically, like, bulletproof,” Jongseong chimed in. “We can’t tease him about anyone. He just brushes it off.”
“I’m not bulletproof,” Sunghoon argued, but anyone could see the pride behind his expression. “I’m just not interested in anyone right now.”
You thought you had finally squashed the weird, gooey feeling that arose in your chest every now and then whenever Sunghoon came close. It was primarily due to the fact that Sunghoon was a respectful individual who didn’t try to weasel his way into your personal bubble as he pleased. That was probably for the best because you were sure your brain would go haywire if Sunghoon was too close for comfort.
And then there was Sim Jaeyun.
Jaeyun entered your circle pretty easily. With his radiant personality and warm presence, it was no shocker that he was accepted by the group instantly. He possessed some odd charm that drew people to him, and you couldn’t seem to figure just how that worked. You were almost jealous of him, honestly, with how much of a social butterfly he was.
Out of all of them, Jaeyun seemed to take a particular interest in you. It drove you crazy, though, and you couldn’t figure out how to get the guy to stop teasing and messing around with you. The others couldn’t figure it out either; you just weren’t as bright and bubbly as Jaeyun was, so it was odd that he kept nagging the one person whose wavelength wasn’t on par with his.
Sometimes it was cute—endearing even—but sometimes it was just flat-out irritating.
“Hey, Y/N.” Jake grinned, and his voice was all light and airy as he approached you. “What’re you doing for the summer break?”
“Probably sleeping in, hanging out with the others, and some more sleeping,” you replied, hardly sparing him a single glance.
You were too focused on clearing out your locker of all the books and papers you had tossed in during the year. Gotta keep this, gotta throw this away, gotta return this one, you rattled off in your head, mentally preserving a reminder of your various items. But Jaeyun knew how to push your buttons and grab your attention. He never took your deflection without retaliating back. That was one of the many reasons why you found it so difficult to be around him.
“And hanging out with Sunghoon, huh? Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it’s not there?”
You closed your locker with a swift swipe of your hand, revealing Jaeyun’s smug expression. Your eyes were practically bugging out of your sockets as you stared him down. Somehow, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you refused to spell it out for him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, but Jaeyun was already walking away from you. He was turned away, but you could visualize that stupid smirk of his like it was carved into your memory.
Jaeyun was smart. Too smart.
Your summer was filled with laughter, beach trips, and shy glances at Sunghoon. He drove you around places and you sat in the passenger’s seat next to him, toes curled in your shoes because you were so overjoyed. The car was always loud with music and laughter, and whenever it was silent, it was because everyone else was sleeping on each other after a long day of being outside.
You still masqueraded around, playing the role of Sunghoon’s best friend who definitely had zero romantic feelings toward him. It was quite hard when you had to pretend like your heart didn’t flutter whenever Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against yours.
“Sunghoon,” Jaeyun would complain, rousing laughter from everyone at how impatient he was, “are we there yet?”
“You’re so annoying,” Sunghoon retorted, clearly as a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh at his outburst, but it quickly died on your lips once you caught a glimpse of Jaeyun winking at you in the side mirror.
Jaeyun had a mischievous glint in his eyes when he said, “But you still love me, Hoon.”
Oh.
He was trying to make you jealous.
You fought down the urge to laugh at him. You might have been harboring a small crush, but you were never the jealous type, especially not over petty things like this. There was one little thing, however, that you couldn’t seem to shake.
For some reason, the anticipation to call Sunghoon by a nickname made you anxious. You never tested it on your tongue; it just floated around in your head. However, when you addressed him as Hoon one day, your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon responded with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun.
You grew closer to Jongseong, too. You didn’t feel like the third wheel with him and Sunghoon anymore; you felt like you were all at the same level of closeness. You and Jongseong hung out sometimes without Sunghoon, and despite a few awkward pauses in your interactions, you two warmed up quickly and you learned how to joke around with him easily.
Jongseong wasn’t all stiff and dry like you were initially afraid of; rather, he was surprisingly fun, and every time you learned something new about him, like how he adored cats but was allergic to them, you were even more amazed.
It wasn’t just Jongseong, though. You and Sunghoon grew far closer than ever before, whether that was for the better or worse.
Sunghoon only lived a street away, so it was convenient to hang out, and when you didn’t hang out with him, you two called each other. You could see him unravel in front of your eyes; he became visibly more comfortable when it was just the two of you—smiling, laughing, and bursting into laughter with tears of unrestrained happiness.
It wasn’t just the jubilant memories that tugged you two closer, though. It was also the despair.
In the first place, it was an accident that you even happened to break down in front of Sunghoon.
You two were in his room when it happened, and things were as they always had been before you sensed the calm before the storm. You joked around as usual and passed the time by playing video games. Sunghoon was perched on his usual spot in the corner of the bed. You looked over at him and realized how close you two had become as friends.
Friends. Just friends.
It was right at that moment when you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to just be Sunghoon’s best friend. You wanted to be the reason why he smiled, the one to make him blush, and the one he could share his pain and happiness with.
But your feelings were the scariest thing you’ve ever had to face, and you felt ashamed for even wanting to cross the line drawn between you and Sunghoon.
You couldn’t dare bring yourself to confess. You were almost positive that Sunghoon didn’t feel the same way, and you would be risking a fall-out in your current relationship if you admitted anything. What if Sunghoon ended up hating you? What if you lost him and all of your other friends? What if you weren’t the closest person to him anymore?
That was why you felt like Sunghoon was in another dimension, always a layer away. Always.
This was your own fault. You were the one who fell for your best friend. You were the one who did this to yourself. You broke your own heart.
You couldn’t help it when you started falling apart in front of him. It started with a broken cough that was supposed to cover up a sniffle. You were thankful for the loud battle sounds in the game that drowned out your quiet sobbing. But the video game didn’t stop Sunghoon from noticing your shaking hands gripping the controller.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”
Your voice is so shaky, so broken. Sunghoon knew you were crying before he could see or hear it.
He paused the game and put the controller down, but your eyes were still trained on the screen, hands shaking as you clutched the controller until you were white-knuckled. Sunghoon was on edge—panicked. Although, it was a different kind of panic from all the times you would be stressing over an assignment and Sunghoon would offer some lame piece of advice in return.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” His tone was frantic now as he searched your face for an answer.
You smiled, although faint melancholy was tucked away in the curl of your lip. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Now, I know that’s not true.”
Your smile broke. It was so unfortunate that Park Sunghoon had to have a heart so big.
You could almost hear Jaeyun in the back of your head: Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it isn’t there?
You started crying, and it wasn’t something soft with a gradual crescendo. It was loud and all at once, like a wounded animal. Your hands shook more, and you finally dropped your controller, burying your fingers into your roots, as if tugging your hair hard enough would make it all stop, as if it would hurt more than the ache in your chest.
Sunghoon was quick to get off his bed and slide to the ground, right next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and it only made you feel ashamed. You stiffened up and shrunk back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how you tensed up at his touch. You could hear your own heartbeat, but you were pretty sure you were hyperventilating at a faster pace than the pounding in your chest. The world under you moved, bounced, so you decided to lean into Sunghoon.
The logical half of your brain informed you in a calm, clipped manner that you were having a panic attack. The other half meanwhile was screaming and shutting itself down.
Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste, you tried telling yourself, but your senses overwhelmed you completely. Your tears were blurring your vision, you couldn’t hear anything but your sobs, and your lungs felt as if they were on fire.
“Y/N, talk to me,” came the softest voice that eased the painful ringing in your ears.
“I can’t,” you stuttered out. “Not right now.”
You wish you hadn’t let it get to this point. You were completely humiliating yourself in front of Sunghoon right now. This was the one thing you couldn’t let him find out about.
Your heavy gasps grew more labored. You then curled into yourself, sweaty hands tugging and knotting at your hair. And, shit, you couldn’t breathe.
“I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated again and again, like a broken record. The desperation in your voice was so ugly.
There was something fierce in Sunghoon’s eyes, like he was ready to protect you from anything or anyone that tried to hurt you, but there was also softness in his voice. “You know, you can tell me anything. Whatever it is, I’ll hear you out. I don’t want you to suffer alone, Y/N.”
With a small smile, he added, “It’s just you and me, right? The two of us against the world.”
That only made you cry even more. You just replayed Sunghoon’s words in your head, like it was your favorite song.
“Alright.” You breathed in real deep, through the aching chest and everything. “It’s really stupid.”
“If it makes you cry this hard, it can’t be stupid.”
You bit your lip, embarrassed. “I think I like someone—someone I can’t have.”
Sunghoon didn’t respond for a moment, and it rattled your brain. He probably was wondering this underwhelming confession warranted a breakdown from you, and you couldn’t blame him. However, it was the only way you could avoid lying to your best friend without giving him the whole truth.
For a split second, you wondered if Sunghoon simply just didn’t hear you. But you didn’t want to repeat yourself; you didn’t like repeating yourself.
To your surprise, Sunghoon just smiled. “Do I know them?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were stringing together in your head to form a coherent sentence.
“Uh, well, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” Sunghoon continued. He flushed and flicked his thumb under his nose—an awkward mannerism of his that you grew to love over the years. “Actually, I think we’re in the same boat. There’s someone I like, too. Someone I can’t have.”
His words bounced in your skull. Settled. Bounced again.
“Really?” you spluttered out, and it took you a moment to recuperate from the heavy sadness that was filling your chest. You brought yourself to ask, “I mean, you’re so popular, so why don’t you just ask them out?”
“Can’t.”
“Why not? Are they dating someone else?”
There was a sad smile on Sunghoon’s lips when he answered, “No, Jongseong likes her, too.”
At the age of sixteen, you realized that you couldn’t get over Sunghoon, but you could suppress your heartbreak and lingering feelings.
It physically hurt to think about how deeply ingrained your concept of friendship was with him, and the possibility that Park Sunghoon would never think of you as more than a friend. You two had shared too many experiences—worn each other’s shoes and walked miles—to ever become more than what you were.
Nothing would ever change.
You were hanging out by a creek near Jongseong’s house. It was just the two of you—no Jaeyun to poke fun at you, and no Sunghoon to distract you. It was just the two of you, and it was somehow so easy to be with Jongseong like this. You could laugh with your stomach and smile with your eyes without feeling the need to close up or shut down.
“It’s getting annoying, isn’t it?” Jongseong asked under his breath at one point. When you shot him a puzzled look, he clarified, “Sunghoon.”
You picked up on Jongseong’s annoyance toward Sunghoon over the past few weeks, but his words confirmed your suspicions now. You wondered if it was geared toward the girl they both liked—whoever she was.
You never thought to ask, mainly because you didn’t want to know. Either way, if Sunghoon wanted to share, he would’ve done so already.
You swallowed down the lump in your throat, trying to grab at words and shove them together, but you genuinely didn’t know what to say.
It had always been you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. You never thought about them turning on each other. The very idea made you feel sick to your stomach.
Over the past week, you had seen Sunghoon’s indifference toward Jongseong, but you were too afraid to ask about it. Your friend group was slow to pick up on it, but you noticed the way Sunghoon would purposely avoid conversing with Jongseong, or the way Jongseong would walk quickly past him if they crossed paths. It was odd, though, because everyone knew that Sunghoon and Jongseong were the best of friends—inseparable. How could you hold onto someone for so long and just let go of them like that?
You recalled that Jongseong and Jungwon went over to talk to Sunghoon about his moody behavior, but Jongseong never told you whether the talk went well or not. You figured it just never happened because Jungwon called in sick the very next day.
You prayed that he would hurry up and get over his cold. He had been out sick all week, which checked out since everyone was getting sick around this time of the year. Jungwon would know how to get Sunghoon and Jongseong to reconcile. He was always the friend that helped everyone patch things up.
“You guys are best friends,” was all you could say. “You’ll make up in a few days, right?”
Jongseong clicked his tongue loud enough to make your skin crawl.
But you didn’t want to drop it this time, you asked, “Seriously, what happened between you guys?”
For a moment, you wondered if you should’ve brought up what Sunghoon confessed to you—about him and Jongseong liking the same girl. But this couldn’t have been about that; Sunghoon would never let a girl get between his friendships.
“Sunghoon’s hiding something dark,” Jongseong blurted out. “I don’t think I can get him out of this one.”
“Something dark? What is it?”
“I don’t really know—”
“Jongseong,” you cut in. “If you know something, then just say it. He’s my best friend, too.”
Jongseong shifted uncomfortably, restless. He was silent for a long period of time, so you just waited for him to collect his thoughts. Uneasiness bursted from the tips of your fingers and crawled under your skin. You felt the heat of the sun against your face, so you looked up and covered your eyes with a hand, blinking back red.
“If Sunghoon did something unforgivable,” he started in a murmur, “would you forgive him?”
“I don’t know,” was all you could say.
“Yeah,” Jongseong replied, his terse words nearly making you flinch. “I don’t know, either.”
The sun grew hotter against your face, and all you could see was blood red behind your eyes.
You didn’t know how exactly it started, but you slowly started to find solace in Jaeyun.
You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to care for him a little more than the people around you. You were starting to get swayed by him—the things he said, the way he looked at you—and it scared you a little.
But Jaeyun felt safe. He felt like home.
You two called at night, sometimes. You weren’t normally one to be vulnerable in front of others, but you shed some tears in front of Jaeyun a couple of times.
The only other person you had cried in front of was Sunghoon.
“It’s kinda sad,” Jaeyun told you one day. You two were spending the afternoon studying together at his place, and you were feeling self-conscious because you were starting to regret not dressing a little cuter. “I’ve known you for a year, but we’ve only gotten close now.”
“I don’t think either of us cared about deepening our friendship back then.”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “You think I didn’t want to be closer? How do you think I picked up on you liking Sunghoon?”
“Because I was obvious about it?”
“No, idiot, because I like you.”
You blinked a few times until you fully processed his words. I like you, your brain repeated, and then you reprocessed the information.
No, there was an ‘idiot’ before that. Not only were you liked, but he thought you were stupid, as well.
You became painfully aware of your knees touching Jaeyun’s, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of him liking you romantically. You had never been in this position. Since your crush on Sunghoon had been one-sided for the past few years, you never expected to be on the receiving end.
“You…” you trailed off, floundering to find something to say—something that wouldn’t make you sound stupid or mean. You settled with, “You, too?”
His eyes beamed with hope. “For a year now.”
Your world was so small before. It was just you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong.
Before you could even wonder if there was space in your heart for Jaeyun, you realized that you had already let him burrow his way in there.
“Can I kiss you?” Jaeyun asked.
You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, and every once of nervousness slipped away. You always thought you could attain this level of closeness with Sunghoon, but maybe your relationship with him was just that fragile—where you could just grab the string binding you two together and snip it completely.
But it was different with Jaeyun.
“Yeah,” you answered, smiling, “you can.”
And then, with Jaeyun’s breath fanning your lips, you felt Sunghoon completely dissolve from the impounding thoughts racking your brain. Right now, it was Jaeyun and only Jaeyun.
You leaned in first, cupping his cheek and pressing your lips against Jaeyun’s soft ones. It was weird, kissing for the first time, but he leaned into it instantly so that your movements were less awkward and more guided.
A fire blazed inside of you, burning hotter than imaginable. You didn’t expect Jaeyun to drive you this crazy—to crave more, to want more. You drew back before you slid your hand into his hair, although you were tempted to go further when his pillowy lips peppered soft kisses along your jawline.
But you didn’t want to go overboard or ruin anything by going too fast. You settled for leaving another chaste kiss against his lips before pulling back, and you were delighted when you saw how pleased Jaeyun was. He was practically glowing.
From then on, you and Jaeyun had a relationship that extended past something platonic, but it wasn’t like you two were official. Naturally, you ended up confiding in him over everything.
While Sunghoon still held a place in your heart as your first love, you grew to care for Jaeyun, who kindled a gentler fire in you. Sunghoon, on the other hand, left you burned and scarred.
You didn’t want to rush into a relationship, mainly because you didn’t want Jaeyun to think he was a rebound, and he respected that. So he waited for you to figure out your feelings and let your heart choose who was right for you.
You weren’t stupid, though; you knew that chasing after Sunghoon was a hopeless cause.
You and Jaeyun drifted about in a limbo-state of your relationship. You two went on a couple of dates, got to know each other at a deeper level, and spent a lot of time together. He became the person you thought about when you were falling asleep and when you woke up in the morning.
You two got along surprisingly well, and you wondered why you ever had doubts about him in the beginning. Sure, Jaeyun still got on your nerves at times, but you just found it funny after the wave of annoyance passed.
Your friends started to talk about how close you two were and frequently brought up the idea of you two dating. Of course, you always denied it, enjoying the privacy you and Jaeyun had.
But as your relationship blossomed into something more serious, you decided that you didn’t want things to stay casual any longer. So, you asked him out, and Jaeyun, being the lovesick puppy he was, accepted without a second thought.
You thought about how much had changed in your life. Sunghoon stopped hanging out with you completely, resorting to being alone most of the time. Everyone was concerned about his behavior, but after several attempts of failed confrontation, they all collectively gave up. You and Jongseong still kept an eye on him, using roundabout ways to find out how he was doing; it was the most you two could do given how little opportunity you had to talk to him.
You didn’t share many classes with Jongseong anymore, but you two were still close, even after your “two of us against the world” friendship with Sunghoon had gone to shit.
Jongseong was kind, though, and despite how he was rough around the edges, he was gentle enough.
But he knew that Sunghoon was hiding something dark, and that alone made you somewhat nervous around him.
You felt unsettled the entire day, but when your group chat started flooding with texts about Jungwon in the middle of the night, you felt an icy chill travel down your spine.
It was all over the news. The whole story about him being down with the flu was just a cover-up while authorities were looking for him.
You felt nauseous.
HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT FOUND DEAD NEAR WOODS. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.
The 16-year-old boy was found dead at the scene. The parents of the deceased student have identified him as Yang Jungwon. As of now, there are no leads, but authorities have ruled the case as a homicide.
Police have asked anyone with information to contact their local police department.
You read the headline again. Over and over again until your vision was blurry and the words were convoluted. Your fingers were raw and bitten down to the nail bed by the time you were able to put your phone down so that you could just cry into your hands.
By the time you got around to reading the details, grimacing at the descriptions of mutilation done to Jungwon’s body and how his body had been decomposing for weeks now, you had to run to your toilet and dry heave everything out.
You weren’t the closest to Jungwon or anything, but imagining such a bright person meet such a horrific end wasn’t easy to process. For hours, you ignored all of the calls and texts and attempts to comfort from your parents. You stared straight at your wall—so terrified that your chest hurt and your breathing was ragged.
Later that night, when the world was quiet and dreaming, you received a text from Sunghoon.
sunghoon: Hey sunghoon: I’ve been thinking about you. Are you doing okay? sunghoon: I haven’t been a good friend lately, I’m sorry sunghoon: It’s still the two of us against the world
There was a time when those words made you feel like you were on top of the world, soaring high over the clouds.
Now, though, all you could feel was a horrible sensation of dread.
It had been months since Sunghoon and Jongseong’s falling out.
You were seventeen now, but you felt hollower as you aged. Sunghoon showed up to school and lingered within your group silently, only contributing when spoken to directly. He didn’t approach you anymore or ask to hang out after school. Actually, no one knew what he did after school. He would head straight home and then go completely off the radar.
Gone off the rails, as Sunoo called it.
You cried several nights over it. You felt like not only was your best friend slipping away from you, but Sunghoon’s disconnect from the group would soon make you pull away, too. You had Jaeyun, of course, but nothing felt the same anymore. With Jungwon dead, the group felt tense and gloomy. You all started hanging out with other people and slowly stopped responding in the group chat.
Part of you realized that Sunghoon’s detachment was because you didn’t reply to him the night Jungwon’s murder was publicized. Back then, you suspected that Sunghoon could have been behind it, judging by your conversation with Jongseong earlier. It all added up in your head, but the only thing that was stopping you from believing it fully was that you couldn’t fathom Sunghoon ever doing something so evil.
“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” you whispered into the phone, even though there wasn’t anyone around that you were worried about listening in. “He’s shutting me out now. Something must’ve happened to him.”
You heard Jaeyun hum and contemplate for a moment before he replied, “Maybe he just needs space.”
“I think something happened between him and Jongseong,” you admitted, “but I can’t imagine Jongseong saying anything that would make Sunghoon ignore him for this long.”
“It must’ve been serious, then.”
“But… but it’s Sunghoon; he’s”—you paused as you recalled what Jongseong once called him—“bulletproof.”
There was a pause.
“I guess that’s the problem with being bulletproof,” Jaeyun spoke gravely. “People think they can just keep shooting.”
What Jaeyun told you that night kept replaying in your head over the next week—over and over again. It hit you a little too hard, and you waited to confront Sunghoon about it. You wanted him to know that he could be vulnerable, too. But you couldn’t even speak to your best friend these days. He had been avoiding everyone like the plague.
You assumed it had something to do with Jongseong, but when you talked to him about it, he was hesitant to get into it.
“You’re the closest person to him,” you told him. Today was colder, and you rubbed your hands together for warmth as you and Jongseong stood by the gates after school. “I think if you guys sit down and talk things out, then he’ll start being himself again.”
“I was the closest person to him,” Jongseong corrected with a scoff. “Plus, there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Nothing to talk about? What about your friendship?”
You couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth. Anger roiled deep in your chest, and you were too furious to realize that Jongseong only looked dejected in response. If he wasn’t going to explain what happened, then you couldn’t understand what was eating away at their relationship.
“There is no friendship, Y/N,” he said slowly, in a voice so low that it sounded like the calm before the storm. His words made everything come to a halt, and you felt like time itself had frozen. “I suggest you let go of Sunghoon, too. You’re hanging onto someone who’s beyond help.”
“But I don’t know what you know!” you exclaimed. “I can’t let go of someone just like that, Jongseong. I need answers.”
He was quiet before he asked, “Do you remember when Sunghoon stayed over at your house once when we were fourteen?”
“When his house caught on fire?” you recalled, but the memory was sort of hazy for you. All you remembered was how you were in complete awe that Sunghoon was unscathed and unbothered by the incident.
“Yeah,” Jongseong’s voice was grim as he said, “and I bet he never told you that he was the one who started that fire on purpose.”
It was like a punch to the gut. You could only shake your head blankly, lips parted in disbelief.
He continued, “When we were fifteen, he thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught—”
No.
“—and, at sixteen, he actually did it.”
No. No.
“Jongseong,” you whispered, your voice smaller than you intended, “was it…”
“Jungwon?” He said the name so carefully, as if the world would explode into nothingness if he did. You had been gnawing at your lip so hard that you drew blood, yet that couldn’t distract you from the haunted look in Jongseong’s eyes. “Yeah, he killed Jungwon.”
You felt like you had just been doused with ice-cold water.
“I shouldn’t have brought Jungwon with me. I knew Sunghoon was gonna do it to someone, but I didn’t know…” He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath that racked his entire body. “I didn’t think it would be him. I brought Jungwon to talk him out of whatever was going on, not to…” Jongseong stopped himself again, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears that had started to fall.
It’s you and me, Sunghoon’s voice chimed in your head. The two of us against the world.
You thought your world had been shattered, but then you realized that it had actually been broken for a long time.
That night, you asked Jaeyun to come over, and he arrived at your door in record speed.
You two were sitting on your bed, controllers in hand, but the screen was off and neither of you were even in the mood to play. You must have trusted him more than anyone by now because the words started spilling with no preamble. You ended up explaining most of your conversation with Jongseong after you had Jaeyun swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell a soul.
Of course, you didn’t expect any normal person to compliantly come to terms with the fact that their friend murdered their other friend, but Jaeyun was a bit different when it came to you. Instead of accusing you of lying or denying the truth, he believed you wholeheartedly. You couldn’t tell if he was patient with you, or if he was just horrified by everything you had told him.
It had been an entire year since Jungwon had been found dead and the case closed as an unsolved murder, but your words sucker punched Jaeyun like it had just happened yesterday.
Jaeyun’s tone was urgent when he said, “We have to tell someone.” When he noticed your hesitation, he shook his head at you with a disapproving frown. “Y/N, this is serious. This is Jungwon, my best friend.”
Your mouth went dry. “I-I know, it’s just—”
Jaeyun didn’t have to cut you off. You froze right when you saw tears welling up in his eyes.
“Y/N.” He said your name gently, but you still flinched. You had never heard your name being called with so much despair. “If Sunghoon really murdered Jungwon, then I can’t keep this a secret.”
“Give me a few days,” you pleaded. “I just want to hear Sunghoon out. No matter what he says, I’ll come with you to testify.”
He shook his head immediately, eyes fierce. “You are not going anywhere near Sunghoon—not after what he did to Jungwon.”
“Then let me ask Jong—”
“Y/N,” Jaeyun interrupted, letting his hand slide over yours. His eyes were full of concern when he asked, “How do you know you can trust Jongseong?”
Your hands started to shake.
“Y/N,” he said again, “if Jongseong took Jungwon to see Sunghoon, what do you think he did after Sunghoon killed him?”
Your pulse raced.
“If Jongseong knew about Sunghoon’s behavior for this long, why hasn’t he ever done anything?”
All this time, you thought your world had grown a little bigger ever since you met Sunghoon and Jongseong.
But you were living in a fantasy by yourself.
Not so long after your talk with Jaeyun, your phone rang. You were in the middle of finishing up your history paper when you saw the caller ID flash across your screen.
It was Sunghoon.
You didn’t even give yourself time to think about it first. You just picked up the phone immediately. It was an old habit; you saw Sunghoon and accepted the call without a second thought. You never expected Sunghoon to ever call you again, so you didn’t exactly have any practice in rejecting his calls.
“Y/N?” came the familiar voice of Park Sunghoon—gentle, but almost like he was a caged animal.
“Sunghoon?” You swallowed hard. “Uh, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, but you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. “It was supposed to be the two of us against the world.”
You frowned. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?”
Instead of answering your question, Sunghoon hesitated before saying, “We should catch up sometime. You can read part of the story I’m writing.”
You paused, and before he could ask if you were still there, you replied, “Yeah, sure.”
“Right.” Sunghoon sounded like he had more to say. You almost didn’t catch it because he was so quiet, and the last thing you heard before he hung up was a quiet, “Bye, then.”
Your deepest regret was answering your phone later that night.
It was hours after Sunghoon called you. Jongseong was more of a texter, so you were surprised when his caller ID flashed across your screen. It was definitely not a reasonable hour for a high school student to be out and about, but nothing could have prepared you for what you heard on the other side of the line.
Jongseong was sobbing.
The sound chilled you to the bone. You never heard Jongseong cry, but this didn’t feel normal; this cry was frantic and mangled, like he was spiraling out of control.
“Y/N, you have to come over quickly,” Jongseong begged through broken sobs and heavy breaths. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”
“Jongseong, calm down. Tell me what’s happening.”
“You have my location, right? Just hurry. Please.” And he hung up.
In a daze, you called Jaeyun and asked him to pick you up.
“I really think we should just call the cops,” Jaeyun offered, almost pleading. “I don’t know what’s going on with Jongseong, but this sounds sketchy, Y/N.”
Pitted fear festered in your throat. You knew something was off, but you weren’t sure if you could handle losing Jongseong, too. You had gotten so used to not being alone that you were paranoid of returning to having no one.
“Call them as soon as we get there,” you said. “I just need to make sure Jongseong’s okay.”
Jaeyun pressed his lips into a thin, grim line, but he kept driving.
It was a port that Jongseong’s location directed you to, and discomfort crept into your limbs as soon as Jaeyun pulled into the area. Maybe you should’ve stayed back where it was safer and let the police handle everything, but you must have been a fool. It was just that Jongseong’s cries echoed in your head whenever you started having second thoughts.
You could hear him before you saw him.
Jongseong’s soft sobs could be heard from behind a metal storage unit, and you and Jaeyun inched closer carefully after getting out of the car. Your heart dropped to your stomach; you were dreading the worst, and when you turned the corner into the closed area Jongseong was in, you realized that the sight before you was the worst it could get.
Sunghoon’s body.
You waited for his chest to rise, but not even a shallow breath escaped his blue-tinged lips.
It took you a moment to reorient yourself and realize that Sunghoon wasn’t just passed out, he was dead.
You saw the blood pooling around him and the wounds piercing his torso, staining his white shirt, but you wanted to believe your mind was playing tricks on you. You convinced yourself that Sunghoon was going to get up any second now and start laughing, and then Jongseong would join in and tell you it was all a joke.
But that wasn’t the case.
It wasn’t fear that overtook you—not an overwhelm of emotion—it was numbness. You stared at Sunghoon’s body as he bled out onto the concrete, blood pooling into the cracks in the ground. You felt an odd sort of disconnect.
You tilted your head to see Sunghoon’s face turned to the side against the concrete. His blank eyes just stared into nothingness, and you realized that you would never get to see Sunghoon’s warm, sincere gaze ever again. You were never going to see his bright smile. You were never going to hear his contagious laugh. You were never going to read the wonderful stories he wrote.
You supposed your life was always meant to be a tragedy.
“H-Hoon?” Jaeyun choked up behind you. He was staring down at Sunghoon’s lifeless body in horror before his expression was slowly replaced with anger. “Jongseong, what the hell did you do?!”
“It was self-defense, man,” Jongseong whimpered out before his body was racked with sobs again. “He pulled a knife on me out of nowhere. I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” He exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”
You didn’t say anything. You just stared at Sunghoon.
“Come on, guys,” Jongseong pleaded. “I can’t go to fucking prison. I’m eighteen now; it’s not juvie, it’s a life sentence.” You didn’t know what he was getting at until he requested the unthinkable, “Help me get rid of the body.”
You wanted to puke. You eyed the shiny metal soaked in blood that Jongseong was clutching. You were never going to see Sunghoon again. You were never going to hang out with him over the weekend. You were never going to hear his voice again.
“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “What the fuck are you gonna do when they realize he’s gone missing? You just killed someone! This is on you, Jongseong, not us!”
“Are you going to help me get rid of it or not?!” Jongseong tugged at his hair. “Just help me throw him off the dock, and we can all walk away from this.”
You watched helplessly, horror-stricken. “I… I can’t.”
“The body’s gonna float and show up somewhere,” Jaeyun countered with stony eyes. “They’re gonna catch you.”
Jongseong looked terrifyingly pale. You wondered if it was just the glow of the moon, or if he was also holding in his urge to puke. “I’ll just cut his stomach so he sinks.”
Disgusted, Jaeyun scowled. “You’re a monster.”
You watched as Jongseong tried hauling Sunghoon’s body before giving up and dragging him by the legs. You shot Jaeyun a warning look, mouthing for him to call the police before Jongseong noticed. He lingered back to do so while you followed Jongseong to plead him to stop. His arms gave out as soon as he stepped onto the planks, and he let Sunghoon’s lower half collapse onto the solid wood.
“Y/N, help me cut open his stomach,” he ordered, hardly sparing you a glance. If he did, he would have seen how horrified you were.
“Oh,” you said, voice wavering, “that’s… that—that’s his…”
“Y/N, help me.”
“Jongseong,” you begged, “please… please stop.”
He paid you no attention, though. You felt ghastly as Jongseong used a paring knife to make an incision on Sunghoon’s stomach. The smell was putrid. You screwed your eyes shut as the metallic smell of blood invaded your nostrils. Your nausea plunged into your gut, and you had to fight the pervasive urge to hurl.
A stream of Sunghoon’s blood made its way to your shoes, staining the soles.
Jongseong was cutting your old best friend open.
The dread had kept you numb for this long, but it was when reality settled in that you finally lost it. You couldn’t handle it anymore and pitched forward over the edge of the dock, throwing up until you were heaving up bile. You sobbed through it all, mournful and low, and your friend paid you no attention while he was cutting through flesh.
When Jongseong was done, he wiped at his cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood. Sunghoon’s blood. You stared at him, and you had never been more terrified of him in your life.
And then you really noticed Jongseong. You noticed how Sunghoon’s blood was coated all over his hands, how he hardly had any scratches or bruises on his body, how merciless his eyes were as he stared down at his old best friend.
The realization that washed over you was frightening.
“Sunghoon didn’t actually try to kill you, did he?” you managed to warble out. “You killed him yourself.”
A deep silence from him followed—heavy and wretched. Sunghoon’s blood was so dark that it nearly looked black under the dim light, and you could only stare helplessly until Jaeyun made his way to the dock, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders.
Jongseong turned to you and Jaeyun, clutching his knife tightly. You could hardly recognize the boy in front of you. You never truly understood the term “paralyzed by fear” until you saw the crazed look in Jongseong’s eyes—cold and haunting.
Jaeyun’s eyes glistened with tears and his throat was thick with emotion when he said, “Jongseong, please—just hang on and… and we can talk this out.”
The hand gripping his knife started shaking. “You won’t tell anyone, right? You guys won’t snitch on me, right?” When there was no response from you or Jaeyun, Jongseong’s desperation grew stronger. He turned to you with his eyes big and terrified. “Y/N, come on, we’ve known each other for years. You know I—”
“Shut up!” Jaeyun yelled. His protective grip on you tightened. “Cut the bullshit, Jongseong. The police are gonna be here soon, and they’re gonna take you straight to prison once they see what you did to Hoon.”
It was like a switch flipped in him. A distant part of your mind wondered if you could get everyone out of this—somehow bring Sunghoon back and go back to your normal life—but you immediately shut down that fantasy as soon as Jongseong’s eyes darkened.
In the darkness, you could make out an amused expression on his face. His smile took on a cold edge.
“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll just have to get rid of you two before the police get here, then.”
You felt like your world slowed. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears. You could tell Jongseong was walking closer to you while Jaeyun was desperately trying to tug you and get you to run, but you were frozen in place. You wanted to believe that your old friend wouldn’t actually hurt you, but then you didn’t know what to think when he raised his knife.
It had all happened so fast. Too fast.
In your brief struggle as Jongseong tried to stab you, you heard a sharp gasp that tore you from your haze, like you had just been drenched in cold water. Brutally sober. You tried to push Jongseong off of you, but he was too heavy, too limp. Jaeyun shouldered his way between you two and shoved Jongseong back, grimacing when his skull hit the wood with a thud.
You heard one last, strangled gasp from Jongseong before he stopped breathing. The last star in his eyes twinkled until it dimmed for good.
Jongseong laid flat on the dock with his knife piercing his chest.
As you heard police sirens go off in the distance, Jaeyun wrapped his arms around you before you finally broke down into his chest.
Your best friends were dead and your world was broken beyond repair.
“So, it was self-defense?” Detective Lee asked, his piercing eyes boring right into yours. “Purely accidental? You had no intention of harming Park Jongseong?”
You shook your head. “I still couldn’t process the fact that he killed Sunghoon, so I didn’t think he’d actually try to hurt me.”
You wanted to cry. You bit your chapped lip, but all you could taste was blood that you doubted was even there. You couldn’t even say Sunghoon’s name without seeing that radiant smile of his stained with deep red.
You sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ve told you everything I know. Can I see Jaeyun now?”
Detective Lee eyed you for a moment. Finally, you saw some sort of sympathy in his gaze, although you felt sort of repulsed that you were being pitied in this state. The detective muttered something about him being back later, and he left the interrogation room, leaving you handcuffed to the table.
A minute passed by. Another. Several more.
You were pretty sure it had been at least an hour or two of staring at the wall, but the passage of time felt meaningless now. You could wait hours, even days, but you didn’t think you would ever be ready to confront what cruel reality awaited you.
You were so tired of everything, so exhausted that you didn’t even think about your parents until now. Were they here? Were they informed about your arrest? They must have been worried sick all night.
When the door opened, your head shot up.
“You’re free to go, Y/N,” Detective Lee said, pulling out a key to uncuff you from the table.
You were frozen. You just stared up at Detective Lee with your jaw hung open.
“I know this took awhile, but there was no security footage at the scene to confirm your story,” he elaborated. “But your stories matched up, and we found more evidence in the trunk of Jongseong’s car that he had been planning this murder.”
He helped you to your feet and escorted you out of the room. You were able to pick up everything they took from you before you were locked up in the holding cell—your keys, wallet, and your phone. Then, you were taken to the waiting room where your parents were seated at the far end.
At the sight of you, they all but leapt from their seats to rush over, hands cupping your face and arms embracing your weak, battered figure. There was so much love in their eyes, and their fear over possibly losing their daughter replaced any anger they had toward the situation. However, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you ended up getting an earful the next day.
“Mom, Dad,” you whimpered out, suddenly overcome with emotion. You were immediately aware of how weak and pathetic you felt. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Shh, it’s okay,” your father silenced you by rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Jaeyun’s family wanted us to let you know that he’s okay, too. They just took him home about ten minutes ago.”
You were slightly disappointed. Part of you was hoping that he would wait for you, but you figured Jaeyun’s family would have wanted to go home right away. You definitely would have felt better if you got to see your boyfriend in the flesh to make sure he was alive and well, but you weren’t going to complain now.
There was still a ghost of a smile on your lips as your parents walked you to their car. They gushed and gushed about how glad they were about you being safe and sound, and about how they never would’ve expected Jongseong of all people to end up being a murderer.
You were happy to be alive, of course, but you felt so empty.
You pulled out your phone to try and text Jaeyun, but, as you thought, it was dead.
“Mom, can I use your phone?” you asked, and you dialed Jaeyun’s number immediately as soon as she handed it to you. You had it memorized because it was a combination of numbers that was fairly easy to remember.
It rang four times, and by the fifth ring, you were scared that he wouldn’t pick up. But then, it beeped.
“Hello?” Jaeyun answered. “Who is this?”
It was like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders once you heard his voice. Despite Detective Lee informing you that Jaeyun was, indeed, alive, you felt more reassured hearing it from your boyfriend himself. You wanted to cry then and there, but you didn’t want to make your parents worry unnecessarily.
You forgot you were even supposed to respond when Jaeyun spoke again, “Is anyone there?”
“Jaeyun, it’s me,” you mumbled softly. “Y/N.”
You heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
Jaeyun gave you the breakdown of how his experience went, which took a completely different turn than yours. After receiving medical attention, they brought him back to his holding cell to sleep for hardly a few hours. The detective interrogating Jaeyun tried to build trust with him, telling him they wanted to help and just needed his confession. They lied about already having evidence that he killed Jongseong, but Jaeyun denied it and told them the whole story. He was only free to leave after they cross-examined his story with yours.
“Jesus,” you whispered into the phone, breathing out a small laugh. By now, you were already parked at your house and walking to your front door. “This is so fucked up.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, “but we’ll get through it.”
“Yeah, Jae. Us against the world.”
Sim Jaeyun spent nine hours being questioned by authorities.
He knew the nature of the crime that occurred was complex, and he was still reeling from the loss and betrayal that left a deep wound in his chest, but there was something that terrified him still.
It wasn’t the murderous look in Park Jongseong’s eyes, or the blood completely drained from Park Sunghoon’s face.
Rather, what scared Jaeyun the most was that he spent so long pining after you and getting to know you at a deeper level. He genuinely fell hard for you, even though you had monsters in the closet. He thought he knew almost everything about you, like how you were a terrible liar.
Yet, you had just lied about everything that went down last night for nine hours straight.
What scared Jaeyun the most was how clueless he had been about who you really were.
Truthfully, he was also in the wrong for going along with your lie. It was definitely going to bite him back one day. In the moment, though, he was far too much of a coward to go against you. Although he was able to get Jungwon the justice he deserved and allowed his family to finally be at peace with answers, Jaeyun still felt horrible. He just remembered the desperate look in your eyes as your face and hands were stained with blood, begging him to protect you.
Jaeyun’s downfall must have been that he liked you too much to say no.
It was true that Jongseong called you in a panic, begging you to show up at the port as quickly as possible, and it was true that you wanted Jaeyun to drive you there instead of calling the cops first.
Jaeyun knew deep down that you were making the wrong choice, but he had hope that you knew what you were doing. Truthfully, although he liked you a lot, he was still wary about how you felt toward Sunghoon. He just couldn’t understand how you were still unconsciously protecting him after hearing what happened to Jungwon. He knew that you wanted answers, but Jaeyun was worried about how you’d react once you got them.
The real story—the one neither of you told the detectives—never started with Park Jongseong killing Park Sunghoon.
It really started when you and Jaeyun arrived at the port to see that no one was around. It was eerily quiet, and Jaeyun was starting to regret not turning around and heading straight for the police station. When you two got out of the car, you walked several feet down the line of shipping containers before returning to Jaeyun with a confused look on your face.
“I don’t see either of them,” you said, but then your eyes grew unfocused as you stared at something—or, rather, someone—behind Jaeyun.
He turned around to see Jongseong walking over to the two of you in a calm fashion, as if he had no other care in the world. The port was relatively an open space, so he had no idea where Jongseong could have emerged from. Jaeyun rolled his neck, more frustrated than anything.
“Jongseong!” you called out.
When he neared you two, Jongseong shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, you brought your boyfriend.”
“What’s going on?” you urged. “Is it Sunghoon? Did something happen to him?”
“Wow, that hurts, Y/N.” Jongseong barked out a laugh, but nothing about his tone sounded sincere. “I call you in the middle of the night and all you can think about is Hoon? Wow. How do you feel about that, Jaeyun?”
Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just glowered.
Nothing about this felt right.
You stammered, “I-I just assumed—”
“Put yourself in my shoes,” Jongseong cut you off with little regard for your excuses. “Sorry to say this in front of your boyfriend, but imagine how I feel when the girl I’ve liked for years only cares about my best friend.”
The air went still.
Your voice was barely a whisper when you asked, “Excuse me?”
Jaeyun pursed his lips together, and, for a moment, he thought his tongue would start bleeding if he bit it any harder. Sunghoon liked the girl that Jongseong liked, and if that girl was you, then Jaeyun was worried that he already lost you. He knew for months that he would never truly have you the way he wanted. Your feelings for Sunghoon were stronger, and although Jaeyun was able to pack his insecurities into a tiny ball and shove it down his throat, it was all coming out now.
His uneasy heart shattered into a million pieces once he caught a glimpse of your expression—hopeful and longing. And it wasn’t for Jongseong; it was for Sunghoon.
“Now that’s a great expression,” came an overly-enthusiastic voice from Jaeyun’s right.
Park Sunghoon was leaning against one of the shipping containers, arms folded across his chest before he uncrossed them and made his way toward the three of you. He must have been hiding behind the containers this whole time because Jaeyun hadn’t seen him at all before.
The situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Jaeyun wanted to shrink back when Sunghoon suddenly took great interest in him, keeping his eyes fixed on him instead of you or Jongseong. He used to have such bright and happy smiles, but, this time, Jaeyun almost thought his grin had been sliced into his face with a blade.
Sunghoon slung an arm over Jongseong’s shoulder. “Wow, Jae, now I really wanna see the look on your face when you’re in total despair,” he crooned, almost mocking. Jaeyun’s blood rushed in his ears when Sunghoon’s tongue swiped across one of his fangs. “You should’ve seen the look on Jungwon’s face.”
Jaeyun lunged before he could even think, but he stopped himself as soon as you held onto him, stopping him from hitting Sunghoon.
And that was when he knew he already lost you.
“Don’t,” you insisted.
“Are you serious?” he breathed out, brows knitting into a frown as he looked down at you.
Shame clung to your throat, keeping your mouth shut, but Jaeyun was more concerned now about the sharp blade pointed at his throat.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Jongseong had a paring knife pointed straight at him, and Sunghoon’s smile never faltered. They were clearly on the same side. There was a reason why Jeongseong never did anything about Sunghoon after killing Jungwon.
Jaeyun felt stupid for not putting it together earlier.
“I’d listen to your girlfriend,” Jongseong warned. His voice crawled all over him, freezing Jaeyun cold to the bone. “You might as well hear us out before you die here tonight.”
“Can’t exactly let you two run off now that you know what happened to Jungwon,” Sunghoon added.
“Jungwon was our friend,” Jaeyun hissed. “He was my best friend, you sick freak! What did you do to him? Why? He’s never… he never did anything wrong!”
“You’re right. He didn’t do anything wrong,” Sunghoon confirmed, surprisingly calm and collected. “In fact, he exceeded my expectations. It was a great performance, actually.” Jaeyun clenched his fist tight—so tight that his nails dug into his palms and drew blood—and Sunghoon took notice of this with a delighted hum. “You should’ve heard him scream, Jae. I had my doubts about him at first, but when he was begging me for his life, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
You were distraught. “Sunghoon, you—”
It all happened in seconds, like a rubber band finally snapping after being stretched too thin. Jaeyun used his elbow to knock Jongseong’s arm out of the way, and he shoved Sunghoon as soon as he found an opening, driving his hands into his ribs. He heard you cry out, but Jaeyun could only see red until he was dragged back up by Jongseong, the sharp blade of the knife being pressed to his throat.
“Stop!” you cried. “Leave Jaeyun out of this! You wanted me, right? Just let him go. Please.”
“I don’t think so.” Sunghoon wrapped an arm around you. “You two already know too much, and Jongseong and I have been waiting for this finale for years.”
Your eyes had a faraway look in them for a moment before you turned your attention back to Jongseong. “You told me…”
“I told you that when we were fifteen, Sunghoon thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught,” Jongseong filled in the blanks for you, a haunting smile playing on his lips, “and I was in on it.”
Sunghoon tutted. “But you got it all wrong, Y/N. It wasn’t Jungwon’s murder that we were planning; it was yours.”
You looked up at him in horror.
Jaeyun struggled against Jongseong for a moment, face taut with unbridled anger. He just wanted to get to you. Get Sunghoon’s filthy hands off of you.
“I’m a writer. I write stories,” Sunghoon continued. “Isn’t it a great twist? Convincing my childhood best friend that I loved her all this time, only to reveal that she’s gonna die at my hands.” He scoffed. “Jungwon was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was good practice. I was too careless back then. I shouldn’t have left all those drawings and papers out like that when he came over, but now I’m gonna finish the job properly.”
Your breathing was shallow. Jaeyun could see the flood of despair racking your body with soft sobs and quick pants. Your gaze fell to the ground, and Sunghoon peered to catch a better look at you.
“Good,” he praised. “That’s what I wanna see. Wow, that’s great, Y/N. I can’t wait to see more when—”
“Get the fuck away from her!” Jaeyun yelled, grunting when Jongseong pressed the knife harder against his supple skin.
With an exaggerated flourish of his hands, Sunghoon raised both arms and backed up as if he was a deer caught in headlights. He wore an easygoing smile, yet something sinister was tucked behind the curve of his lips. Your inconsolable self stayed fixed in place, staring helplessly at your shoes.
“For the past two years, I’ve been isolating myself from the friend group for the sake of this story and its ending,” Sunghoon said. “I think I deserve a little fun right now, Jae.”
“Fuck you,” Jaeyun spat. “You deserve to go to Hell.”
Sunghoon took a step closer to Jaeyun, ducking his head so that they were at eye-level with each other. Jaeyun tried to struggle against Jongseong once more, but he froze when the knife pierced his skin. He felt something trickle down the column of his neck, and he soon realized it was his own blood.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Sunghoon mocked a pout. He lowered his voice by an octave, only for Jaeyun to hear. “Competing with a childhood friend is brave, I’ll tell you that.”
Jaeyun’s blood boiled. To his surprise, Sunghoon gestured for Jongseong to let go of him. He took the paring knife from his friend and handed it to Jaeyun.
“Take it,” Sunghoon said. “Why don’t you try killing me? You wanna get back at me, right? I killed your best friend, after all.”
Owlish, he blinked back at Sunghoon, almost absently. Jaeyun really considered it for a moment—like, really considered it. Some part of him wanted to senselessly beat Sunghoon up until he was unrecognizable, but the morally righteous side of him knew that he could never stoop to Jongseong or Sunghoon’s level.
Jaeyun took the knife by the handle, weighing it in his palm experimentally before chucking it away—far from both Sunghoon and Jongseong. Jaeyun was pretty sure he could overtake Jongseong if Sunghoon turned his back, but he wasn’t sure if Jongseong had another weapon up his sleeve. He heard the blade skid and scrape against the concrete, and he could only hope that Sunghoon and Jongseong being distracted by him would give you time to escape.
But Jeongseong immediately stopped you as soon as he saw you picking up the knife, and he let go of Jaeyun to grab ahold of you. Jaeyun tried to yank Jongseong back by the back of his shirt, but Sunghoon grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head against the metal of one of the shipping containers.
Jaeyun’s world was thrown off-balance. The ground bounced, tilted, swayed. He was so dizzy and disoriented that he couldn’t tell if his head was spinning or if he was collapsing.
The corners of his vision grew hazy with white splotches dancing around. Jaeyun tried hard to focus, making out some of the yelling that was going back and forth, but he couldn’t think at all when a newly-formed cut on his forehead was getting blood all over his face and hands.
He doubled forward, falling onto his knees. Jaeyun had to stay there for a while and ride out the intense waves of vertigo until he was stable again. When the world finally returned to its normal axis and stopped bouncing under him, Jaeyun lifted his head to see you and Jongseong screaming at each other.
And Sunghoon was on the ground.
He stumbled over, and it was as if the white noise in Jaeyun’s ears had drowned out everything in the background. He couldn’t see or focus on anything except the pained look on Sunghoon’s face as the color drained from his neck. Blood was gushing from his jugular vein, and he was digging his palm into his neck to put pressure on the wound.
“—you stabbed him!” you screamed at Jongseong. Your voice was hysterical; Jaeyun had never heard you sound so desperate, not even when he was being held at knifepoint.
“Fuck, Y/N, I wouldn’t have hurt him if you didn’t pull on my arm!” Jongseong yelled back. He sank to the ground, simultaneously dropping the knife and dropping his head between his knees.
The sight was miserable to watch. Jongseong wailed loud and mournful until he couldn’t take it anymore, doubling over so that he could throw up until nothing but bile was coming out. When it seemed as though he had nothing else to heave out of his stomach, Jongseong sat up for a brief moment. You and Jaeyun watched as his eyes rolled back almost instantly, falling onto his back and hitting his skull against the concrete. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him, and you two didn’t have long until he was conscious again.
Jaeyun turned his attention back to Sunghoon, watching his life bleed out of his body slowly. For some reason, an odd disconnect came over Jaeyun, and he bent down to help apply pressure over Sunghoon’s wound. At first, Sunghoon gritted his teeth, but even he knew when to accept help when it was needed.
Sim Jaeyun was pretty sure he was broken beyond belief by now, but it was impossible for him to ignore someone who was dying right before him.
Even if he murdered Jungwon.
“Y/N, we need to get him to a—”
Jaeyun cut himself off when he looked up at you to see that your expression had changed. Something was different. You looked like numbness had seeped into your body, coiling around your heart until you couldn’t feel anything. The way you looked down at Jongseong, clutching his knife tightly, made Jaeyun worry.
“Y/N,” Jaeyun said again—slower, “whatever you’re thinking… please put it down.”
It didn’t seem like you were listening, though. Almost as if your body and brain were at two different places.
“Y/N—” Jaeyun shuddered when you brought the knife down, driving it straight into Jongseong’s chest.
Jaeyun’s stomach lurched. He watched as Jongseong struggled for his life, hardly conscious as you repeatedly stabbed him over and over again until Jaeyun was yelling at you to stop. He was sure he would never be able to close his eyes again without hearing Jongesong’s blood-curdling screams and seeing Sunghoon’s face drained of color.
“Wow,” Sunghoon choked out. One last amused look crossed his face before it fell apart painfully. “I told you, Jae, there’s no competing with a childhood best friend.” Jaeyun flushed with anger, but it dissolved quickly when he realized Sunghoon’s breathing got slower, shallower. The look on his face was one of someone accepting their untimely death. “Thanks for the show, though.”
In his arms, Sunghoon took his last breath and went still.
It wasn’t grief that Jaeyun felt. It was something far greater.
“Jaeyun, I—I didn’t mean to,” you sobbed out, shakily holding up your bloodstained hands. “It was self-defense! I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me, and then he… he killed Sunghoon. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” You exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”
Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just stared at you in disbelief.
“Come on, Jae,” you pleaded. Oh, so it was Jae now. “You have to help me get rid of their bodies. I can’t go to prison!”
“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “Y/N, they’re dead! We have to tell the police everything. I mean, what are you gonna do when your prints match?”
Your lips pressed together in a grim line. “Your prints are on the knife, too.”
Were you blackmailing him? Jaeyun couldn’t believe what he was hearing from you. He never expected you, of all people, to be the one to throw him under the bus like this. He had trusted you with his life before, and you threw it all away in seconds.
“Are you going to help me or not?” You looked toward the dock over the water. It was a good enough distance for you to drag Sunghoon and Jongseong’s bodies over to, but Jaeyun sure as hell didn’t want to get involved. “Just help me throw them in the water, and we can both walk away from this, Jae. We can go back to our lives, okay?”
He shook his head sadly. You just sounded like a stranger to him.
“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, tears stinging his eyes, “please stop this. You have to turn yourself in.”
But his resolve was shaky. Jaeyun knew that he would still be booked once they found his prints at the scene, and there was no telling what you would do to protect yourself. By now, Jaeyun wouldn’t have been surprised if you somehow pushed the crime onto him.
“Jae, listen to me,” you insisted. Your eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and Jaeyun couldn’t help but think you looked a little crazed. “We can both get out of this, but you have to help me out here. We’re gonna tell them that Jongseong killed Sunghoon before we got here, and then he chased us until we ended up stabbing him out of self-defense. I mean, that’s all this was, anyway! It was self-defense!”
A distant part of Jaeyun’s mind wondered what happened to you. He wondered if you had always been this way, perhaps keeping it tucked away. In the end, you were still trying to protect Sunghoon in your own way. You were still trying to protect some fragment of his golden image.
“It’s you and me,” you whispered, kneeling down by your boyfriend’s side until you were cupping his face with your hands, staining his cheeks with Jongseong’s blood, “the two of us against the world.”
Just hours ago, Sim Jaeyun looked at you like you were his entire world.
And now, with your bloodstained hands holding his face, there was unmistakable fear behind his eyes as he looked up at you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you made it all the way to the end !! i would lovee for you to guys to share what you thought, but just to point a few things out, jake's pov was the unfiltered version of what went down that night. the dialogue from mc is similar to jongseong's because while she painted him out to be the villain in the end to protect sunghoon, it was really her who said those things. originally this had a happier ending but i'm a lot more satisifed with this one actually. i hope you guys liked it !! <3 also i am deciding against using my permanent tag list this time because i haven't used it in a year and don't know if anyone exactly signed up to read horror 🧎♀️
synopsis ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 You swore the next time you saw Sunghoon you would cuss him out and turn a cold shoulder. But when he suddenly appears at your apartment door one night, drunk and desperate, you find yourself faltering
now playing ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 difficult - gracie abrams, anaheim -niki, hope ur okay - olivia rodrigo
warnings ˎˊ˗ cursing, crying, fighting, kissing, mentions of hoon being emotionally unavailable, mentions of breaking up, heavyyyy angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of being drunk, mentions of children, open ending, use of the word masochist once, pet names
genre ⭑.ᐟ hurt to ??
pairings: non-idol ex!sunghoon x female reader
wc ᵎᵎ 1.28k
thoughts frm yuya 💭 fun fact this was actually based off a convo i had with my ex!!!!!! 😁😁😁 so! hit kinda close to home guys! anyways angst is actually so fun to write i won't even lie...
You had just finished taking a shower when you heard a few gentle and quiet knocks coming from your door, barely audible but loud enough for you to hear them. Hand still intertwined in your wet hair in an attempt to dry it, you peered out the peephole to check who was disturbing you at this hour.
Fuck.
Out of all the people you didn’t want to see, Park Sunghoon was at the top of that list. Yet there he stood, eyes heavy and lidded, hair a mess, and gaze averted on the floor, yet you could tell his eyes were plagued with desperation. And even though you so badly wanted to ignore him standing out there hopelessly, a small part of you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you had done that.
Keeping the door ajar you squeezed your head between the gap, his eyes immediately darted to your own. Fuck, you shouldn’t have done this. You knew you shouldn’t have done this because the moment his eyes met yours you felt the all-so-familiar sense of longing overcoming your soul, the sense of longing you’d been trying to fight off for 6 months; all for it to come crashing down on you again. Well, there goes half a year's worth of healing.
“Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”
“YN, I uh- I didn’t think you’d open up…” shit. His breath reeked of alcohol, of course, the only time he’d come to see you would be when he was drunk.
“Are you drunk Sunghoon?” your words lingered with bitterness as they left your tongue
“Just- just a bit…can I come in?” his eyes were still pleading, and that accompanied by the shaking of his voice would’ve been enough to break you. But you refused to let him do that again.
“Sunghoon you’re drunk you really should just go home-” your hands fumbled at the doorknob as you tried to gently shut the door, but Sunghoon was quicker than you it seemed.
“Please,” his hand reaching towards your own, “I’ll be good.” fuck.
You hated how easily you faltered under his words, his gaze, his touch. You hated it so badly, yet you allowed yourself to do so every. single. time.
Begrudgingly you opened the door fully to let him drunkenly stumble in, collapsing at the end of your bed. A scene all too familiar that haunted you in your sleep. You swore you would never let Sunghoon back into your life, that the next time you saw him you would spit insults in his face and stand your ground, yet with one touch of the wrist the defences you raised for yourself seemed to be built upon sand.
Seating yourself at the edge of your bed you allowed yourself to gingerly run your fingers through his hair, you missed this. However, that was all the more reason why you shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be allowing yourself to hurt again, just at the expense of a few fleeting moments of serenity.
“Why are you here drunk Sunghoon?”
“I,” he propped himself up, allowing him to stare into your glossy eyes, “I don’t really know. I got kinda drunk and- fuck I couldn’t stop thinking about you love.”
Love, fuck you hated how naturally it rolled off his tongue. “Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry…” he mumbled hazily, “Don’t you miss it though?”
You did. “No.”
“Well I do, I miss you YN. I miss all of this, your hugs, your voice, your touch, your anger. Fuck, I miss being scolded by you after drinking actually, it’s weird right, maybe I’m a masochist.” he said with a small grin
“Hoonie come on-” Hoonie, you didn’t even mean to say it yet the words seemed to come out of you like it was an instinct.
“I missed that too,” he cut in as his hand slowly drew circles around your knuckles, “Shit YN I missed you so much” his eyes slowly started to well up with tears, a few threatening to drip down. You hated how your heart still held a soft spot for him, but you hated seeing him cry even more.
“Hoon don’t cry.” your hands reached over to cup his face, fuck if this was all so wrong why did it feel so right. Like your hand belonged there.
“YN- fuck,” now he really was crying “I really do love you.”
Do, present tense. “Just because you loved me doesn’t mean I felt loved by you”
The memories you tried so hard to repress suddenly flooded all back to you, the arguments, the sleepless nights, the cold glares. The reason you broke up in the first place. You tried your hardest to forget that night, the shouts between you two that filled up your apartment, the way his words pierced through your heart like a spear, the way he walked out so easily. All to just walk back into your heart like he owned the place. Fuck he did own your heart though, he never stopped owning it.
“I’m sorry YN. I’m so so sorry, I should’ve been better. I can be better. Please, I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. I won’t shut you out anymore, fuck I never should’ve. I just- please, I can’t keep living without you. I haven’t been living without you-” he was practically sobbing now. “Please YN, I mean it.”
You wiped away the tears running down his cheeks, seeming to not notice how your eyes were stinging with tears as well. “Hoonie I miss you too but, we can’t keep hurting each other like this. We aren’t good for each other”
“We were good YN. It was so so good, I just fucked it up. Please give me a chance, I can be better.”
Your brain told you to block out his words; and deny everything that was coming out of his mouth, but your heart seemed to overpower those commands. “It wasn’t just you Hoonie, I could’ve been better too-”
“No you were perfect.” he blurted out cutting you off, “I never stopped loving you. Can’t we just, start over?” desperation was an understatement to describe him, god he was a pleading mess.
You could practically hear your own heart-shattering. “I never stopped loving you either Hoonie. But you’re drunk right now, let’s just talk about this in the morning ‘kay?”
“Okay but, can I please sleep here?”
No, he shouldn’t. “Sure hoon”
Sunghoon made his way to the top of your bed, arm reaching out signalling you to come over. A signal you regretfully accepted. You nested yourself between his arms, breathing in his cologne while his chin rested on the top of your head. You hated this, fuck you hated how natural this felt. You hated how easily you could melt into his touch, his words, his scent. You hated how badly you loved it.
“I love you, my YN” his breath slightly hitched before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.
You tried ignoring the lump in your throat but it was no use, the next words that came out of your mouth were swallowed with sniffles and quiet sobs “I love you too hoonie”
Maybe in another universe, you two could’ve talked everything out. Maybe you two could have reconciled and lived happily together again. Maybe the 4 years of dating didn’t disappear in one night. Maybe you two could’ve gotten married like he said. Maybe you lived in a nice 2-bedroom house in the countryside, dogs running around the yard whilst you both basked in the sunlight. Maybe you would have actually had the child you fantasised about.
Maybe, just maybe, Sunghoon would’ve been there when you woke up the next morning.
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Zhongli x GN!Reader (Soulmate!AU)
Summary: Zhongli hated the mark on his neck, and he hated whoever the mark bounded him to. But fate plays a cruel joke, matching him with you, as he swore he would love no one else but Guizhong.
Tags: Angst/No Comfort, Short Story, Rejection, Hurtful Words, Hatred to Love
Soulmark - A mark that binds two individuals as soulmates.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Morax had always been frustrated by the mark on his neck.
A glowing, permanent part of his body that marks him tied to a soulmate. He thinks its stupid, for the love of his life was already in front of him, a gray-haired inventor that no carving in his body could ever stop him from adoring.
He finds it unbelievable that his neck is claimed by a soulmark yet Guizhong's remain blank, and he curses Celestia above for such a foul joke.
How could he be for anyone else but her?
When her dust settled in the field of glaze lilies he thought were incomparable to her beauty, he was utterly devasted, his clawed hands held onto his neck, wanting to rip the soulmark that had been taunting him for centuries.
How could he be marked for someone else while the love of his life laid lifeless?
He loathed his mark, everything about it, and he will till his last breath.
...
Zhongli deeply dislikes you.
You are a messy, silly, babbling buffoon.
An adventurer from Mondstadt that embodies the nation's will of freedom. Bubbly, carefree, and loud, much like a fellow god he didn't particularly like.
Despite of his disdain of you, your affection towards him never wavered. You filled his somber days with excitement as you joyfully tell him stories about your adventures, share some new recipes you've learned, even ushering him to talk about obscure Liyue historical facts that you've always found interesting.
He was much too proper to shoo you away, and his cold looks and short responses didn't discourage you to try to make friends with the man that peeked your curiosity.
Ever so slowly, you had pried open his caged heart, planting a small seed that was so distinctly you.
He would have accepted you, he would have seen you as a friend... and yet...
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint, familiar mark on your neck, revealed when you put your hair up into a ponytail.
Zhongli knew he truly disliked you.
...
"I don't believe in the marks either, Mr. Zhongli..." You reasoned with him, but his gaze still stung you with daggers.
He caged himself back up, ensuring that you could not care for the little seed you planted, no light would be able to reach it again.
His heart would not open...
No matter how many times he catches himself smiling at your antics.
No matter if he displays every gift and trinket you give him from your travels.
No matter how much he preferred your cooking over anyone else's.
No matter how beautiful you look staring up at him with your doe eyes as you confess your affection.
No matter how frustrated he felt at himself when he made you cry as he rejects your feelings.
Because, for him, how could there be anyone else but her?
...
"Do you see why it could never be you?"
You both stood in front of a monument, surrounded by various plants and objects you assume to be from friends of this ancient goddess.
"I bet she was amazing."
"She was perfect. Perhaps that's why I was not worthy to share a mark with her."
At this point, you were used to his words, how they praise her, how they degrade you.
"You're pretty great too, Zhongli..."
Faith places identical marks on the necks of two soulmates, and the rest is a romantic story of the passion that builds up as people pursue their marks of love.
Fate is cruel to you and him.
"That mark is not for you, Y/N." The Geo Archon says to you, tearing you apart silently, as you stand and take his words.
His heart quivers despite the harsh words coming from his own mouth. Even after millennia of having the mark engraved on his neck, after concluding that maybe he would allow your little seed to prosper even just for a bit, he still chooses to cling onto his hopeless past.
Tears fall down from your eyes, but you remain quiet, only nodding in agreement.
You loathed the mark on your neck.
...
Zhongli opens the cage of his heart a little, allowing him to peak at the small sprout from the seed you planted.
So distinctly you, it was the only thing he has of you.
After letting you leave him at Guizhong's monument with tears still staining your face, he couldn't help but miss you.
He couldn't help but let you finally take your place in his heart, after so long of hating his soulmark, hating whoever the mark tied him to, he fears he has finally accepted faith.
...
"Where is it?" He grips your arm harshly, his hold not faltering as you try to shake him off. His gaze was cold, yet you could still catch the hint of alarm in his eyes. "What have you done?"
After weeks... you return to him... missing something.
You winced at the stress of his words, feeling frightened under his tense hold. "I..." His bruising grip didn't falter, urging you to explain yourself. "S-Surprise...?"
"You..." Zhongli looks at you in disbelief. "How stupid could you be?"
"M-Mr. Zhongli... it's a blessing of the Anemo Archon... I prayed for him set us free from fate."
"Y/N... I..." He was at a loss for words, his heart ached as his eyes searched your neck in vain. "Fate... going against it is painful. It must've been excruciating."
"It was... but this if for you, Zhongli..." You smiled, feeling him loosen his grip. "Because I love... loved you." You fully free yourself from him, rubbing at where he previously held you.
The wind around him picked up, and he hears the faint whispers of an old friend along with it. Whispers of comfort, as he clearly ruined what would have been the light of the rest of his days.
Your soulmark fades, but his remains...
Zhongli loathed his mark, for it bears no meaning, no one but him bears that mark.
As you leave, trying to fade away in the background of his life, you remain under a spotlight in his eyes, for you will always be the one that shares his mark, no matter if it is visible.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
What y'all think of this one? :3
I bet y'all's feelings were hurt hehe
Diluc x Mute!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Angst to Fluff, Injuries, Being Mean to Reader :(
Summary: As Diluc's days got busier, he seems to have been more irritable towards you and everyone who tried to approach him. After one particular night, he, for some reason, couldn't take you always running in front of him, signing about some stupid shit he probably doesn't care about, stopping him in his tracks if he doesn't acknowledge you. Diluc lashed out, he turned in for the night right after, and you went to sleep with a broken heart. The next day he got the news that you got in an accident, body severing minor injuries, but your hands and arms, they're bruised bad, now you can't even converse with him properly anymore. (No permanent damage to body)
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Your ears perk up as you hear the front door open, familiar footsteps fill the receiving area as you let the maids take over your cooking to greet your husband.
You walked eagerly into the living room, seeing the man you loved the most in this world. He seemed a little worse for wear these past few days, but Diluc is strong! Plus, you were always there to support him.
You stood in front of him, giving him a wave and a small smile to show that you're happy that he's home. Diluc seems to pay no mind to you, taking off his coat and attempting to put it on the coat rack, before you interrupted him.
"Let me wash that for you. You've been wearing it all week." You signed, lending a helping hand. The man in front of you just sighed before handing his coat over to you. After that, he just walked passed you and headed for his office... as usual.
That's odd though, he didn't even greet you.
"Y/N... Y/N!" You hear a panicked voice call out for you, despite their attempt to yell for you, it's as if their voice was faint and quiet, almost like a haze.
"H-hey, I'm here, alright?" The voice seems to have grown shaky, you felt a warm hand cup your cheek. At that moment, everything started to hurt, your body, your head, but especially... your arms.
Your arms feel so sore, both resting beside you, and you don't know if you want to open your eyes, see what has happened, why are you in so, so much pain.
"Please, wake up..." The voice seemed to beg, it sounded sad, lost, confused, that tempted you.
You opened your eyes.
"Y/N!" You felt strong arms embrace you, warms hands guiding your head to rest on a firm chest. A very familiar scent, wood and grapes.
Diluc...
You can't wait to show Diluc what you've made for dinner! It's been weeks since you started to learn how to cook and you're positive, absolutely sure that tonight was your first ever masterpiece! A masterpiece that he doesn't have to fake a smile for and give you a pat on the head while eating just to spare your feelings.
And you've made some freshly made grape juice too! Just in case the shrimp salad you made is still gonna be one of your... "working progress". But Diluc is always nice, he'll be very encouraging even if you fail yet again.
And yet, you stood there, tears in your eyes as you look down on the food that your husband has shoved away to the ground, everything spilling...
Like your tears as he yells at you,
"You are the biggest burden that anyone can ever carry!"
"It's so hard with you! Do you really fucking expect me to have some kind of eagle eyes and watch you sign about things that are so insignificant?!"
"I could have been with someone who can actually communicate with me, you know? Instead, for some reason, I got a girl who can't even say a single word even if her life depended on it!"
He grabs you by the shoulder, making you look up at him with immense fear, "Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone." You nodded quickly, and with that, he let you go with a slight shove, but it was enough for you to be stumbling back a bit.
You would've consulted him, asked him if he was okay, wouldn't mind the mess that he's made on the floor and would advice him to rest. But you left, so scared, so frightened. That was not the man you married.
"Y/N?" You feel the exact same fear from that moment crippling up in your heart. Diluc was smiling at you softly, glad that you were awake, and yet, you felt that you wanted to run away, crawl up in a corner and beg for him not to hurt you.
You jump in surprise, trying to sit up, but when your hands pushed onto the bed to support yourself, you felt a jolting pain consume you as you whimper, falling back onto the bed immediately. Everything hurts.
"Careful, please." Diluc's hands gently grab onto your elbows, right above your bandaged forearms. The gentleness was so familiar, comforting, but the uneasiness still grew inside you. "You don't want your injuries to get worse." He looked back at your face, seeing the shock and worry etched onto your feature, but what made his breath hitch was the undiluted fear in your eyes.
You're scared... of him?
He waited outside the room as the Sisters of the Church of Favonious treated you, explaining what had happened, what injuries you've gotten. He paced as he recalled what he had seen of you, everything that has happened yesterday, everything he said.
The red-haired man cursed himself, wanting to punch the wall and bang his head on it, but that would be really inappropriate in the Cathedral.
And now, you're both home, you sitting on the couch whilst looking down at your hands on your lap, covered in bruises and bloody bandages. You feel even worse now...
"I could have been with someone who can actually communicate with me, you know? Instead, for some reason, I got a girl who can't even say a single word even if her life depended on it!" His words echoed in your head.
He's right, now you really have no way of communicating, apart from yes or no questions. You can't even lift your arms without them hurting, he's probably just keeping you here so you can heal, then he'll most likely want a divorce. The thought made your heart ache. Despite what he said, what he did, you still love him, you just don't know if he feels the same.
Diluc, who said that he was gonna go upstairs to your shared room to take a shower, has stayed, standing by the stairs behind you. Your small form looking so lonely and not your usual energetic self had struck countless needles at his heart.
He didn't know what to do, in his mind, you probably hated him, despised him with all your heart. Diluc understands if you do, he feels exactly the same way for himself.
Night came and you didn't want to eat, despite not eating anything since breakfast. Your husband placed a tray on the coffee table, he insisted that you should eat, he won't stop pestering you until you do. So he just sits there at the couch with you, waiting until you nudge him, as a signal that you finally want to eat.
After hours, to which Diluc was already sure that it's almost midnight, did you finally look at him, giving a small hum his way to gain his attention.
"Do you want to eat now, Love?" You shook your head, before looking up to the second floor, specifically, the door of your room.
"Do you want to rest?" You just nodded. Diluc frowned at you, "It's not good to go to bed on an empty stomach." He stated, but when you looked at him, your face begging him to just drop it and just let you go, he reluctantly agreed. "Alright."
Diluc carefully carried you upstairs, holding you as if you'd break if he doesn't hold you up properly, but in this case, you probably will.
He lays you down onto the bed, head resting on a soft pillow as he gently places your hands on top of your stomach.
"Comfy?" You didn't answer, focusing your eyes onto your hands, your only form of proper communication with him, temporarily gone as well, you felt tears form in your eyes, remembering everything that happened, an uncontrollable sob comes out of your mouth.
Your husband slowly kneels down to your level, you refusing to meet his feary red eyes. His heart was clenching, being torn apart as you force your body to not give in, to not cry and let all the never spoken emotions out.
"Hey, hey, what are you doing?" Diluc cupped your hands after seeing you attempt to move them up. You ignored him, your right hand falling onto your side before you pat the bed. You still refused to look at him, your eyes on your other hand as you slowly pat the bed.
He looked at you confused, "You want me to lay down with you?" You shook your head, sniffing slightly.
"You don't like the bed sheets?" Not that either.
"The bed is too hard?" No.
With all your strength, you pointed downwards, before you let your hand rest.
"Under the bed?" You nodded enthusiastically, encouraging him to look there.
"Huh?" The red-haired man looked down beneath the bed, and there definitely was something... a paper.
He reached for it, bringing it out from under and into your sight.
"Do you want me to read it to you?" You nodded again, despite your tired eyes, you smiled at him again. Smiled... at him. It melted his heart. You finally looked at him.
Wedding Vow to Diluc
Your husband looked at you questioningly for a second, his breath seemed to be stuck in his throat as he read the title. He sat on the bed next to you before looking back at the piece of paper.
I love you... that's something I can never say to you. In fact, I can't say anything to you at all.
But everything I feel about you, everything you ever make me feel, it's all real. There's too many reasons why I love you, Diluc, but the most important one is because... you accept me, you embrace who I am, you love me. Those things, they all mean so, so much to me.
You feel for me, you always say that I'm your inspiration, your number one supporter, your cheerleader, but all that can only get you so far, besides, do you really feel motivated by a cheer that you can't even hear?
But still, thank you, Diluc, you're the best thing that's ever happened to my life. I will always be there for you, whenever you need me. I love you, I always have and I always will.
-Y/N
Hot tears fall on the paper as the man holding it lets the tears escape his eyes. He looked at you, to see your also tear-stained face smile at him yet again.
Diluc placed the paper on the bedside table before cupping both of your cheeks, kissing your lips with the softest pecks. "I love you too. Archons, you don't know how much I-"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Y/N, my love. I hope you can forgive me." You nodded rapidly, indicating that you do forgive him. "Do you still love me?"
You nodded, of course you still do, you never stopped loving him.
"I love you too..." Diluc chuckled for a bit, placing his forehead against yours, "I love you too."
pairing: sunghoon x gn!reader
genre: angst
wc: 1k
warnings: allusions to a toxic past relationship (sunghoon and unnamed ex), crying (a lot), hurt-no-comfort fic, heartbreak; sunghoon realises his feelings for you too late
a/n: all i want is to break hearts <3
a/n pt 2: umm, not a solid plot but more so like a scene building concept?
there wasn’t a more heartbreaking moment than this, not for sunghoon; not even when the consequences of his actions that led him here had played out exactly as you had warned him it would.
now it was too late, and beg as he might, a heavy feeling in his chest slowly settled against his favour, a premonition turning true and cry as much as he wanted, everything was spiralling out of control so fast, he wasn’t sure who he should save first.
“(y/n)...(y/n) please, i can’t do this, i can’t live without you. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, please don’t leave, i need you…i love you.”
the more he weeped for a lost cause, the more it hurt your chest and ripped you apart piece by piece but you made no attempts at stopping the pain.
everyone had always assumed that you and sunghoon would be the endgame. it was so obvious! you both were head over heels for each other, but of course, of course the heart wavers ever so often now and then. sunghoon let himself ignore all the signs, pretend that the affection and sweet words weren’t another ploy for his wealth, his looks, his popularity, the safety and love he was so willing to provide someone, because he was always so very generous. generous and ridiculously naive; always looking to give away a piece of himself to anyone who so much as asked for it.
and a man in love is hard to sway again, especially when the man is sunghoon, with his giving nature and so much love that filled his heart that he couldn’t contain it any longer.
words were said – spit almost venomously at the cost of saving face and pride, and how dare you question his love and hers, when you had no business? how dare you make assumptions about this beautiful woman who loved him – at least he hoped she did – as much as he did?
and then…and then everything you said came true. your warnings carefully etched themselves like knife carvings on a paper – vehemently and so very stubbornly irreversible. now he’s here, after months of grieving not just the loss of his trust in love, but also you. and he had to make things right, but how does one convince a person they've broken and trampled upon so mercilessly, that they are indeed in love with them?
how does sunghoon convince you that he’s so utterly in love with you that he could physically feel the pain of your pointed ignoring and cold looks? how does he even begin to express how sorry he was when the unsaid apology squeezed the breath out of him in aggrieved pants? how does sunghoon not lose you again?
“”i’m sorry hoon, i can’t do this anymore. i can’t love you anymore, i don’t want to love you anymore…you’ve hurt me too much.”
“(y/n) please, please i beg you,”
and beg he did; getting down on his knees on the cold tile floors of your living room, he wrapped his arms around your waist and dampened your shirt with his hot tears. neither he nor you were making much sense of this conversation anymore.
he felt you shake in his embrace, your own tears and gasps of air breaking his chants of an apology, his hands tightening around you to physically feel your touch after months.
“hoon stop it,” a wretched sob, ugly as it sounded when it tumbled out of your lips in pain, like a helpless rotten fruit falling off its branches, makes you whimper and clutch onto the clinging man's hand who refused to let you go.
in a hurried motion sunghoon is up on his feet, holding you by the shoulder that shakes with the cries staining your cheeks.
“i can’t live without you, please give me another chance,” he shakes his head frantically, mumbling out his words in a frenzy as he is yet again painfully reminded of exactly how weighted his words were and how much truth they held in them. it weighed him down, your refusal to look past this, like a sack of cotton drowning in water, and yet he could not bring himself to blame you, hoping against hope that his words would make a change.
his lips find your forehead, pressing down on them in a hot kiss; the trembling of his lips breaks you, you wish would stop – but he doesn’t. he’s kissing your shoulder, your arms, your wrists, your palms and he’s kissing your forehead – again and again and again and again – until you push yourself away, your eyes closed, shaking your head.
“don’t, it’s time we stopped this. we can’t hope for things that were never meant to be.”
sunghoon was standing on the edge of a cliff, and you just pushed him off into a bottomless pit that made his insides curl into themselves, his hands shooting in the air for something to grasp but there’s only air that passes through his fingers like bullets.
in his last attempt he kisses you on the lips. he holds your face so gently and kisses you so deeply and for a moment you feel yourself swaying. you let him kiss you, because you know this would be the last time you would let this happen. you whimper into his mouth and he lets a broken sob tumble on your lips where it stays as a reminder of this very moment, searing you both apart. you don’t kiss back.
“stop it, please. you’re hurting me.” it’s a whispered plea, but to sunghoon it’s a huge boulder that blocks his way from you. you’ve planted it there for once and for all, and he knows that there’s nothing he can do to make you move it.
“i’m sorry, i love you, but i don't want to anymore. i’m sorry.”
sunghoon rests his forehead against yours, your tears mingled and continuous and he knows he’s lost you now, for well and for good.
defiance | king!sukuna x servant!reader
master list
chapter three: the king of curses
summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine. TL;DR: sukuna's a sorcerer in this one, still ooc but not too much. mc pretty much ran away from home for being a hoe, and went to work at sukuna's shrine lol.
genre: female reader, heian era au but incredibly historically inaccurate, 18+, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, smut, so much crack, angst, mutual pining, might be seen as dubcon but she wants him lol, no he wont have two sets of arms, and no he wont have two dicks, srry srry srry
fic warnings: profanity, explicit smut, ooc, mentions of grooming, more will be added
word count: 3.6k
playlist
You were woken up by the sounds of rumbling, low buzzing, and Sukuna’s faint snoring. At first you thought all three were coming from him, but the more you came to, you realized the first two sounds were from across the room.
Specifically from the very dark corner of his already dark room.
You slowly lifted yourself up, rubbing your eyes and trying to focus in that direction. Two orbs— bright glowing green orbs— seemingly directed at you, shifting and occasional blinking.
You looked back at Sukuna, who was sleeping way too peacefully for someone who had a literal intruder in their chambers. When you looked back up to the corner, the thing had moved a couple feet closer in your direction.
“Kuna..” You wearily tried to shake the king awake, constantly looking back at the apparition that was shaped like a giant bee corpse from hell.
It had legs, it wasn’t using them. In fact, it morphed towards you instead of walking– or running. But that didn’t matter, it would’ve been equally terrifying either way.
The rumbling noise it made was now turning into muffled shrieks as warped closer and closer and closer to you the more you acknowledged it.
“..Kuna!” You yelped as it morphed to his side of the bed, now glaring and smiling at you.
Sukuna shot up the moment you fully hid under the covers, completely bemused by what you could possibly be whining about before dawn even broke.
At first he’s pissed, being ripped away from his sleep and all. Of course this had to happen the one fucking time he allowed a concubine to sleep with him.
His annoyance quickly fades away the moment he felt the familiar feeling of all the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. It was pretty obvious to him what it was that woke you up and scared you half to death.
He turned his head to see the grade 1 curse was able to weasel itself into his territory.
Weak, but gross nonetheless. He stuck out his pointer finger and gently flicked his wrist, slicing the things head off and splattering its purple blood all over the walls and floors.
He made a mental note to have Uraume clean it up later, since they were the only ones who could see them in the shrine.
Well— aside from you, apparently.
But he was way too tired to get into that, and made another mental note to ask you about it in the morning once the sun was actually up.
For now, he was going back to bed. He was tired from the festival, all the people that have tried to talk to him during the festival, and from his night with you— but that’s more of a fact than a complaint.
He looked back to find you still under the covers. He slightly pulled them back to find you face down on to the pillows, covering your ears— which also made him realize you probably also heard the grueling noise of it getting beheaded.
“It’s gone now,” his voice was low and raspy, clearly still half asleep. “Go back to bed,” he ordered, before he threw his arm and leg over you.
—
“So you can see them?” He asked after he gave you a moment to wake up.
Sukuna had woken up as interested as ever in you and stayed in bed until you finally opened your eyes.
Uraume had already come by and cleaned the walls and floor, along with taking the corpse and tossing it to wherever they tossed them to.
“Yeah, usually they’re easy to ignore.” You admit. “But once it noticed that I could see it, I felt like it started to taunt me in a way. It wouldn’t stop getting closer and it even smiled at me.”
“Yeah, the stronger they are the more they tend to do stuff like that.” He explained.
He knew he shouldn’t stay in bed too long with you in the morning, but allowed himself to laze around a little longer. He could tell you were enjoying it too from the way you were caressing and tracing his chest and arms.
A little too much actually, as you traced lower. And lower. And lower.
“NO! That fucking tickles.” He snapped after you impulsively poked his side, making him hunch over to protect himself from you.
How you had the energy to try to fuck with him was an absolute mystery. It was way too early in the morning to laugh, yet there you were giggling away at his suffering.
“Sorry for waking you up.” You finally said after getting a hold of yourself.
“It’s fine.” He yawned. “And you’ve always been able to see them?” The questions continued.
It piqued his curiosity, making him wonder if you came from a line of sorcerer’s or were unknowingly one yourself. He went with the former for now, most sorcerers realize they had abilities around 4-6 years old. It was least likely the latter since you were way past that age.
“Yeah. I don’t see them often though. It’s actually my first time seeing one since coming to work here.”
“That’s because Uraume usually takes care of them— here drink this.” Sukuna was quick to hand you the elixir that his assistant dropped off this morning.
An elixir you were more than happy to take. Having children was normal at your age, but it was something you’d rather not do and you were glad he wasn’t pushing you to give him an heir. At least not right away.
You were still visibly disturbed as you recalled the early morning's events. He watched the wheels start to turn in your head as you tried to wrap your brain around what he could’ve possibly meant by that and what exactly he and Uraume were.
“So are you two.. curses as well?” You tried to tie the loose ends of his slight vagueness.
“Sorcerer’s.” He corrected you. “Top of the food chain, sweetheart.” You could tell he was proud of that.
Curse users if you wanted to get technical about it, since they used their abilities on more than just curses. But he wasn’t going to explain the whole thing to you. At least not right now, you two still had to get ready for the second day of the festival.
He briefly gave you a rundown on what a sorcerer was, and how they were able to kill curses— trying to get as much out before the servants and your ladies in waiting came to get you both ready for the day. You were still left with so many questions but ultimately decided it was enough for now and let it go.
—
You quickly forgot about the curse as the second day of the festival went on.. along with the constant questioning from most of the concubines. Borderline annoying ones at this point since it’s clear they were trying to scope you out, but harmless nonetheless.
“Did King Sukuna really allow you to sleep in his chambers last night?”
How did they even know that?
“What position does he take you in?”
Every single one.
“Which dish did you like most today?”
You don’t care about what my favorite dish is.
“Did you know the king's favorite color is red?”
Did you know there’s seaweed stuck in your teeth?
Each question strayed further away from getting to know you and slowly moved to what Sukuna does with you and how close you were with him.
Which was not close at all— given last night was the first time you actually spent time with him. And that was being generous with your verbiage.
He fucked your brains out and had you sleep in bed with him. Oh, and he killed a giant bug-like apparition that was trying to kill you.
But that was more so for him and the sleep he clearly wanted to get back to— reminding yourself that if anyone or thing were to kill you, it’d be Sukuna him-fucking-self.
But Saiga and Yumi were clearly threatened by your place there, so you did the honors of making your answers more palatable for them in order to validate their places in the king's life.
“Yes, but it was late.”
“From the back of course!”
“I think I enjoyed the pickled daikon and zaru soba the most.”
“No I didn’t, I don’t think the king would tell me that much about himself… haha..”
Sukuna watched as you downplayed your new role— somewhat proud (of you), somewhat frustrated (at them). He knew them well enough to know they’d harass you if you tried to act like you knew him more than they did.
Which he was glad you didnt try to do. Yumi tried that at first in order to fit in and it failed miserably. The twins fucked with her for months and Yuna even joined along because:
She’s kind of psychotic, like her shogun father who enjoys committing war crimes.
She’s a child.
Were there consequences? No. It was quite entertaining for the king to watch them fight for his conditional love.
Would he still find it entertaining if they all the sudden ganged up on you? Who knows. And he doubts he’d ever find out since you played your cards right and didn’t fall for the trap.
By the end of day two, they came to the conclusion that you were nothing more than a little toy to that man.
A replaceable toy.
And that you may take all his nights for the rest of the week— the rest of the month even— but you’d always be the 3rd to last in place, Mariko and Yuna falling right behind you for obvious reasons. No threats here!
In fact, you did such a good job that the king decided to be extra nice to you that night— making you cum on his fingers, then his tongue, and then his fingers again with the help of his second tongue.
Was it because deep down he wanted to prove them wrong? That you weren’t a replaceable fuck toy? He honestly didn’t even know at that point. Your moans were like music to his ears and he’d gladly listen to you all night long.
A king should never have to explain himself anyway.
It was so fucking much and you didn’t know what to do with yourself while he overstimulated and consoled you. Reminding you that your only job was to keep being a good girl and to keep cumming for him.
And you did. So much so that you were nearly delirious towards the end— breath shaking, legs shaking, tears, so many tears.
You didn’t think you’d be so addicted to how he made you feel so soon, and he’d never think he’d become that addicted to making someone feel this way at all.
Or maybe that was just the lust talking, he tried to justify as you fell asleep in his arms for the second night in a row.
Yeah. Maybe that was it.
Maybe extra excitement was all that he needed these past couple of months. It’s not like he’s been getting much of that nowadays. He’s already killed off who he’s needed to kill off.. for now.
Now everything’s calm— boring. Something that’s never settled with his soul. Never has, probably never will.
Maybe he should take your ladies in waiting once the festival is over, release them into the forest, and hunt them down one by one. That would sure help keep him at bay.
What if he were to completely abandon that thought all together and just kick start another war instead? Nothing was more exhilarating than war.
Or should he just wait it out?
The regions and districts were always fighting anyway. They’ll find another reason eventually.
A reason he’ll never care about. He was never one to dabble into politics. Just tell him where to go and he’ll demolish both sides at the flick of a wrist, casualties were inevitable anyways.
And what were they going to do about it? Punish him? Hah.
By all means, come at him.
Maybe it wasn’t that bad if one girl replaced these violent urges. Excitement was excitement. You were technically saving lives without even being aware of it, good girl.
Yet the more he thought about it, the more he itched for it. He didn’t even know where the need came from. Just one day at 5 years old, he had the sudden idea to dismantle someone’s brain without even knowing what dismantle was. His innocent self did exactly just that.
And he liked it. At 5 years old he was fortunate enough to stumble upon his true purpose in this life.
Bringing people to their knees as he reigned absolute hell on earth.
—
The third day was the day things finally got interesting for the young king. You got ready in his chambers, as you did the day before. You asked him a couple more questions about himself, which he gladly answered.
You two didn’t talk more about what sorcery or curses were in front of the servants. He doesn’t like them knowing anything about it. It doesn’t stem from him trying to protect their feelings or anything, he just doesn’t think they should be allowed to listen in on those types of conversations or have access to that information.
The conversation never ran short though while they got you two ready side by side. But you did notice he was more stern with them being around. It was one of the many ways he kept the discipline and order around the estate.
The last thing he needed was someone getting too comfortable and stepping out of line. It was something you needed to remind yourself too, and to not let the way he treats you behind closed doors get to your head.
He was a powerful figure in general, and didn’t mind using it to get what he wanted. To find out that he had literal powers was daunting, he was truly a monster and seemed proud of it.
—
Today you got a break from Yumi and the twins. You didn’t have any issues with them, even after yesterday's interrogation. You understood where they were coming from and couldn’t be too mad. But fuck— they were draining.
You instead sat next to Mariko, who was extremely intimidating. The oldest out of all of the concubines, the wisest and most refined. She was the type of woman who could look into your eyes in the most sincere manner, and you’d still stutter. Elegant and despite the king not having sexual relations with her anymore, it made sense that he’s kept her around.
She wasn’t quick to introduce herself, but it felt genuine when she did. It’s as if she waited for you to get acclimated to the environment before going in and asking how you’ve been liking being a concubine so far.
“It’s only been about a week since being moved to my new chambers, but it’s been nice so far.” You politely said.
“I’m glad to hear that. That’s where the king's mother used to live.” She admitted.
“Is that so?” She smiled and nodded at your surprise.
“She was also a very kind woman, which surprised a lot of us given who she gave birth to.” She chuckled.
You cleared your throat in order to try to hold in a laugh. Who knew the most intimidating concubine had a sense of humor. It made you wonder what kind of conversations she had with Sukuna.
Sukuna watched as the two of you slowly got comfortable with each other, something he knew would happen since Mariko was the most mature out of all of them. He wanted your last day being forced to be with the other concubines to be somewhat peaceful. Hence why he had you sat at the edge with only Mariko sitting next to you.
He actually enjoyed the last day, up until he didn’t.
From the corner of one of his eyes he saw General Toji Zenin— who was in fact staring at you despite being accompanied by not one, but two of his wives.
Greedy bastard.
He was used to other men ogling at his concubines and usually took it as a compliment.
But this was you, which made it a completely different situation in his mind. You had a whole backstory he didn’t know much about aside from the fact that you ran away to the shrine in order to seek asylum.
Toji’s eyes weren’t filled with lust, desire, or attraction. He looked like he saw a ghost and was currently as white one. He looked like he had questions that would probably never be answered.
Scratch that— he’d never get answers if he did have questions, because he won’t ever get the chance to talk to you.
Sukuna could promise that.
He knew of Toji very well actually, and at one point had more respect for him than most people despite never formally meeting him. At least before.
His strength alone was comparable to an entire unit, maybe even surpassing that when you took his battle strategies into account. The man was the closest a normal human could ever get to being a monster. He was strong.
And what made this sight even more endearing was the fact that you were avoiding the generals gaze— he could fucking tell.
Eyes shifting, playing with the hem of your clothing, obviously distracted while Mariko tells you all about her clan.
Now, Sukuna may not know much about you. But, what he does know is that you’re a fucking wildcard. Errant. Disorderly. Mischievous.
And god help you— god help the entire fucking shrine— if you try to flirt your way out of this one.
The whole time, Toji is having a whole internal collapse after realizing that you were indeed who he thought you were. He spent months admiring you— he could point you out in a crowd full of people anytime, anywhere.
Not only that, he was ready to marry you in a heartbeat. It would’ve saved your life of course, but he genuinely wanted you as a wife. Even if you asked him now, he would’ve much rather taken you to today's festival instead of his two wives that were accompanying him.
At first he was relieved to see that you were alive. This whole time he’d been secretly mourning over the possibility that you may have been dead— whether it was one of your brothers catching up to you or getting stranded, then starving to death in the woods.
But that relief was quickly washed over with an overwhelming worry and fear over your life, after realizing you were now property of the morally depraved Ryomen Sukuna.
Not only has he heard stories of him, but he’s seen the man in action years ago. A 17 year old Sukuna, way too eager to run into a battlefield– slicing, laughing, fucking levitating. Rumors about the death of his son were in the air, yet you’d never know with the smile plastered on his face while he effortlessly slaughtered thousands.
He’d only heard tales of sorcerers at the time, and the teenager transcended whatever idea Toji had of them. An urban legend turned rational fear. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend the level of power and depravity that he held.
Not before and definitely not now.
Sukuna continued to watch the tension that unfolded between you two as unfamiliar feelings arose in his chest— homicidal ones.
Feelings that could only be soothed by the brilliance that was his meticulously refined domain, malevolent shrine.
All while an annoying merchant, that was the physical embodiment of an overly ripe plum, tried to strike a conversation with him over possibly backing his green tea business.
Sukuna despises green tea.
And the unnatural pitch in the merchant's voice was the final straw— striking the fire that slowly formed in his chest, setting it ablaze throughout his entire being.
Not only was Toji looking at you, but now so was the king.
And unlike Toji who was looking at you like a wounded puppy, Sukuna was looking at you like he wanted to skin you alive.
And not only did you notice it, but so did Mariko and Uraume. They knew all too well what that look meant.
It struck fear in the first concubine's heart because she actually grew to like you in the hour she’s gotten to speak with you. It struck dread in Uraume’s, knowing they’d most likely have to clean up what the man would eventually start.
This was the first time you’ve ever truly felt seen by him and it wasn’t in a sweet, romantic way at all. It lacked love, it lacked empathy, it lacked anything that had to do with goodness.
It was fucking sinister and made you want to crawl out of your own skin.
You no longer thought he was possessed by a demon, you concluded that Sukuna would simply never allow that.
You tried to relax your breathing, you slowly stopped fiddling with your clothes, you tried to fix your demeanor and sit it up as straight as you could—
Your pathetic little attempts to get it together and act normal have all but failed. Fear had officially struck deep into your bones the longer he stared at you.
Your eyes begged for his mercy and his told you to shut the fuck up.
And in that moment, you realized the curse that appeared in his chambers could’ve multiplied by the thousands, and they still would have never compared to Sukuna’s overwhelming intensity.
Making you truly understand his earned title, The King of Curses.
next chapter
notes: even the king himself gets jealous, jumps to conclusions, and threatens to lay out his domain <3
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"I would kill for you. I would die for you" would you take a break for me? Would you sit down and rest? For a day, a week, a year? Would you let others take care of your needs for me? Would you let yourself be held for me? By me?
☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: after years of abuse, jake is afraid of love, so why do you have to be so warm? ☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied adult! au, very domestic ☆ warning(s)? domestic violence and abuse, poor parenting, 1 mention of self harm, implied mention of suicide, kinda indulgent sorry ☆ word count: 1.5k
The earliest memory that Jake had was the sound of porcelain plates crashing against the tiled kitchen floor, and the wails of his mother.
For a period of time, it was all that he could remember: going home to a cold house, hand-in-hand with his older brother, his heart pounding in his chest as his young mind wondered if Dad was going to hurt Mom again, or if they'd go back to loving each other tonight.
He couldn't have been any older than nine when he experienced the wrath of his father first-hand, when he came to school in May wearing a long-sleeve shirt and long pants as if the early-summer weather wasn't rising, the scent of citrus filling the air. Sure, the bruises, and later scars (because of course, his father just had to try to stab him with a broken beer bottle), hurt, but nothing would compare to the silence that rang through the house after a screaming match. It would pierce his ears every single time, so loud that it was deafening, yet so silent that Jake could hear every single breath that his mother took as she pulled at her hair, driving blades into her skin, ignoring the quiet rumble of her child's stomach.
He'd gone to bed hungry many times. Too many times.
But, perhaps the worst memory that Jake had was the morning after his seventeenth birthday. Jake spent his birthday outside the house, not wanting to be suffocated by the taste of salty tears and domestic violence in the air. He came back late, much later than he should have.
Thank god, neither of his parents were home, and his brother was already off to college by then. When they weren't screaming at each other, physically assaulting their son, or neglecting him, his parents were either off to work, or hanging out with their sketchy friends, drinking all of their responsibilities (like their children) away like nothing else mattered.
Or so he thought.
Because the next thing he knew, his mother was shrieking at him, hitting him with the same hands that should have been cradling his face. And when his bastard of a father heard the commotion, it was almost like he was excited, excited to have an excuse to put his son in a chokehold. It seemed like the only time that his parents wanted to agree with each other was when they could hurt him.
As his lungs closed in on him, his choked breaths gasping for air while Jake tried to pry his father's hands off his neck, he felt light-headed, a fuzzy feeling filling his head until his body lost all its strength.
Jake swore that he would have died that night, if it weren't for the barks of the family dog.
If his perception of family, love, and marriage wasn't already warped, that early morning of his seventeenth birthday did.
He vowed to himself then and there, that he would never get married, nor would he ever start a family.
Yet, as you held him in your arms, enveloping him with warmth as hot tears streamed down his face, Jake could feel all his resolve slipping away.
Indeed, his vow held up. It held up all throughout college and for years into his adulthood. He became known as the "single friend," the friend that was always the designated driver because he'd rather die than consume a drop of alcohol.
But then you pranced your way into his life.
You, with your beautiful face. You, with the brightest smile that he'd ever seen. You, with the softest, most gentle touch.
When you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing tender kisses against the nape of his neck as you giggled a soft,"I love you," Jake's heart pummeled to his stomach.
It was suffocating.
His hands were clammy, so moist with sweat that he had to wipe his palms on his jeans. His chest would pound, loud enough for it to be the only sound filling his ears. His stomach twisted, a hot coil curling in his abdomen. It was nauseating.
But the worst was what he felt in his throat.
Something wicked— Something overwhelming and painful— clambered up his throat. It wrapped itself around his neck, pulling tight like the noose his mother threatened to put around her own neck. When it crawled up to his mouth, Jake nearly threw it up. He tried to swallow it down, but he gagged.
And it was already too late.
He'd already muttered the words, "I love you, too" back.
Love was terrifying. If he loved, what would happen? Would he get married, and enter a life of pure misery?
And what if he had kids?
When Jake was angry and he looked in the mirror, he hated the way that all he saw was his father's eyes staring back at him. His mother always told him that he looked like his father anyway.
Jake knew he wouldn't. He would never lay a finger on another person, let alone his own kin. But as days and years passed, his voice only sounded more and more like his own father's. He couldn't help the way his expressions scarily resembled his mother's, the same ones that he'd seen contort into fear, wrath, and indifference.
But here he was.
In the dark, his face was buried in your shoulder, the same ones that he'd kissed. You patted his back as he let out sobs, wet and salty tears wetting your skin.
It was another night, where you and him would hang out and flirt in your apartment, maybe do a little kissing.
Maybe he shouldn't have laid down with you. Maybe he shouldn't have let you put your fingers in his hair, stroking it gently as he laid on your chest. Maybe he shouldn't have listened to your every word as you traced his face, muttering to him everything about him that you loved about him. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have. Especially when you ended it all with a kiss to his eyelids, whispering into his ear, "I can't wait to marry you one day."
Jake always did his best to contain his emotions. After all, he'd learn to do it so well because of his home life. No one had to know about his struggles.
Yet he couldn't help the wave of emotions that crashed down on his shoulders. One moment, he was smiling in your kiss, the next his face was wet.
It didn't help when you were so warm to him. You cradled his face, kissing his tears away, hands holding him like he was a piece of glass.
"I'm scared," was all he could say.
Because that was all he felt in that moment.
Fear.
Fear, because he couldn't figure out why he was crying.
Fear, because now all his emotions were spilling out.
Fear, because you said you wanted to marry him.
Fear, because he, too, wanted to marry you.
You didn't let him go that night.
You stayed there with him, letting him cry into your shoulder until the sun rose. You didn't know why exactly, but the way he gripped your waist like you'd leave him was enough to tell you.
"I know, I know," you'd whispered into his ear. "I know, Baby."
All he did in response was pull you closer, and chant your name like it was a prayer, like you were his god and he was your worshiper.
Jake's favorite memory was the sound of wailing.
Not the wailing of his mother, not the wailing of his older brother, but the wailing of the child in your arms.
He could only watch with misty eyes as the small newborn clung to your chest, loud crying filling the hospital room.
"Jakey," you said weakly, flashing him a smile. "Look what we made."
We.
That's right.
This child was his and yours. As he held the baby, being careful not to do anything stupid, Jake stared into its crying eyes (as if his eyes weren't crying, too).
When Jake looked at his child, he saw his eyes. He saw the same eyes that his own father gave him. He wasn't filled with fear, or anger, or guilt— he felt love.
This child didn't have his father's angry eyes, the eyes that Jake spent his entire life believing he inherited.
No, this child had Jake's eyes, Jake's eyes that were filled with love.
You giggled softly as you watched your husband's intent and utterly fascinated gaze at your child. He snapped his head up at you.
"I love you," he blurted. He didn't say it a lot. It felt like poison on his tongue when he did, something unnatural and not meant for him. But in that moment, it felt like his entire being was made to say it. "God, I love you so much."
Yes, Jake would run.
He'd run, and run, and run, from love.
He'd run as far as he could, until his legs gave out.
He'd run for eternity, because he knew that one day, he'd walk to you.
𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍
desc. │ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ!ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. “ꜰɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ,ʙᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜱ ᴇᴀꜱʏ” ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴀʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.
warnings. │ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɢᴏʀᴇ, ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀꜱ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴛᴡɪʟɪɢʜᴛ ʟᴏᴡᴋᴇʏ.
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍.
I fw Angst sm
pairing: lando norris X american!reader / mclaren photographer!reader and slight pato o'ward X reader
warnings: swearing
summary: a remix of my fic wanna be yours in social media au form. or basically lando and the reader both being in love with each other but being too stubborn and scared to say anything so they suffer in silence until one finally crumbles.
contains: best friends to slight strangers to lovers, pining, angst, jealous!lando, asshole!lando, clueless!lando, and perhaps a little lando or pato? situation.
masterlist
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
may 5th, 2024
liked by landonorris, y/bsf, oscarpiastri and 100,000 others
y/n.jpg: miami baby! i think the guy in the second pic won some kind of race involving super fast cars but i could be wrong.
landonorris: who is that guy???? he's really good looking...
↳ y/n.jpg: i think his name is lando onewin.
↳ landonorris: bye. that doesn't even work.
user1: you always take such good pics of lando.. thank u queen
user2: lando always being the first to comment. dude's down bad lol
y/bsf: the kids miss you. please come home.
may 6th, 2024
may 8th, 2024
may 9th, 2024
liked by landonorris, mclaren, patricooward and 200,000 others
y/n.jpg: back at the mtc today for a very special reason! everyone was there to celebrate my amazing photography skills and editing on all the pictures from the season so far! lando was even kind enough to show up with a trophy to give to me! i love my job <3
in all seriousness. could not be more proud of you lando!!! it's been a long time coming, but we both know it's only the beginning!
landonorris: that awkward moment when you tried to take the trophy from me....
↳ y/n.jpg: DON'T SAY THAT PEOPLE ARE GONNA THINK IT'S TRUE.
↳ landonorris: i'll make sure they engrave the next one with your name too.
↳ y/n.jpg: ok but as long as my name is listed first.
mclaren: our favorite photographer ❤️ -liked by author
user1: ok but where is y/n's trophy fr??? she's hands down one of the best photographers in the game rn.
user2: y/n and lando you are so dear to me
user3: pato in the likes??
↳ user4: y/n used to work for arrow mclaren before working for mclaren f1. also pato is literally the reserve driver for f1 this season... honestly the web that is y/n, lando, and pato intertwines so much it's kinda crazy...
may 11th, 2024
may 14th, 2024
y/n.jpg added to their story
landonorris replied to your story
↳ WHY WOULD YOU POST THAT??? IT'S MORE THAN A JUMPSCARE!
oscarpiastri replied to your story
↳ why do you always catching me folding in front of lando like that :/
may 15th, 2024
may 19th, 2024
liked by y/bsf, oscarpiastri, patricooward and 100,000 others
y/n.jpg: imola 2024.
y/bsf: best photographer in the world. i love you!!! -liked by author
user1: not even a pic of lando's car.... oh no :/
user2: no funny caption... no lando like or comment... guys we are in the trenches
user3: we love you y/n! -liked by author
may 21st, 2024
y/n.jpg added to their story
landonorris replied to your story
↳ what the hell?
﹆ WITH AND WITHOUT — LHS
⌕ where lee heeseung realises he messed up too bad
𖦹 pairing. toxic!bf! lee heeseung x f!reader w.c. 0.7k tw/cw. cursing, implications of cheating at end genre. angst/hurt sru's note. pls don't let this flop TT ( CATALOGUE?! )
¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!
heeseung's head aches more than ever, and for every second that he stares at the minimalist silver pendant sitting still between your collarbones, it's thin silver chain hugging your neck ever so softly, it aches even more.
and now it's the time for his heart. he physically cringes out of guilt when he watches you retract your hand away from his. he just wants to hold your hand in his, wants to embrace the soft warmth that once felt like home, that cosy and cordial sensation that gave him butterflies.
but now that is long gone.
it started with heeseung really. from your shoulders missing the embrace of his arm to his cheeks missing your tickling, feathery kiss. neither of you know when this started; an invisible wall growing between you two, and all you can do is sit and watch, letting the wall increase the distance you've already built in between you both.
“you should focus on the movie instead”, your tone is boring, maybe even annoyed. or maybe none, heeseung simply doesn't know. he can't concentrate on whatever's playing in front of him, his eyes are fixed on your necklace, sending such visuals to his brain out of which he can only think of scenarios that hammers his heart even more.
the pendants’ a heart. it's a fucking heart.
“yeah, i am”, heeseung lies, again. just like the way he lied to you three months ago saying he would definitely attend your birthday party albeit his rough basketball practice.
you searched for your boyfriend's compelling face for hours that evening. waited for him the whole night, an hour passed by, then two, then three. every face in your apartment left and the one that should've been there by your side on the couch, holding you in his arms and kissing you all over, was not there. lee heeseung indeed broke his promise that day, along with a piece of you.
“really? what just happened right now then?”, you yawn, munching on the caramel popcorn, a flavour you didn't really like. but heeseung is unable to answer your question right now, he doesn't find enough words to formulate a sentence and explain why he didn't really know what was going on in the movie. his eyes just mindlessly read over the subtitles at the bottom of the screen not really getting the context behind it, there are more vital thoughts in the back of his head, eating him alive in this moment.
heeseung mentally curses himself for instances that took place months ago. instances which once broke your heart, you cried over it, burying your face in the pillow and then eventually forgetting about it. instances that heeseung never cared enough to think about twice before going to bed, or use to reflect on his actions or even think about it.
but suddenly heeseung wishes he could go back in time and return to your birthday party that evening, he wishes he was not that casual to flirt with your best friend in front of you, he wishes he hadn't caused those meaningless arguments with you, he wishes he'd never told you that his ex was better. heeseung wishes he was a better boyfriend for you.
“this one new?”, and heeseung's eyes are back on the necklace you were wearing, it's dainty silver heart infuriating him even more and he can't find the reason why. why the fuck can't he recognize the necklace?
“this one?”, you very well know which one he means when you point at the silver necklace on your neck, or else why will you be sitting with your cardigan pushed all the way down to your collarbones? “you gave it to me, don't you remember?”, you smile.
“not really”, heeseung trails off, a smile from you felt odd after days of cold shoulder from you. it doesn't feel genuine though, so he returns another fake smile hoping you wouldn't notice, “maybe i forgot.”
heeseung can never forget, never ever when it comes to you. he might have been the worst boyfriend ever but he's dying for your touch right now, maybe playing hard to get in your own relationship got him? he can't bet on being ‘good boyfriend’ all over again, he knows he fucked up. but he can bet on one thing though.
he swears and he swears to god and all his 23 years of life, he has never bought that necklace for you.
‘cause why the fuck would it have a ‘J’ engraved on it?
© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.
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