Megumi's Daycare Teacher Adores You. You're Always On Time For Pickup, And Megumi Physically Lights Up

megumi's daycare teacher adores you. you're always on time for pickup, and megumi physically lights up when he sees you, no matter how much he likes to deny it. he's quick to walk, or waddle, into your arms as you press a kiss to both cheeks and ask how his day was. she thinks you and him are the epitome of a good monther-son relationship.

so imagine her surprise when you say, “oh and tomorrow, i can't pick megs up. my husband will come get him, his name is toji, you can't miss him.”

she'd never met your husband before. it got her wondering, what was he like? was he as kind and affectionate as you were? perhaps megumi was the same around him?

“...why are you here?”

her mouth falls open. was that any way to speak to his father? why was he so openly hostile? she thought hoped that your husband was like you, not your total opposite!

he was tall, heads above her with dark hair and matching dark eyes. he's intimidating, muscles flexing under his shirt as he folds his arms and smirk decorated with a scar. she sees the resemblance between him and megumi. that was definitely his daddy.

she's sweating buckets; standing between a father who looks like kills for a living and a son that's sulking because his mother wasn't there was not for the weak.

“to pick ya up.” toji answers with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

she blinks. it seemed normal?

“where's mama?”

“workin'.”

“until when?”

“'til later.”

“that's not a time.”

“it is to me.”

megumi's pout deepens, his brows furrowing at his father's avoidance of the question. the daycare teacher swears she catches toji's eyes soften as he changes his answer, “'til eight.”

the two adults watch the cogs turn in the toddler's head.

“....'kay. i'll go with you, then.”

toji scoffs affectionately, “quit actin' like yer being kidnapped.”

this time, she swears megumi smiles before he huffs and sticks his nose up, begrudgingly allowing himself to be hoisted up into the arms of his father, who gives her a quick nod as he walks away.

what an odd father-son relationship.

˒˓

you're there to pick megumi up the following day, and boy does he look happy about it. he speed-walks to your side, reaching up to hold onto your pointer finger.

“i'm glad it's you and not dad,” megumi says, chubby cheeks emphasised by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

you look down from your conversation with yuji's dad and, only having heard the latter half of his sentence, respond, “your father? he's in the car, honey.”

and the daycare teacher swears on everything holy that she heard three-year-old megumi curse under his breath.

but that is hopefully just her imagination.

Megumi's Daycare Teacher Adores You. You're Always On Time For Pickup, And Megumi Physically Lights Up

►DANCING WITH THE DEVIL #004: FINALE [Sunghoon.]

Parts ‣ #001 | ‣ #002 | ‣ #003 | ‣ #004: Prelude | ‣ #004: Finale

Abstract: Eight years have passed since you betrayed Park Sunghoon, leaving his fate shrouded in uncertainty. You thought you'd left that world behind, but the serial killings in the capital city —which bore a haunting resemblance to that in your past—pulled you right back into the shadows you once escaped. What began as a quest to prove your worth soon unraveled into something far more sinister: a labyrinthine network of power, deceit, and danger hidden beneath a veneer of opulence.Now, amidst the grandeur of a castle steeped in blood-soaked tradition, you find yourself, once again, entangled with Sunghoon—a ghost from your past whose motives remain as inscrutable as ever. The stakes are now higher, the games deadlier, and survival feels like chasing a mirage. As you navigate a web of twisted rituals and deadly alliances, the tension between you and Sunghoon ignites once again.But this time, the game is different. With whispers of betrayal and lingering wounds threatening to consume you both, you must decide if trust is a risk worth taking—because in doing so, you are not just exposing the truths they've hidden, but also the feelings you’ve fought so hard to suppress and bury.

Parts ‣ #001 | ‣ #002 | ‣ #003 | ‣ #004: Prelude | ‣ #004: Finale

Genre: vampire!sunghoon | horror | thriller | fantasy | romance (or is it? 😋)||| wc: ~13.2k

Featuring: Anton from Riize. [ PSA! ] There's also a Jaeyun here -- this is actually Enhypen Jake lol. Soz, no one fits the role that Jaeyun has in here better than Dark Blood Jake so I plead you guys to just go along and imagine that the Jake in Part 1-3 and Jaeyun in this Part are two different people ((who happen to look alike)) HAHAH

Warnings: blood; violence; injuries (some are self-inflicted); suggestiveness (some are forced); mentions of crimes (missing persons, murder, serial killings); manipulation; toxicity; trauma.

A/N: because Part 4 is too long, I had to split it into two parts and this is the 2nd part, the Finale. So if you're new to Part 4, please start with the Prelude first if you haven't :>

— xi

The gates groaned open, their rusted hinges echoing like a death knell through the oppressive stillness. Beyond them, the maze stretched into darkness, its towering hedges jagged and irregular, as if the structure itself had grown wild and angry over centuries. You stood among the others at the entrance, the flickering torchlight casting distorted shadows across their pale faces. Fear lingered in the air, clinging like smoke.

The host’s voice rang out, its unnerving cheer slicing through the tension. “Thirty minutes!” he announced. “That’s the grace period you’ve earned, dear victors. Thirty minutes to navigate the maze and claim your freedom. Once the thirty minutes is up, your claimants will descend and should you get captured then your fate is sealed in blood and eternity."

The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the night, and chaos erupted. Humans surged forward like a desperate tide, plunging into the maze’s gaping maw.

It didn’t take long for the maze to reveal its true nature.

Branches lunged like claws, snagging at clothes and tearing through skin. You flinched as a woman ahead of you stumbled, her sleeve caught and shredded. Blood welled from her arm, the crimson stark against her pale skin. A man further ahead tripped, his cry piercing as a hidden root twisted around his ankle, sending him sprawling. His hand scraped against a jagged stone, a deep gash splitting his palm.

“It’s a... trap,” you muttered under your breath, the pieces clicking into place. Every twisted path seemed designed to injure, every branch poised to tear flesh. Every movement, every stumble left behind the scent of blood, marking them like a beacon. The maze wasn’t a challenge; it was a slaughterhouse, designed to render them helpless before the hunt even began.

You glanced back toward the castle, your breath catching as you spotted the vampires in the Grand Hall beyond the glass-paneled windows. Warm light spilled out, casting golden reflections on the darkened grounds. They lounged at long tables, wine glasses glinting in their hands as they laughed and gestured. It wasn’t chaos to them; it was entertainment. A grotesque theater of blood and desperation, framed perfectly for their amusement.

Resolve hardened in your chest. You weren’t going to play their game.

Turning sharply, you broke away from the panicked crowd and ran back toward the castle. The thought struck you with chilling clarity as your feet pounded against the ground: the staff had been dismissed, the mortals were in the maze. The castle wasn’t just the safest place to escape the hunt—it was the perfect trap as inside those walls, only vampires remained.

There was no way you would let the maze tear you apart piece by piece. If they wanted a game, you’d give them one on your own terms. And so with bold and calculated steps, you headed back, but instead of the Grand Hall where vampires lounged with glasses of wine in hand, reveling in their twisted theater of blood and desperation, you headed deeper—to the cellar you’d stumbled upon yesterday while frantically searching for a first-aid kit after finding Sunghoon bloodied at the foot of your bed.

Back then, you hadn’t paid much attention—your mind consumed with stopping the bleeding. But the sight had lingered: towering racks of bottles and colossal barrels stacked like monoliths. Most importantly, you recalled how the cellar was situated directly beneath the Grand Hall—a precarious foundation for a room already weathered by centuries. Its position alone made it a powder keg waiting for a spark.

Now, as you descended the spiral staircase once more, your steps were deliberate, your breaths steady. The cellar stretched before you, even larger than you’d remembered. Rows of barrels lined the space, their labels faded but still legible in the dim light: port, sherry, even brandy. The air was thick, carrying the faint tang of aged wine and the sharper bite of spirits—a volatile combination.

You moved quickly, tipping barrels one by one. Thick liquid gushed out, pooling across the stone floor in a growing lake. As the pungent scent of wine filled the air, an idea struck you: a trail. The fire couldn’t stay confined to the cellar—it needed to climb, to reach the vampires in their gilded cage above.

Grabbing an uncorked bottle from the shelves, you dipped it into the pooling wine and began creating a path. The liquid splashed as you worked, leaving a continuous, glistening line up the stairs and toward the hall’s entrance. When the first bottle ran dry, you spotted a smaller cask labeled lamp oil. Without hesitation, you tipped it into the mix, thickening the trail. Your hands moved with precision, painting a path meant to spark chaos.

At the top of the staircase, you paused, heart pounding. The torchlight flickered in your grip as you surveyed your work. The lake of wine and spirits in the cellar. The trail snaking upward. The puddle pooling at the hall’s threshold. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. You recalled overhearing a maid speaking about the Grand Hall—its ancient foundations riddled with cracks and shored up by makeshift supports. If any place in the castle would collapse under fire, it was here.

But, as your surveyed the trail you'd left, you knew it wasn’t enough. You needed chaos. You needed to bait them. You need to cover all the loopholes. Maximise the impact.

So you swiftly reached for the dagger concealed in your garter belt, your eyes darting for a spot to make the sacrifice. Your forearm. Without hesitation, you pressed the blade against your skin, slicing deeper than ever before—this time, you needed more. A sharp sting shot through you, making your breath hitch, but you didn’t falter. Blood welled instantly, warm and vivid, tracing the edge of the wound like liquid fire. With hurried yet deliberate steps, you smeared your blood on the walls leading down to the cellar.

All your near-death interactions with vampires teaches you one important thing: they do not think when it comes to fresh blood when desperation hits.They are creatures of impulse and in the desperation stoked by an inferno—yet another exploitable weakness—the smoke and heat would confuse their senses, leaving the scent of fresh blood as their only compass. Thus, just like how the maze was meant to draw blood—you’d turned their weapon against them, your blood would lead them straight to the hottest part of the castle.

Once you decided blood had strategically been spread enough in certain key locations, you wrapped a torn fabric from your gown tightly—trying to staunch the bleeding before you set your plan in motion.

Your torch flickered ominously, its light casting jagged shadows across the stone walls. It was time.

Crouching low, you ignited the flammable trail at the midpoint of the staircase. Immediately, flames surged to life, spreading upward and downward with terrifying speed. The fire roared as it consumed the path you’d created, its glow painting the narrow corridor in hues of gold and crimson.

You didn’t wait to see the inferno take hold. Spinning on your heel, you darted into a nearby passage—a maid’s shortcut you had overheard during your time wandering the castle. The narrow corridor was damp, the air thick with mildew, but it offered a chance to slip past the chaos you’d unleashed.

When you emerged, the familiar Eastern end of the Corridors of Treachery loomed before you, its twisting halls stretching endlessly into shadow. But this time, you didn’t falter. One last thing, you thought, your steps confident and resolute as you opened a door—the Library.

This was your next target.

The blaze below would cripple them, but the knowledge contained in this room—the ancient texts, the records of their lineage and power—it needed to be destroyed. If the castle was to fall, their legacy must, too, for every words here were like poison, waiting to be unleashed by the next power-hungry bloodsucker.

Your steps were steady as you made your way to the shelves, already knowing where to go. The Obsidian Testament waited for you in its usual place, its ominous presence untouched even amidst the growing chaos. The moonlight spilled through the tall windows, catching the hidden coat of arms engraved on its cover—a silent reminder of Sunghoon’s bloodline, regal and intricate, yet tainted by the weight of its history.

Without hesitation, you lit the edge of the book, watching as the flames began their ravenous work. The coat of arms—so proud, so immovable—gradually crumbled under the heat. You hurled it onto a growing pile of texts, the fire spreading hungrily across the brittle pages.

Let it all burn.

“I knew it was you—" a voice pierced through the sound of crackling flames and the ominous groan of weakening wood.

Jaeyun.

He strode forward with a deliberate, menacing pace, his hand sweeping back his golden hair in a single, frustrated motion. The movement exposed his sharp, angular features. Gone was the mischievous grin that had once softened him, replaced by a cold, predatory expression that turned his beauty into something terrifying.

“I was going to grant you an escape and this—" he roared, “is how you repay me?!”

“As if,” you spat scornfully, “I saw the layout of the maze the other day from the tower–it’s a labyrinth, all towering hedges and twisting paths. No flowers, no statues, no space for anything but confusion. So the moment you told me of statues as the hint for escape, I knew you were trying to bait me."

He scoffed, dragging his sword behind him, the blade scraping against the ground with a grating hiss. The nearby flames cast flickering shadows across his face, making his sneer all the more menacing, “I get it now. You chose me exactly because you needed me here. If you had chosen Sunghoon, you knew I’d left the castle and gone after you–"

You stepped back instinctively, his sneer slowly twisting, faltering into a grimace that betrayed the quiet fury simmering beneath the surface. “You chose me,” he continued, each word dripping with venom, “to trick him. To let him escape this carnage you’ve been planning.”

He didn’t flinch as burnt books tumbled from the crumbling shelves, landing in smouldering heaps around him. His grimace deepened, a bitter edge curling his lips. “How disgustingly cliché.”

“You read too much fairytales.” you hissed, your voice cutting through the crackling of the flames. “I chose you because I knew what a narcissistic, overconfident, manipulative prick you are. I knew you’d let your guard down the moment your name is picked and that is all I needed to take this whole place down. To take the rot down.”

The taunt landed like a strike, and Jaeyun lunged. His speed was startling, and before you could react, your back slammed against a nearby wall. The impact forced the breath from your lungs, your body pinned as his eyes—blazing with a fury to match the fire—bore into yours.

Fuck, you thought, the heat pressing against your skin, the air growing heavier with smoke. At this rate, even you might not escape the fire.

But you’d banked on this. Vampires were slaves to their emotions when pushed to the brink. Jaeyun could have fled. He could have saved himself. Instead, here he was, his rage blinding him to the inferno that threatened to consume them both.

“I can still reap you now,” he snarled, his fangs elongating to their full, menacing length. “You’d be my 100th you know. Two cycles of reaping, countless bodies left in my wake, and still standing. Do you think your little bonfire will end me? Pray harder.”

His hand tightened around your throat, pressing you harder against the wall. The pressure wasn’t just threatening—it was exactly what you needed. His body leaned closer, his focus narrowed to you and his fury. This was the calculated risk you’d taken: baiting him to lose control, to get close enough for you to finish this. And he had proven you right.

You could have fled, but you hadn’t. You’d gambled on his inability to walk away from the stage you’d set ablaze. Jaeyun, the cunning puppeteer, wouldn’t let his masterpiece burn without trying to stop it. His pride wouldn’t allow it. And now, blinded by anger, he failed to notice the flames inching closer, the smoke curling around his form.

“Big talk,” you rasped, your voice steady beneath his crushing grip. “And yet… you’ve already lost.”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion cutting through the storm of rage. For a split second, his body tensed—but then his gaze dropped.

There, plunged deep into his abdomen, was your dagger. The blade caught the firelight, its hilt adorned with a small charm bearing Sunghoon’s crest. The ruby glinted wickedly, its light reflecting the chaos of the flames around you.

Jaeyun’s grip faltered, his hand loosening slightly as blood, dark and thick, bloomed through his shirt, and you didn’t hesitate. Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you shoved him off, wrenching the blade free as you bolted out of the library. The flames roared louder now, licking hungrily at the walls, their heat pressing against your back.

But you didn’t make it far. A force barrelled into you, slamming you to the ground with a weight that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Fucking get off me—” you gasped, twisting under his grip.

Jaeyun was on top of you, pinning you with an iron hold. His nails had elongated into claws, sharp and gleaming in the firelight. He pressed them against your neck, just enough to draw thin lines of blood.

“Look at you—squirming like a wounded rabbit. How adorable,” he murmured, his voice soft but dripping with cruel amusement. His weight crushed you against the stone floor, unforgiving and cold beneath you. He forced your head to an unnatural angle, his claws digging deeper, anchoring you helplessly in place.

"Haven't you heard? struggling makes the blood sweeter," he drawled, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, his breathing hot and heavy, "so go ahead—struggle all you want, you are just sweetening my feast."

His tongue dragged across the cut he’d made, slow and deliberate, a mocking gesture that sent a shiver of revulsion down your spine. “Ah,” he exhaled sharply, shuddering in such a revolting way, “there it is—so much sweeter when you fight.” The words dripped from his lips like venom, each syllable a mockery of your helplessness. He lingered, the softness of his lips a deliberate contrast to the sharp sting of his claws. It was as if he was deliberately prolonging the act to rattle you—to cut where it hurts the most: your autonomy and dignity.

“Do you think he tasted you like this?” he whispered, his lips brushing the edge of the wound in deliberate malice and intimacy, relishing in your revulsion and savouring the power he held over you and every flicker of your discomfort. “Or is this my privilege alone?”

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. “I wonder…” he murmured, his voice curling with mock tenderness, “does he know how much sweeter you become when you squirm?” His claws pressed harder, the sharp sting blossoming into pain, his next words cutting deeper than his nails ever could. “Or is that just for me too?”

The sharpness of his teeth grazed your neck, far too close, far too sharp—sharper than you remembered Sunghoon’s ever being. Your breath hitched, panic clawing at the edges of your mind, the firelight around you seeming to flicker with your racing pulse. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable—

But then instead of pain. You felt the weight lifted.

A rush of air and heat overwhelmed you as Jaeyun was torn away. Your body trembled, the world tilting for a moment. When you clambered back to your feet, you saw them—two figures clashing across the corridor, their movements a blur amidst glowing embers and smoke-choked air.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun.

The firelight cast jagged shadows across the walls, illuminating the ferocity of their battle.

Sunghoon’s strikes were calculated, but desperation bled into each swing of his blade—precise yet strained. His strength, though formidable, seemed frayed at the edges, each swing costing him more than the last. As he stepped closer to the firelight, you saw it clearly: the cuts marring his face and the dark smudges of ash clinging to his disheveled clothing. He must’ve faced other vampires on his way here, you thought.

In contrast, Jaeyun moved with unnerving ease, his blows quick and unrelenting, each one a chilling display of power. The oppressive heat and smoke clawed at the air, suffocating and disorienting, but Jaeyun seemed untouched—his strength unfaltering, a cruel testament to the reaping cycles that had forged him into something far beyond human, even vampiric.

“You came just in time, Romeo.” Jaeyun sneered, sidestepping a blow with maddening grace. "Did you see how perfectly she fits in my hand?" he taunted as he swung his blade, forcing Sunghoon back, "ah—and her taste. Her warm skin. The way she shivered. You know, if you hadn't interrupted, I’d have heard her make that sound again. You know the one—soft, breathless, perfect."

It was revolting to hear him say those filthy words but at that moment your dignity took a backseat for all you could think of was Sunghoon. As if Jaeyun knew exactly how to play with someone's mind, Sunghoon’s strikes came faster, heavier—but clumsier. Fury bled into every swing, the precision of his usual attacks dulled by anger. Then their swords met with a thunderous crash, the force sending sparks flying as both pressed forward, neither giving ground. Sunghoon’s chest heaved, his labored breaths a stark contrast to Jaeyun’s unnerving composure, his taunting smirk growing wider.

Jaeyun continued, his voice dripping with cruel amusement, “but I guess you wouldn’t know, would you? She has never let you touch her like that, has she?” His grin sharpened, his next words a venomous whisper. “Not the way she let me, at least.”

Sunghoon charged again, his blows landing harder than before, but Jaeyun danced out of reach, his blade glinting in the firelight, "—because she will never accept you the way you are Sunghoon," his voice was laced with mock pity, "you're just another bloodthirsty beast."

Then, with a sudden shift, Jaeyun lunged, forcing Sunghoon back with a flurry of heavy strikes. “You should’ve stopped pretending to be noble and reaped her,” he hissed, his blows driving Sunghoon toward the corner. “That’s the only way you’ll ever have her.” His grin twisted into something darker as he leaned closer, delivering the final barb. “And maybe—just maybe—it would’ve brought back the strength you used to have because this…” Jaeyun’s blade pressed closer, his eyes gleaming with disdain. “—is just pathetic.”

You swallowed thickly for the odds doesn't seem to stack up for Sunghoon. Your body reacted instinctively to go after him, but his gaze stopped you cold. The sharp jerk of his head said it all: Run.

But you couldn’t.

Then their blades clashed again, the sharp ring echoing through the suffocating heat. Sunghoon’s strikes, though deliberate, were slower now, his movements burdened by the corner he’d been forced into. The stone wall pressed against his back, leaving him little room to manoeuver. Yet even there, with Jaeyun bearing down on him, his defiance burned brighter.

“You can amass all the power and influence you want,” Sunghoon said through gritted teeth, his blade locking with Jaeyun’s in a deadly stalemate. His voice was low but cutting, his eyes blazing with quiet fury. “But you’ll never be able to claim something you’ve never had the right to.”

"The blood you take," Sunghoon shoved him back with a surge of strength, their blades separating with a hiss of steel, "won't make yours anymore purer. It just taints you irreparably."

Jaeyun froze for the briefest moment as if the words had landed exactly where they were meant to. The smirk on his lips faltered, not gone but strained, like a mask beginning to crack.

"That is probably why," Sunghoon continued, his strikes growing sharper, each one cutting closer, "my very existence riles you so isn't it? even when I've never made any moves to challenge your house of cards?"

Jaeyun’s movements lost some of their calculated ease, his strikes heavier but less precise, each blow betraying his frustration. The tables had turned and now it was Jaeyun’s turn to be riled up, his composure unraveling with every word.

Sensing the shift, Sunghoon adjusted his stance, lowering his weight in anticipation. Jaeyun lunged, his overconfidence driving him forward—but Sunghoon was ready. With a blur of motion, he pivoted sharply, driving his shoulder into Jaeyun’s chest with brutal force. The impact sent Jaeyun sprawling backward, skidding across the debris-strewn floor until he collided with a broken pillar.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. Before Jaeyun could recover, he closed the distance with unrelenting precision, dropping to one knee and driving his blade into Jaeyun’s exposed abdomen. The force of the strike pinned Jaeyun to the ground, his body jerking under the weight of the blow. Blood bloomed instantly, dark and thick, pooling across the cracked stone beneath them. Jaeyun hissed, his hands clawing at the blade embedded in his torso. For a moment, it seemed as though Sunghoon had won. You held your breath, hope flickering to life.

Then, Jaeyun’s lips curled into a bloodied smirk. “You're nowhere enough,” he rasped, his voice laced with venom, “—of a challenge Sunghoon.”

It was only then you noticed it—Jaeyun’s own blade, slick with Sunghoon’s blood, had been driven deep into his flank. You hadn’t seen the strike. Neither had Sunghoon. But there it was, protruding cruelly through his abdomen, crimson spreading across his shirt like spilled ink.

“Sunghoon!” The name tore from your lips, sharp and raw. You stepped forward instinctively, but before you could reach him, the ceiling above groaned ominously. A massive chunk of debris collapsed, slamming into the ground between you and them.

The impact sent you stumbling back, coughing as a thick cloud of smoke and dust billowed around you. “No—” you rasped, your voice cracking as you strained to see through the haze.

Sunghoon gritted his teeth, his knuckles tightening on his blade, though he didn’t withdraw. Nor did he stagger nor falter. Instead, he shifted his weight forward, his strength bearing down on the blade, every ounce of effort ensuring Jaeyun couldn’t push him off.

“You sure about that?” Sunghoon rasped, his voice hoarse and strained.

Jaeyun’s smirk twisted into confusion as his eyes darted down. Horror dawned as he saw Sunghoon’s blood streaming from his wound, dripping steadily onto the gaping injury in Jaeyun’s abdomen—the wound you had inflicted earlier. The reaction was instantaneous. Frost-like patterns spreading outward from the contact point, jagged and unrelenting, crystallising his torso and limbs, locking him in place. His claws scrambled at the stone floor, scraping against it in desperation as his body stiffened. His voice cracked, teetering on the edge of panic. “No-no—you—“

You recalled an excerpt from The Annals of Kings—a fleeting detail about how the blood of a Pureblood, though inert on the skin of another vampire, becomes lethal toxin when mingled with another’s wounds—an alchemical reaction born of their cursed lineage. And therein lay the tragedy: the blood they so revered—the symbol of their purity, power, and immortality—was also their undoing. The very essence that granted them supremacy over all others carried the seeds of their destruction, a cruel paradox embedded in their existence.

You realized then what Sunghoon had allowed Jaeyun to do. He hadn’t just been defending himself; he had turned his own wound into a weapon. Sunghoon had weaponized the very thing their kind held sacred, knowing it would be Jaeyun’s end—even as it left him vulnerable to his own impending collapse. In heaving, ragged breaths, Sunghoon rasped, “I only finished what she started—". His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment the weight of his gaze—the unspoken truth behind his sacrifice—struck you harder than any blow.

Jaeyun regurgitated, his body stiffening as the crystal consumed him entirely, his face locked in a mask of rage and terror. A sharp crack echoed through the hall as his crystalline form splintered, into ashen dust, swirling briefly in the fiery glow before dissipating into the suffocating smoke, vanishing as though he had never existed.

Sunghoon staggered back from the remains, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His hands moved to the blade embedded in his flank, his fingers trembling as he gripped the hilt. With a sharp, agonized groan, he wrenched it free, the sound of metal against flesh almost drowned out by the crackling flames around him.

The moment the blade left his body, blood poured from the wound in thick, unrelenting streams. His face, already pale, lost what little colour it had left, the crimson staining his hands stark against his ashen skin. He swayed, his frame lurching unsteadily as though the weight of the air itself had become too much to bear.

And then he pitched forward, catching himself on trembling hands before he collapsed entirely. Blood dripped from his wound in heavy rivulets as his body sagged against the stone floor. For a moment, he seemed almost unrecognizable—so human in his fragility, so far from the invulnerable figure you had known.

You should have ran away then.

The exit was there, your path to freedom blazing clearly through the smoke and flames. You could have escaped—left behind the horrors that had haunted you, the chaos that had led you to this moment.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you ran toward him. Through the flames and falling debris, through the suffocating heat, you reached him. His weight sagged heavily against you as you tried to pull him upright, your arms straining with the effort.

His face was pale, slick with sweat, and streaked with soot. Blood continued to pour freely from his wound, dark and thick, in a way that was achingly human. His eyes, so often guarded and unreadable, now lay bare—soft and raw, stripped of all pretense.

“You’re stupid!” you choked out, your voice trembling as you pressed your hands against his wound, desperate to staunch the bleeding. “Why did you come back to the castle?”

“You’re the stupid one,” he rasped, a faint, ghostly smirk tugging at his cracked lips. “Why haven’t you run? I stalled long enough for you—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, panic lacing your words as you struggled to lift him again. His body was limp, heavier than you could manage alone, and he slumped back to his knees, his breathing shallow and laboured, each breath a fight.

He was worse off than the last time you’d patched him up—far worse—and the realization sent a jolt of fear through you. At this rate, neither of you would escape the flames. You’d both burn together in this crumbling castle.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice barely audible now, “we’ve bantered long enough.”

His body pitched forward, and you caught him instinctively. His weight collapsed into your arms, his head coming to rest weakly in the nook of your shoulder. You felt the faint brush of his lips against your skin—soft, fleeting, and entirely unlike the possessive ferocity you’d known from him. His hand trembled as it moved to your back, curling with a weak insistence, a stark contrast to the vice-like grip he had on you just hours ago.

“I’m letting you go now, y/n,” he whispered, his words a quiet confession, laced with both sorrow and resolve. “This is the only way I could ever let you go.”

Your breath hitched. You knew what he meant, and you didn’t want that. Perhaps you never did.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling but firm, the weight of your conviction cutting through the chaos around you. Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. Not yet.

Your hands moved with purpose, tearing the makeshift bandage from your arm. Blood pooled from the cut, rich and red, but you didn’t hesitate. “Take my blood, Sunghoon,” you demanded, thrusting your arm toward him. “Quickly. You need it—”

He shook his head weakly, his breaths shallow and uneven. “y/n, go,” he rasped, his voice barely audible above the roar of the flames. “We’re running out of time.”

“Damn it, Sunghoon!” you barked, desperation breaking through the cracks in your resolve. “You don’t get to tell me what to do—not now, not like this!”

His eyes, already losing focus, flickered with something—protest, perhaps, or regret. But you didn’t give him the chance. Before he could stop you, you brought your arm to your lips, the sharp metallic tang of blood filling your mouth. Without hesitation, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close, crushing your lips to his.

The transfer was immediate. You felt his body stiffen, his hand twitching weakly against your back in surprise. When you pulled away, his lips were stained crimson, his gaze dazed, unfocused.

“Is that enough?” you asked, your voice trembling. “it’s not right? take more.” You leaned closer, your breathing uneven as you tilted your head to the side. “Take it from my neck. That works best for you, doesn’t it?”

“y/n, stop—” he croaked, his voice fractured.

For a moment, you froze, your gaze locking onto his. The sight of him—so pale, so vulnerable, teetering on the edge of collapse—was unbearable, it was twisting your heart painfully. Frustration burned through you, hot and unrelenting.

“You’re making this hard,” you muttered under your breath, your voice shaking.

Before he could utter another word, you shifted upwards, wrapping your arms tightly over his shoulder, steadying him and angling yourself so that his face was close enough to your neck. “Bite me,” you whispered, your voice thick with both resolve and something far more raw. “I’ll let you.”

The hand he already had on your back shifted, his fingers curling faintly into the fabric of your gown, but it wasn’t a grip of possession, but one of desperation—as though he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his other hand began to move. Trembling, hesitant, it brushed against your shoulder, its path uncertain, as though he feared you might flinch or pull away.

The roughness of his palm met the curve of your neck, his touch both gentle and weighted. His fingers curled there, delicate yet unyielding, cradling the nape of your neck as though it was something fragile, irreplaceable. Each movement was deliberate, almost reverent, as if he was memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his hand.

It wasn’t the possessive grip you’d known before. This was something far more tender, far more devastating. It was as though his very existence hung by a thread, and you were the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.

“y/n. You don't understand. I’ve lost too much blood,” he murmured, his lips brushing featherlight against your neck. “I wouldn’t be able to stop—”

“I trust you,” you interrupted, your voice trembling but unyielding as you held him tighter. “I trust you, Sunghoon. I trust that you’ll take just enough to survive.”

His hold on you tightened as if trying to ground himself in the weight of your words. I trust you—the words hung between you, fragile yet immense. It was the very words he needed to hear all along; the very words you’ve fought so desperately not to feel, much less say.

Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, resolve. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the shadows of exhaustion etched into his features. The vulnerability in his gaze was a blade cutting both ways, and you knew it would haunt you long after this moment passed.

“I trust you,” you repeated softly, your voice unwavering this time.

Above you, debris crashed to the floor, the flames roaring louder. The heat was suffocating, the air thick with smoke, but you didn’t move. Neither did he. Time was slipping away, but in this moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

His expression twisted, as though your words had broken something in him. Pain flickered across his face—not just physical, but something deeper, something that had been buried for far too long. His hand, trembling now, reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, gentle and deliberate, as if committing the feel of you to memory. Then his hand shifted, cradling the side of your neck. His thumb grazed your skin, reverent, unhurried, as though this was both a goodbye and a plea to stay.

“We’re always at odds, aren’t we?” he murmured softly, "I asked you to run but you stayed. I asked you to save yourself, but you're trying to save me instead."

You grinned bitterly, “always.”

For a moment, his gaze lingered, searching yours, before he dipped his head into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, almost hesitant. Then the sharp prickle of pain came—a fleeting sting as his fangs broke your skin—but it was eclipsed by the strange, disarming lull that followed.

His grip on you tightened, his body pressing closer, desperate and unyielding. You could feel the urgency in every movement, the hunger in every pull of his lips against your skin. It was overwhelming, the pull of his fangs relentless, like he was drawing not just blood but something far deeper—something he couldn’t bear to lose.

You should have been terrified. You should have fought back.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Even as your vision blurred, as the edges of the world dissolved into the inferno raging around you, one truth anchored you to him:

You trusted him.

— xii

You woke with a jolt, a sharp gasp tearing through your chest as sterile, artificial air filled your lungs. The glaring white walls seemed to close in around you, their starkness more oppressive than calming. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly above, casting an antiseptic glow that made the space feel detached, clinical—eerily devoid of life.

Your gaze darted frantically across the room, your pulse racing with every detail that didn’t belong. There was no warmth here, no trace of familiarity. Just the suffocating stillness pressing down on you, as though the air itself had weight. For a terrifying moment, it felt like a void, a purgatory for fractured souls. Perhaps you were dead. After everything—the chaos, the blood, the flames—was this where it all ended?

A tremor passed through you, the memory of his voice, his face, flashing like a spark in the darkness. The desperation in his eyes. The warmth of his hand against yours, the fragile connection you clung to even as the world burned around you.

“Sunghoon?” The name slipped from your lips before you could stop it, trembling with hope and fear. It wasn’t just a question; it was a plea, a tether you threw into the void, praying it would hold. The sound of it shattered the oppressive silence, leaving a raw ache in its wake.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, and pain flared like lightning through your body. Every nerve screamed in protest—your ribs, your limbs, even the faintest breath. “Sunghoon?” you called again, louder this time, the desperation cracking through your voice.

You forced yourself upright, your bare feet meeting the icy bite of the tile floor. Your legs wobbled beneath you, your strength slipping like sand through your fingers. The IV pole clattered to the ground as you collapsed, clutching the bedframe in a desperate bid for balance.

The sound shattered the room’s oppressive quiet and almost immediately the door swung open with a sharp creak. Your heart leapt, relief surging through your veins. “Sungho—”

But it wasn’t him.

“y/n!” Anton’s voice cut through the tension as he hurried to your side, his face etched with concern. He dropped to his knees beside you, steadying your trembling frame. “What are you doing? You’re still too weak. Lie back down!”

“Anton,” you rasped, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. “Where’s Sunghoon?”

“Sunghoo—?” He frowned, confused, before realization dawned. “Ah, Mr. Park? y/n, he left weeks ago. Don’t you remember? He was called back to his headquarters. Some urgent matters in Prague.”

You shook your head vehemently, your grip on him tightening. “No, that’s not right. He was with me. He—”

“y/n,” Anton said gently but firmly, helping you back onto the bed. “you’ve been unconscious for 2 weeks—your mind is probably still foggy especially given all you had to endure. Don’t you remember? We held a farewell lunch for him? You were there, muttering spiteful things under your breath when he delivered his farewell speech.”

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. “We didn’t,” you whispered hoarsely. “He was—” The words died in your throat. You clung to the fragments of memory that felt more like splinters now. “What about the people then? and the- the castle?”

Anton’s sat beside you, voice gentle, “the castle is gone, razed to the ground. Some people were found scattered across the compound, but all of them had hazy memories—smoke inhalation and trauma-induced amnesia, according to the doctors. No signs of foul play though. Just a gas leak in an old building. The fire spread too fast.”

“How about casualties?” you asked, your mind flashing to the vampires that should be stuck in the hall.

Anton shook his head. “None. Just scattered jewelry and strange clothing pieces found in the halls—probably left behind by looters after the fire started. Authorities have investigated it thoroughly though and nothing indicates foul play. Even the castle’s owner isn’t pressing charges or requesting further inquiry.”

“But Sungh- someone – someone must have been with me,” you pressed on, the words stumbling out.

“y/n,” Anton repeated, his voice more serious now, “no one was. You were alone in the glasshouse. The only one unconscious, in fact. They theorised, given the proximity, you must have spent a lot of time inside compared to others which is why you were unconscious. But point is—investigations had been done and foul play is ruled out. Everyone is safe.”

“Every..." you echoed, “—no. I think there were some who didn’t— do you have a list? the guests? the survivo—" your words faltered as your head spun, a sharp pang cutting through the fog of your thoughts. You groaned, swaying unsteadily. Anton was quick to catch you, steadying your trembling form as he guided you to lean back against the bed.

"y/n, stop—" he said, his tone full of concern. "Look, you've been unconscious for almost 2 weeks. You're not in the right state of mind yet. Let me get the doctor first, okay? don’t move.”

You barely registered his words as you stared up at the sterile ceiling, your mind racing with fragmented memories. Sunghoon. The flames. The battle. His bloodied body against yours. The way he’d looked at you in those final moments—his eyes full of something unspoken, something that clung to you even now.

Instinctively, your hand rose to your neck, brushing against the skin there—and froze. Faint but undeniable, you felt it: a mark. His bite mark.

Your breath hitched as the weight of it sank in. It was the confirmation you needed. That he was real. That your memories weren’t muddled or fabricated. That he had been there.

For a moment, a spark of relief lit in your chest. He’d been there. You hadn’t imagined him. The connection you clung to wasn’t some fever dream born of smoke and fear.

But as your fingers lingered over the faint indentations, that spark dimmed, flickering under the weight of a new truth.

Anton had said you’d been unconscious for two weeks. Two weeks. Two weeks is a long time for someone like him to stay away. Too long.

Suddenly, the silence felt unbearable—crushing in its emptiness, each second a reminder of all the truths his absence could mean. Each one as cruel as the next.

— xiii

A month had passed, and unlike before—when you could sense Sunghoon in the shadows, catch the faintest trace of his cologne lingering in the air, or swear you felt his touch as you brushed past strangers—he was utterly, completely gone.

His absence was deafening.

So you buried yourself in work, to drown out the silence that followed you everywhere and to lock the memories away. Perhaps if you don’t think about it, the ache would dull. Even better, fade entirely.

Until one night.

You were reaching for something from the shelves in your bedroom when your elbow knocked a box off the shelf. It crashed to the floor with a hollow thud, its contents spilling out in an unceremonious heap. You froze, your pulse quickening as you recognized it—the box of belongings you’d had with you when they took you to the hospital. You’d refused to unpack it then, shoving it out of sight to avoid reopening wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal. The castle. The flames. Him.

But it had been a month. Surely, someone like you would have moved on by now.

“It’s just clothes,” you muttered to yourself, crouching to gather the scattered items. Your fingers brushed against the fabric of the dress you’d worn that night. It felt foreign and familiar all at once, its torn edges and scorched seams tangible remnants of that nightmare. As you bunched it up, you winced and drop the dress, a sharp sting prickling your fingertip.

“Ouch,” you muttered, seeing it draw blood. “What kind of dress would be this sha-"

It was a brooch.

No, not just any brooch. It was a brooch bearing his crest. Sunghoon’s crest.

The ruby gleamed faintly, tarnished by smoke and fire, but still unmistakable. Regal. Intricate. For a moment, you froze, your breath catching in your throat. It lay nestled in the folds of the dress, as if it had always been waiting for you to find it. Tentatively, your fingers closed around it, and as you pulled it free, the weight of it settled in your palm like a stone.

Your breath hitched as the dam burst. Memories flooded in—his voice, his touch, the way he’d looked at you in those final moments. The way he’d fought for you. The way he’d bled for you. The way he’d let you go.

The way he was gone.

Your chest tightened painfully as you stared at the brooch, its sharp edges pressing into your palm. This was all that remained. The only proof that he had existed, that any of it had been real.

The thought clawed at you, unrelenting, as a darker possibility crept into your mind. Vampires left no trace when they perished—no ashes, no remains. If he was gone, truly gone, you might never know. And that terrified you. In fact it terrified and pained you even more than if he was gone simply because he had walked away.

Your grip on the crest tightened, the sharp edges digging into your skin, grounding you in a pain that couldn’t compare to the ache tearing through your chest. You closed your eyes, clutching it to your heart, as though holding it closer might somehow bridge the impossible distance between you and him.

You closed your eyes, whispering his name into the stillness of the room, hoping—praying—that somehow, somewhere, he could hear you.

But the room offered no answer.

Only silence. Only absence.

And the ache—deep and unrelenting—remained.

(( just kidding 🤡 ))

Five years had passed.

Sunghoon never re-eappeared in your life.

You have by then made peace with the fact that perhaps he was never coming back. Perhaps he was gone. Forever.

Memories of him didn’t sting as sharply as they once did. The ache was still there, faint and distant, like a hole you cannot fill but it’s at least not a gaping hole anymore.

By then you could even convince yourself that perhaps, you have really gotten over him.

But then you’d be an outright liar.

Because you still wore his crest as a pendant, hidden beneath your shirt—a weight you carried, not just on your chest but deep within you. It was a quiet reminder, a silent wall you couldn’t breach.

And while memories of him no longer brought tears to your eyes, dreams of those nights—the chaos, the fire, the way his blood soaked through your hands—still jolted you awake, your face damp with tears you didn't remember shedding. They were the only testament to how deeply, how irreparably, the experience and memories had scarred you.

So you did what you did best: buried yourself in work. You numbed the ache, dulled the thoughts that haunted you, and clawed your way to higher pinnacles of success, reaching farther than you’d ever imagined. Even now, halfway across the world in Venice, Italy, you weren’t here for leisure—you were here for work.

It wasn’t until your final evening that Anton managed to drag you to the Carnevale di Venezia. “You need to live more,” he said, practically shoving you into the car. Begrudgingly, you agreed.

But the moment you stepped out of the car, you were greeted by men and women in elaborate period gowns and Venetian masks—and your stomach twisted.

The sight wasn’t just familiar—it was identical. Hauntingly so. To that of five years ago.

Sickening memories long buried clawed their way back to the surface—the blood, the shadows, the terror. It didn’t carry the ache it once had, but it brought something far worse: a creeping fear that wormed its way beneath your calm exterior, unraveling the composure you’d worked so hard to rebuild.

You swallowed hard, legs heavy, but Anton was too enamoured with the festivities to notice. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you through the crowd like an overexcited child.

When he stopped in front of an antique shop selling ornate masks and extravagant dresses, you could feel the air thinning. The shopkeeper offered you a delicate mask to try on, but as Anton reached toward your face to put one on, your body reacted faster than your mind did. Your hand shot up, gripping his wrist in an iron hold, your fingers digging into his skin, as if you were trying to fend him off. As if he was attacking you.

“y/n—” he froze, his voice laced with shock, his playful grin vanishing. His gaze flickered to your trembling hand, then back to your face, his concern deepening.

Your heart pounded, the masks and laughter around you blurring into dark suffocating shadows. For a moment, you weren’t in Venice. You were back there—in the castle, in the nightmare. You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to breathe, “sorry,” you stammered, dropping his wrist as though it burned you, “I—uh—the breakfast I had this morning—it’s not sitting right.”

Anton rubbed his wrist, his brows furrowed in confusion and concern. “y/n, are you okay?”

You forced a smile, though it felt like it might crack under the weight of your panic. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving him off. “Just... go ahead and try something on. I’ll stick with you—just not with all this.” You gestured vaguely at the masks, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

Anton sighed, his concern still visible. “Fine. Promise me you'll stop brooding and actually try to have some fun after?”

“What are you? Five?” you teased halfheartedly, shoving him playfully toward a nearby fitting room to change.

When he emerged from the fitting room, the sheer absurdity of his appearance—a frock too large, a mask so elaborate it drowned his features—pulled a reluctant laugh from you. For a fleeting moment, the tension in your chest eased and you let yourself be dragged along as Anton paraded through the festivities, snapping pictures and weaving through the crowd with unabashed joy.

But then, a procession swept through.

Figures in hooded cloaks and plague doctor masks glided past, their movements deliberate and haunting. The crowd murmured in awe, parting to let them pass, but you froze. The sight slammed into you like a blow, the memories rising unbidden—shadows in corridors, masks that promised death, the chase that had nearly taken everything from you.

“Anton,” you called, your voice tight, panic edging in. “Let’s move on—”

But he was gone.

“Anton?” Your voice cracked as you turned in place, your eyes darting through the sea of masked strangers. The crowd swelled, pressing against you, their laughter sharp and hollow, the music twisting into a dissonant wail. “Anton!” you shouted, louder now, desperation threading through your words.

No response.

The world spun, the faces around you blurring into grotesque shapes. Each mask seemed to leer at you, each figure a spectre of the past. Your breaths came shallow and rapid, the air thick, suffocating.

You stumbled, muttering apologies to strangers who didn’t respond, their masked faces a wall of indifference.

Then suddenly ahead, you caught sight of a figure perched on a raised platform, dressed in elaborate silks that shimmered in the flickering light. But it wasn’t the outfit that made your stomach drop—it was the mask.

A jester mask.

The painted grin stretched unnaturally wide, its hollow eyes glinting as though they could see through you. Bells dangled from the cap, their faint chime cutting through the distant hum of laughter. The figure moved with a deliberate slowness, their head tilting at an unnatural angle as they raised their hand. A thorny rose appeared in their grasp, the gesture painfully deliberate, as though meant just for you.

And then, with a flick of their wrist, the rose ignited, flames curling up the stem until it disintegrated into ash. The sharp smell of burning filled the air, suffocating and bitter, clawing at your senses. The fire, the laughter, the castle, Jaeyun—it all came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. You spun on your heel, desperate to escape, only to collide with someone else.

A man in a Bauta mask loomed over you, his breath audible through the thin slits. His towering frame bent closer, murmuring something low and indistinct. But you didn’t hear him. Couldn’t. The panic clawed at your chest, your vision tunneling as you shoved past him and broke into the crowd again.

The masks blurred together, grotesque and faceless, shadows from a nightmare that wouldn’t end. You moved blindly, each step unsteady, until—

You saw him.

An uncovered face, sharp and unmistakable in a sea of obscured ones.

The air seemed to leave your lungs. The noise of the carnival faded, the crowd melting into a haze of color and motion.

No mask. No cloak. Just him.

But it couldn’t be, you told yourself. It had to be a hallucination, your mind playing cruel tricks, dredging him up from memories you’d buried too deep. Then suddenly the crowd surged again, jostling you sideways. Your feet stumbled against the uneven pavement, your balance slipping.

You braced for the fall, but strong arms caught you.

“I’m sorry—” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to gather yourself. But then your gaze drop, and the words died in your throat. Right in your line of sight, pinned to the lapel of his suit, was a ruby crest, gleaming faintly under the dim, flickering light.

The very crest you wore as a pendant, tucked close to your heart like a secret you refused to let go of.

Your breath hitched, the roar of your pulse drowning out the world, the air turning electric as the ache in your chest returned with a vengeance. The carnival around you dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the man before you.

Your trembling eyes trailed upward, hesitation clawing at you with every inch. Fear mingled with hope, disbelief warred with yearning. And then you saw him.

Sunghoon.

It was really him. The sharp lines of his jaw, the darkness of his eyes, the way his presence seemed to draw the air from your lungs. He wasn’t wearing a mask, just like you. Amidst a sea of hidden faces, he stood barefaced, unapologetically himself.

Time seemed to still. Your heart clenched painfully as the flood of emotions you’d spent five years suppressing surged forward, overwhelming you.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

His gaze was still so intense and all-consuming, yet it no longer had the same sharpness as it did before. It no longer aimed to paralyze you or probe the depths of your mind. Instead, it carried a softness, an ache, as though trying to express all the things that words had failed to capture. And just like that, in the silence, in the circle of each other's arms, the years of separation unraveled in the space between you. Every unspoken word, every lingering ache, every memory you’d fought to bury rose to the surface, raw and undeniable, contained in that one look.

Your lips parted, but no sound came. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say. His name? An accusation? A plea?

Yet, as if avoidance and defensiveness were hardwired into you when it came to him, you started to pull yourself away—but, as always, he anticipated it and before you could even take a step back, his grip on you tightened.

“y/n, don’t,” he said, his grip strong yet his voice soft, almost pleading.

The sound of your name on his lips shattered something inside you. You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “You left,” you whispered, barely able to hear your own voice. “You never came back. I—” you stammered, “—I even thought you might have died.”

“I’m here now,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with something heavier—guilt, perhaps, or regret. “I never wanted to leave you y/n. But I had to.”

You stiffened, the heat rising in your chest overtaking the trembling in your hands. “You had to?” the bitterness in your voice surprised even you. “That’s what you’re going with? You had to vanish, leave me with nothing but questions—nothing but ghosts—and then reappear like you’ve done nothing wrong? like some noble martyr?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “You think it was easy for me? That leaving you behind was some choice I wanted to make?”

“Then why?” your voice cracked, the words sharper than you intended. “Why did you leave? You could have left a trace, a sign, let me know that—” you caught yourself, shaking your head as your hands balled into fists, “—no. You know what, it doesn't matter anymore. You should have continued to stay away. I was doing just fine. Finally doing just fine and yet here you are. Must have been fun staying in the shadows and trailing me around—seeing me lose my mind in the past 5 years then coming back just when I've finally gotten over you?!"

The accusation lingered, heavy in the space between you.

But even as you spoke, the weight of your own words pressed against you. Wasn’t this exactly what you wanted—to see him again? To demand an answer for the questions that had haunted you in the dead of night? And yet, now that he was here, standing in front of you, the anger felt hollow. A shield, yes, but one that barely held back the ache threatening to flood through the cracks.

You glanced at his face, searching for something—anything—that would reignite the rage you clung to so desperately. But his eyes, dark and steady, reflected none of the sharp arrogance you once associated with him. Instead, they were quiet. Soft. Aching.

Damn him. Damn him for looking at you like that, as if you meant something to him. As if he was hurting just as much as it had hurt you.

His grip on your wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “y/n I had no choice," he said softly, his voice steady despite the tremor beneath it. “The fire may have purged the deviants who deserved punishments but it sent shockwaves through my world. If I’d stayed, I would have brought danger to your door..." he sighed, "so I stayed away. And continued staying away especially after seeing you finally able to smile and laugh so freely over the recent years—as if you could finally breathe. I realised then that perhaps this was the sacrifice I needed to make, the debt I owed you—your peace."

His voice dropped, quieter now, as though the memory itself was unbearable. “But then tonight…” his hand flexed at his side, his grip on your wrist tightening briefly. “I saw the terror and dread suddenly return to your face—the very expressions I swore I’d never let you feel again." He paused, his jaw tightening as his gaze flickered to meet yours, “—and before I even knew what I was doing, it all broke. Every reason I had to stay away dissipated and all I wanted—all I want—is to protect you. To take it all away.”

He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking. His voice softened, steady but raw. “And when our eyes met. I thought there was something there—some sort of softness. For once, you didn't look at me with the usual armor in your eyes…" he faltered, his throat tightening, “—and that stripped away the last vestiges of my resolve; every lie I told myself. I realised then, I was never meant to be a saint nor be selfless. Not with you."

You froze, his vulnerability hitting you harder than it should have. But the simmering anger, the years of buried hurt, clawed its way back to the surface. “You’re always so good at that you know—vanishing, making me go nearly insane with guilt, and then coming back just when I thought I’d finally gotten over you.” You swallowed hard, the bitterness in your voice sharpening. “Exactly like 13 years ago, after I poisoned you.”

He stilled, his gaze flickering with something unreadable—regret, pain, guilt. But you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

"Back then, you should have come back, hunted me down and killed me—" you hissed, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "We'd have nipped it in the bud. Save ourselves. But instead, you dragged it on for so long. Perhaps this was your way of ruining me—from the inside out. The first time through guilt. The second time through loss."

He swallowed thickly, his mouth parting as though to sigh, but the sound never came. His jaw tensed, and when he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of a confession dragged from the depths of him. "y/n. I stayed away the first time because I was afraid."

His gaze flickered down for a moment, as if grounding himself, before rising to meet yours again. "After you poisoned me, I was afraid that if I saw you again..." he paused, his jaw tightening as though the words physically hurt to say. "—I wouldn’t want to kill you. That instead—like some pathetic moth drawn to the flame, or worse, like a stupid dog that doesn’t see the cruelty of its master—I’d come running to you. I’d embrace you."

The words hung between you, the implication of every words filling the space—a confession that tore through you even as it laid him bare. That was when you realised, perhaps, just like how you've avoided him to prevent anything from growing between you, Sunghoon's scathing and predatory words were perhaps his way of masking his devotion—a way to convince himself that it was all simply powerplay and primal desires. And you take that bait too literally as it all fitted with your own defense mechanism—the logic and rationality that you always employ to stop yourself from becoming vulnerable. But knowing the truth didn’t soften the ache. If anything, it sharpened it—because it meant you had been fighting the same battle, just on opposite sides. Both of you circling the same truth but never daring to claim it.

"Then maybe all this proves is that we're never meant to be. Like fire feeding fire, we burn each other alive, pretending it's warmth, until there's nothing left of us but smoke and ruin," you said, your voice hollow but steady, as if the words had been carved out of you.

“Then let me be the ruin,” he closed the remaining distance between you, his presence towering but his movements slow, as though afraid to startle you. "Let it burn me down to nothing. Let it hollow me out, scorch every part of me. But don’t ask me to extinguish it—not when it’s the only thing keeping me alive."

"You've lived for so long," you murmured, your voice heavy with exhaustion. "you, of all people, should know better that being self-destructive like this doesn't ensure happiness."

“It’s exactly because I’ve lived for so long,” he said, his voice low and weighted with a quiet sorrow, “that I know ruin is the only thing that stays, where nothing else lasts.”

The silence that followed was thick, not suffocating but heavy, like something unspoken had finally settled between you. When he drew closer, you didn't back away this time. When his hand cupped your cheek—warm, steady, and lingering—you didn’t pull away either. It wasn’t forgiveness, and it wasn’t surrender. But for now, it was enough for it conveyed more than words ever could.

Two years had passed since you were reunited with Sunghoon. Seven years since the fire. And fifteen years, in total, since you met him—the man who had brought chaos, danger, and frustration into your life than you thought possible.

If someone had told you then that he would become a near-permanent fixture in your life—and your apartment—you might have laughed. Or rolled your eyes.

Or poisoned him again.

“Fuck,” you nearly dropped your groceries as you stepped into your apartment to find him lounging on the couch like he owned the place, dressed in pajama bottoms and a black robe. Its opening, casually loose and just revealing enough to hint at his chest, made the sight far too leisurely for your liking. In fact, he looked so at ease, so disgustingly domestic, like he belonged—but the sight only made his presence feel more invasive. “Why are you always here? Go back to your penthouse. It’s way bigger.”

“But there’s no you,” he said, far too smoothly, suddenly reappearing beside you. Before you could protest, he took the groceries from your hands, unpacking them into the fridge and shelves with alarming familiarity.

Perhaps it wasn’t alarming anymore. He’d been doing this for months—showing up whenever he had a moment to spare from whatever duties occupied a vampire’s time. He even bought the unit next to yours, offering excuses to drop by that were as ridiculous as they were transparent: needing eggs, faulty lighting, lost keys. All nonsense, of course, since he didn’t need nourishment, had no reason to fear the dark and can teleport just fine if he wanted to.

“Right, what’s your excuse tonight?” you asked, flopping onto the couch.

“The a/c is broken,” he replied smoothly.

“You used that excuse two weeks ago Sunghoon.”

“Did I?” he mused, unbothered. “Well, this time it’s the sprinklers. Got set off when I was trying to sear my steak. Now the place is flooded. Disgusting, really.”

You scoffed. “Sunghoon, cut the crap. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I just want to be with you,” he quipped with a shrug. “You always rejected my offer to ask you to move in with me—penthouse, townhouse, heck even the manor near that hiking spot you like—so here I am. Playing househusband. Or maid, depending on the day.”

“Right,” you said, raising a brow, “you definitely need to stop lounging around in that robe. It’s too casual. People might think you’re my husband or something.”

He grinned, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in that infuriating way. “That’s the goal.”

“You know normal humans and vampires can’t co-exist in that way right?”

“We’re anything but normal y/n,” he replied smoothly, making his way to the living room and plopping down to your left. His elbow propped lazily on the headrest, his posture screaming nonchalance, as if daring you to challenge him. “We can do whatever we please. Or however you please.”

You furrowed your brows, annoyed. If his teasing back then had been a game of one-upmanship—an endless, borderline competitive battle of wits—now it had shifted into something more dangerous. Flirtatious, deliberate, and entirely designed to fluster you. A different ball game—one you weren’t used to playing.

Leaning back, you crossed your arms. “Well, bad news. It’s time for me to do normal stuff and settle down, and the guy earlier—”

“Right, the one you had a date with—“ he cut in, “—or rather the one you were forced to meet up with—“

“—is the best candidate so far,” you continued, rolling your eyes at his interruption. You were used to it by now—used to him knowing too much about your life, like an ever-present fly on the wall, “—he is mature, understanding, and not clingy.”

“Sounds exactly like me but a pale imitiation because come on, I am way good looking in a way no human can replicate and most importantly,” his hand found your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His voice dropped, low and steady. “Only I understand you and your complexity y/n and only you understand mine. We are made for each other—we’re too dysfunctional for others, but perfect for each other. No one else could survive us.”

“Then what if one day I feel so suffocated and poison you again?” you shot back.

“I’ll let you,” he said quietly, his lips curving in a subtle, almost resigned way as his eyes bore into yours. This could have been lighthearted and playful but those voice and those gaze were anything but. “I've told you this before: I’ll let you ruin me in the end as long as you’ll have me.”

“Don’t you ever feel that you’ve given too much and I’ve not given enough—" you retorted. It wasn’t meant to hurt him. You just wanted to come clean with him.

“Oh, I know that very much. Better than anyone in fact—” he murmured, his fingers brushing your collar before slipping beneath it, catching the chain that lay hidden against your skin. “And this—” he lifted it gently, his thumb grazing the crest you wore as a pendant with a reverence that only he could feel, “—you wearing this—it says more than you ever could.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” you muttered, smacking his hand off. “Your crest has been very useful—it keeps other biters at bay.”

Then suddenly, his hand moved before you could react, sliding to the curve of your right waist with a deliberate slowness that sent a shiver racing up your spine. His fingers pressed lightly into your side, tracing the curve of your body as though memorizing the path. The motion was unhurried, grounding you in place while leaving no question of his intent. Then, he shifted closer, bracing one knee on the cushion beside you before the other followed suit in one fluid motion. The couch dipped under his weight, trapping you effortlessly. His hand found the headrest behind you, his presence closing in until all you could feel was him—the heat radiating from his body, the cadence of his breath, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long before trailing upward along your side.

“Then use me like you use the crest—” he murmured, his voice dipping to something quieter, almost reverent. His lips hovered inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours as his hand trailed up the curve of your spine, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, “—you know I’m completely at your mercy.”

“For someone who should be wise beyond his years, you don’t seem to learn your lesson,” you managed to say back, raising a hand to his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him.

The tension thickened, swallowing the space entirely as his right hand slid up the nape of your neck, warm and deliberate, sending a sharp jolt through your senses. Without warning, he tilted your head back sharply, making you look up at him in a strained way as he towered over you, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made the air around you feel heavier. "I never learn my lesson when it comes to you," he murmured as his face dipped closer. His voice was steady almost reverent—but the weight of control behind it was unmistakable.

His eyes moved slowly, tracing a path from your eyes to your lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply, the motion betraying the thin thread of restraint he clung to. It was as though swallowing was the only thing keeping him tethered, holding back something far more dangerous than words. When his gaze returned to yours, it was darker, sharper, and filled with a hunger barely leashed, “—and I don’t want to. Ever.”

His words hung in the air for only a moment before his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was anything but gentle—it was a brutal collision of yearning, years of pent-up emotions, frustration, and something far darker that had simmered between you for far too long. The force of his kiss drove you backward, your head pressing into the unyielding headrest as he claimed your lips. The angle left you no choice but to tilt your head farther in a strained way, a soft gasp escaping you—one he seized without hesitation, deepening the kiss, consuming you entirely.

He tasted of power and desire, a heady combination that made your head spin. Then, with a sharp, sudden motion, he pulled you towards him with startling strength, pressing your bodies together with a searing intensity—making you feel every inch of him: the hard, unyielding planes of his chest, the muscular ridges of his abdomen, even the tension in his body, the coiled power, the barely leashed restraint. His hand, splayed over your back, was like a steel band around your waist, forcing your body to arch unnaturally backwards as his kiss pursued you, driving you farther back, lips growing more demanding and insistent by the second.

Your body gradually grew pliant under his domineering, possessive, hold–overwhelmed by the ferocity and sheer possessiveness of his every kiss and touch. There was literally no room to think, no space to resist—not that you wanted to. He overwhelmed every sense, each touch unraveling the walls you’d so carefully built. You told yourself it was only physical, that the fire consuming you was nothing but desire. But deep down, you knew better. You weren’t just losing control—you were giving it to him.

Your hands flew to his biceps, clinging for balance, your fingers digging into his tense muscles for support, feeling the power and strength that lay beneath. His muscles flexed under your touch, a silent warning of the raw, untamed masculinity that simmered just below his skin. As you struggled to draw in air, your lips parted unwittingly, and Sunghoon was quick to take advantage. Before you could even gasp for breath, his thumb pressed down on your chin, forcing your lips apart, his tongue already breaching past to plunder your mouth with a fierce and primal intensity that left you breathless.

Emboldened, Sunghoon's hand slithered up your back like a serpent claiming its prey, his large hand nearly covering the entire width of your back. Then with a fluid motion, without breaking the kiss at all, he lifted you with surprising ease, his arm muscles flexing in a display of raw power and dominance, as he manoeuvered you sideways before forcefully pushing you down onto the cushions with controlled strength—enough to knock the air out of your lungs but not enough to suffocate. Yet.

The couch groaned under the weight of your entangled bodies, sinking further as Sunghoon hovered over you, his powerful legs bracketing your hips, his muscular frame dwarfing yours. He pushed you deeper into the cushions, his body a solid, warm weight pressing you down, his lips never breaking contact with yours, his kiss relentless. He angled your head to his liking, his free hand exploring your body with a gentle dominance, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, down to the swell of your hips, a teasing caress that made your heart race. It was as if he was trying to etch every curve into memory.

Finally he pulled back, but only so slightly to grant you reprieve from his lips, for his weight still anchored him firmly against you as he straddled your hips, creating a tantalizing gap between your bodies. His gaze had completely shifted then—smouldering in a way that authoritatively pinned you in place without having to physically restrain you. "This is your chance," he said, his voice gravelly with restrained desire, as he tore the robe from his shoulders with an impatient motion, letting it fall in a forgotten heap on the floor. Bare from the waist up, his muscular frame seemed even more commanding, each ridge of muscle sharp and unyielding without the confines of clothing.

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen his bare torso, but tonight, his physique felt too imposing—as if every ridge of muscle was sculpted exactly to intimidate and conquer. The air around him seemed to hum with power while the intensity of his gaze stole words right from your throat. He continued, "you can resist, push me away, or even slap me, but once I begin, I won't be able to stop".

You swallowed thickly, the weight of his piercing gaze pressing down on you, making you feel small beneath him. It wasn’t just his physical presence—towering, commanding—that made your breath hitch. It was the intensity in his eyes, the way they seemed to strip you bare, leaving no room for pretense or armor. You hated that he could do this to you, hated more that you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t lie to yourself: he was indeed intimidating at the moment. But was it fear that made your pulse race, or something darker, something you weren’t ready to name?

You could push him away, the words lingered in your mind like an invitation. But the truth was, you’d had a thousand chances to stop him before things went too far. And yet, here you were, under him. Because as much as you hated his power over you, you had already decided to let it in.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, the loose cardigan slipping from your shoulders, exposing your bare skin to his ravenous gaze. Sunghoon’s eyes darkened like a brewing storm, his chest rising and falling in sync with your own ragged breaths. Your lips still tingled from the searing kiss, the memory of his touch a constant reminder that you hadn’t stopped him. That you hadn’t wanted to.

"I wouldn’t have let you get this far if I wasn’t sure, Sungh—" you panted out, but before you could finish, he surged forward, recapturing your lips with a fierce and almost punishing force. The kiss was a tempest, a chaotic collision of passion and need, pulling you under and leaving you breathless, weightless, and utterly undone.

As his mouth consumed yours, his hands moved with purpose and urgency, stripping away your cardigan with a deft touch. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, making you acutely aware of every inch of him. His other hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curvature of your spine with a deliberate languor that made your breath hitch. Your body arched into his touch, your restraint crumbling under the weight of his passion. He responded by pressing you deeper into the plush couch, his body a heavy, welcome weight, pinning you beneath him, a captive to his desire.

The soft cushions molded to your form, offering a sensual contrast to the hard planes of his chest against your soft skin. "Sunghoon—" you gasped, struggling for air and begging him to slow down, but he showed no mercy. Instead, his lips descended upon yours with even greater ferocity, turning the kiss hungrier, messier and wetter as his mouth and tongue move with a frenzied passion that bordered on brutal, as if he was trying to consume you whole and leave nothing but ashes in his wake—the ferocity of which was mirrored by the rhythm of his hips as he ground against you, a tantalizing preview of what was to come.

You knew you were treading uncharted territories—felt it in the way his hands gripped you, relentless and commanding with a possessiveness that bordered on primal—every movement daring you to stop him and knowing you wouldn’t. But then again, this had always been the dynamic between you two: a dance on the knife’s edge—a battle masquerading as a game, where neither truly won. Every step only pulled you deeper into the other's orbit, not for the comfort peace or safety, but for the chaos only the other could create.

But somewhere along the way, the chaos had shifted. It was no longer about fighting against each other, about destruction for the sake of it. Instead, it had become something far more dangerous: a harmony within the chaos.

You had learned to move in sync, not because you sought peace, but because you understood each other too well. The storm hadn’t disappeared—it never would—but now, you weathered it together. No one else could bear the weight of your detachment—the walls you built, the silence you carried—but him. And no one else could bear his chaos—the storm within him, the fire that never died—the way you did.

You weren’t drawn to each other just for the fire, but because you were each other’s constant. You were his unshakable anchor: the force that rooted him in a reality he couldn’t manipulate, teaching him that respect—not domination—was the foundation of something enduring and real. And he was your constant storm: a chaotic force that blows through your carefully constructed walls, showing you that stability isn't always the answer. You let him destabilize your certainty; he lets you unravel his control.

You two were a mess and yet you two never sought to change nor fix the other. Because within one another was the only place where everything made sense, even as the world burned around you. It wasn’t peace, nor was it safety—but it was home. And it was inevitable, as it always had been.

A/N: DONE. DUSTED. GONE. PHEW. Now I can pack peacefully for my flight tomorrow. This is farthest and the most committed I've ever been in writing so please, show me some appreciation by leaving feedback. This is possibly my last writing after all. Also! just wanted to shed some light into the ending: I've created two very complex, messy as hell, multi-layered, characters who went through hell and back with a knife ((or fangs)) on each other's throat for most of the time, so you can’t expect a Hallmark-esque ending with elopement, three kids, and a cozy life baking sourdough in a quaint cottage deep in the woods. After everything they’ve been through—betrayals, obsession, bloodshed, and vulnerability—it would feel unrealistic to wrap their relationship in a neat bow. There’s too much baggage to simply ignore, and I am honoring those journey, their personality and their arcs by opting for such an ending in the epilogue. One that is unapologetically and messily theirs.

217 notes View Post

silcry

1 year ago

🤍give up heaven: sunghoon

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 10.6k

synopsis: when you run into your best friend's ex-boyfriend at your favorite coffee shop thinking it was just a coincidence until seeing him became a daily thing. You can't get him out of your head and start to feel guilty at the very thought of him and things take a turn when he starts making advances towards you.

genre: hockey player!hoon with small mentions of figure skater!hoon, ex-bestfriend bf!hoon, hoon's ex-girlfriend best friend, friends to lovers, slight smut.

warnings: swearing, implied sex, make-out session, fingering, jerking off, verbal fight between reader, the ex, and sunghoon, MINORS DNI. lmk if i've missed anything!

You tried to avert your eyes when you saw him walk into the coffee shop. Pulling the scarf around your neck up higher and turning your face in the opposite direction.

His voice echoed throughout the small shop, ordering his regular drink. Why do you still remember how he liked his coffee?

You slowly glanced up, his back was facing towards you, his hand reaching for his wallet from the back pocket of his blue jeans.

After paying, he stepped back from the counter. You quickly turned your head away again, praying he didn’t see you or would even notice you.

“Y/N?”

Well, shit.

There's no point in hiding now. You slowly lifted your head, seeing the soft smile on his face as he slightly leaned to the side to get a look at your face, “It really is you.”

You awkwardly smile, “Yes, it’s me.”

Get your shit together, Y/N, come on.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short when his name was called, “Sunghoon! Your iced coffee is ready!”

“Be right back,” his knuckles tapped on the table, his smile growing.

You carefully watched as he got his coffee and made his way back to your table, pulling the chair across from you out and seating himself.

“How have you been?” he asked excitedly, his long fingers wrapping around his coffee, taking a small sip, “It’s been what? A year?”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around your warm coffee, “I see you still drink iced coffee even during the winter, some things never change huh?”

Sunghoon softly chuckled, his smile just growing brighter and wider, his natural fangs peeking from his lips, “Everyone knows iced coffee is superior,” he leaned his elbows onto the table, “Your hair is longer, it looks good. You look good.”

You smiled, “Thank you, you look really good as well, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon gave you a soft smirk and flexed his arms, “Why thank you! Been working out a lot lately.”

You rolled your eyes and took another sip of your coffee, “You really haven’t changed.”

His laugh was enough to make you laugh as well, the corners of your lips curving upwards no matter how hard you tried to push it down.

It felt like old times.

Speaking about old times…

His smile finally faded, the happy expression he once had was also gone, his face relaxing into a kinda of sad softness.

His voice trembled, “How is uhh…how is she?” his eyes darted to the corner of the table.

Oh…he’s still in love with her.

Your lips thinned into a line, trying to figure out what information was appropriate to give out.

“She’s really good.” it wasn’t a total lie.

Sunghoon nodded, the corner of his lips barely curling, “That’s… um…that’s good then. I’m glad she’s doing well.”

It broke your heart that he couldn’t even say your best friend's name. It must still hurt even after a year.

Sunghoon dated your best friend for almost three years. You remember when the two of you first met him at your college's hockey game.

He bumped into the two of you, spilling his soda all down your best friend's outfit. Oh, man was she pissed. It didn’t take Sunghoon long to convince her to let him make it up to her.

After that, they were inseparable.

Sunghoon was a part of the hockey team, but due to a leg injury, he had to sit out until he was completely healed. But that didn’t stop him from attending every hockey game to support his teammates. He even dragged your best friend along with him. Which eventually led you to tag along as well.

The three of you became that trio that was inseparable. A package deal. If you saw one of us, the other two were sure to be right behind.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t. Their relationship got toxic. They fought more than normally and on hangout days, either your best friend was missing, or Sunghoon was missing. Nothing felt right and the air between your friend group grew thick. Hard to breathe.

Sunghoon eventually stopped talking to you, and then they broke up. Your best friend stopped hanging around you and slowly stopped speaking to you as well. You figured it was due to the heartbreak, that she just needed her space. You didn’t think it would lead to your friendship slowly becoming nonexistent.

You two weren’t exactly best friends anymore, but after she healed from the breakup, she came back around. It just wasn’t the same as before Sunghoon came into the picture.

You two still barely talk, and barely see each other, but still kept that contact and hung out when you could.

You never understood why she pushed you away, but the heart does crazy things when it’s hurting.

And you haven’t seen Sunghoon since a couple of months before the breakup, until today. A little over a year later.

“Well,” Sunghoon’s voice brought you out of your deep thoughts, “I have to get going, need to catch practice.”

Your eyebrows raised, “You’re playing still?”

Sunghoon’s doctor finally cleared him to get back on the ice after almost a year of being off it, but due to the team setup they had at that time, he wasn’t able to fully rejoin the team again until around the time of the breakup. He was able to practice and attend the games as a sub if needed, but it was enough for him to keep his mind busy for a little bit.

You’ve secretly kept up with the scores of the hockey team, knowing Sunghoon was back on the team officially. But after a while you quit. Clearing Sunghoon from your life completely.

Sunghoon nodded, “Hell yeah I’m still playing, who do you think I am?” he teased, standing up from the table, “But, I am actually not going to hockey practice.”

The surprise must have shown on your face because Sunghoon was giggling like a child at your confusion, “I joined an ice skating team as a figure skater.”

You sat up straighter in your chair, “Since when?!”

“Since…well.” He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, it was all you needed to know.

Being a sub on the hockey team eventually wasn’t enough for Sunghoon to keep his brain busy after the breakup. Until he was officially able to play again, he needed another distraction. Come to find out he loved figure skating as much as hockey, deciding even after being fully back on the hockey team, he kept up with figure skating as well.

You slowly nodded, “I am really glad you’re doing well for yourself, Sunghoon.”

He softly nodded back, “Thank you, Y/N. I have to get going, the ice is calling my name.”

You waved at him as he walked to the entrance, him turning back around as his back touched the doors, “It was nice seeing you!”

You agreed.

—

Your best friend sighed as another customer walked into the smoothie shop, holding up her index finger towards you as she walked away and up to the register, taking the customer's order.

You leaned against the counter, moving the seat back and forth with your hips like a child.

“Okay,” she said, returning to you after the customer's smoothie was made, “What were you telling me?”

“Just that the materials you missed in bio today weren't too hard. I took extra notes for you,” you pulled into your backpack taking out the pretty iced blue folder, “Here they are!” you pulled out the stack of notes you made for her, her taking them and holding them to her chest.

“Thank you SO MUCH YN!!!” she placed the papers in a drawer under the counter, “I could kiss you right now. What would I do without you?”

Probably survive perfectly fine since you had no problem cutting me off after you and Sunghoon broke up.

You shrugged with a smile, “Fail bio.”

She laughed and nodded, “Yeah, probably. But I have you to help keep me in the loop!”

You honestly hated how the two of you could go DAYS sometimes even WEEKS without talking or seeing each other yet she has no problem acting as if nothing ever happened.

But she was all you had, so you played along with her.

You dropped your backpack onto the floor, wondering if telling her the other thing was right or wrong.

You decided to anyway.

“I also saw Sunghoon the other day.”

Her movements slowed and her smile faded, “Is that so?”

You nodded, “We talked for a couple of minutes, but he had to go practice, so it was a short moment.”

You could see the gears were turning in her brain, “Practice? Guess he was able to get back on the team after all. That’s good at least.”

“He actually is figure skating now too, that’s where he was headed.”

Your best friend’s eyes widened, “Wow, I did not see that one coming.”

You agreed, “It was definitely not something I’d expected Park Sunghoon to do, but I guess it kinda suits him.”

Your friend nodded, seeing how deep in thought she was.

You wanted to ask her to speak her mind, but unfortunately, the two of you weren’t that close anymore.

A couple more customers walked in, sending her back away from you.

You stood from the seat, grabbing your things, giving her a smile and wave as you walked out. You only came to give her the notes she missed anyway.

Usually, when she skips out of class she gets the notes from one of the boys she’s secretly messing around with. But every blue moon she asks you.

You guessed it was the only way to keep in contact with you in some way.

—

You quickly stepped into the coffee shop, brushing off the slight snow from your hair, ready to get a sip of your favorite coffee.

The barista noticed you, giving you his famous thumbs-up, “Already on it YN!”

You gave him a thumbs-up back. You were so happy you discovered this place, it became one of your comfort places to be. It’s quiet enough to do homework or read, the coffee is amazing and all the baristas know you and your order. What isn’t there to love?

“Fancy seeing you here again,” you whipped around, seeing Sunghoon sitting in your usual spot, a book in his hands and his iced coffee half empty on the table.

Your brain spasmed, what was he doing here again?

You just nodded, “You’re in my spot.”

Sunghoon shrugged, “I can move?”

Well shit, now you feel bad.

You shook your head, “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind sharing.”

Sunghoon smiled, eyes flickering back down to his book.

The barista called your name, turning your attention back to him, “Thank you, Taehyun.”

His sharky smile warms your heart, “Always,” his eyes darted over to Sunghoon then back to you, “Do you know him?”

You sighed, “Yes, he’s an old friend.”

Taehyun nodded, his tongue sliding into his cheek, “He’s been here every day since the last time you were here.”

You froze, narrowing your eyes, “Honestly?”

Taehyun nodded again, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that he wasn’t some creep.”

You smiled softly at him, “No need to worry. He’s harmless.”

Taehyun gave you a half smile, then walked off to finish working.

You sat down in front of Sunghoon, his eyes not leaving the page of his book.

You cleared your throat, taking a sip of your coffee.

Sunghoon glanced up for a second at your throat clearing, “Yes?”

You cupped your hands around your coffee, “What?”

Sunghoon sighed and closed his book, setting it on the table, “You only clear your throat like that when you have something to say.”

Damn, does he remember the small details of you?

“You remember that?”

Sunghoon chuckled, picking up his iced coffee, “YN, I’ve known you for almost, what? five years? You think I’d just forget everything?”

Well, no…just didn’t think you’d care enough to remember. you didn’t date me after all.

All you could do was shrug, “My barista told me you’ve been here every day,”

Sunghoon raised a brow as he sipped on his coffee, finishing it off, “Your barista?”

“Not like that!” you snapped quietly, wishing you could jump over the table and tackle him, “I’m a regular here, Taehyun just happens to be the barista who always takes care of me.”

Sunghoon mouthed out a “wow” and leaned back into the seat, “First name bases too?”

“Sunghoon,” his name falling off your lips felt foreign, mostly since you were speaking to him, “Why are you here every day?”

He thinned out his lips into a line, eyes looking down at his Converse, “Been looking for a good coffee shop to regular, and this one surprised me when I first came in here. You just so happened to be here the day I decided to try it.”

That sounds…completely true. This coffee shop is incredible. You don’t blame him for wanting to become a regular. It was all a coincidence.

You sipped down your coffee, feeling the stare of his eyes, “Yes?”

“So back to Taehyun being your barista,”

You laughed, kicking your leg into his shin, “Stop!”

Sunghoon’s fangs slipped out as he smiled.

—

Sunghoon’s appearance in the coffee shop became more regular, just like he said.

Taehyun knew his order by heart, just like yours, and would always have it ready the moment he saw Sunghoon walk in.

You had to admit, it felt good having him back in your life. It felt like old times when you’d hang out when your best friend was too busy working. You three all used to be so close.

Yet you didn’t have the heart to tell her you were even hanging out with Sunghoon again. It technically wasn’t even hanging out, you two just happened to sit, talk, and drink coffee together at your favorite coffee shop.

Another week has flown by with Sunghoon making his appearance at the shop.

You laughed together over a book you both read, Sunghoon feeling Taehyun’s eyes on you.

You stood up, “I’m heading to the bathroom,”

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes darting to Taehyun, watching him as he watched you walk to the bathroom. A small sigh escaped Taehyun’s lips.

Taehyun then made eye contact with him, and the look he was giving Sunghoon made him clench his fists.

Your return to the table had Sunghoon relaxing, and Taehyun returning to work.

Sunghoon couldn’t take his eyes off you. He felt so at home in your presence. His mind telling him to tell you the truth, that you deserved to know. But the moment you locked eyes with him and the corners of your lips curled into that precious smile, he couldn’t do it.

“What’s up?” you asked, “You’re deep in thought?”

“Ahh…” Sunghoon tried to collect his thoughts, then quickly smiled, settling on the topic change, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” you thought about it, “I just have class, why?”

“Come to my hockey practice tomorrow night.”

That invite took you by surprise, “Huh?”

Sunghoon smiled even more, leaning forward on the table, “Come watch my practice tomorrow. Please?”

You tried to find an excuse to get out of it, but nothing came to mind. How could you just show up to your best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s hockey practice?

“The guys would love to see you, I bet.” Sunghoon mentioning his friends only hit you in the heart harder, “Come on, YN, just like old times.”

Without a second thought, you agreed. Not knowing exactly why, but feeling as if it would be okay. It was just hockey practice.

He jumped up from the table, “I have to get to figure skating practice, is your phone number still the same?”

You nodded, heart beating faster at hearing he still had your phone number.

With a jump away from the table and a small skip, he said, “I’ll text you the details!”

—

Sunghoon twirled his hockey stick in hand, eyes darting to each entrance of the stadium.

Heeseung skated past, quickly stopping in front of him, eyes also following each entrance, “Brother, what are you looking at?”

Sunghoon snaps his attention at Heeseung, his mouth open to speak, but no words coming out.

“He’s waiting for YN,” Jay says as he also skates past, skating a circle around them.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “Dude.”

Jay smirked, “Should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

“Clearly, that’s the last time I tell you anything,” Sunghoon said, sliding his helmet over his head.

Heeseung raised a brow, “Wait you’re speaking to YN again?”

Sunghoon just nodded, “Yeah. We umm, ran into each other at a coffee shop.”

“Yeah, “ran into each other”, we’ll call it that.” Jay teased, leaning forward on his hockey stick.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kick your stick from you and laugh when you hit the ice,” Sunghoon said with a snarky smile.

“Woah now!” Jay said, holding his hand up, “You’re a figure skater now, can’t be talking like that anymore.”

Sunghoon skated forward, Jay also scooted backward sticking his tongue out.

Heeseung seemed to be the only one who was concerned, “How did the three of you make up?”

Sunghoon awkwardly chuckled, “You mean the two of us…”

Heeseung looked at his friend confused, “You and—“

“No,” Sunghoon quickly shook his head, “We aren’t talking.”

Heeseung just nodded, finally putting the pieces together, “Sorry for assuming that you rekindled with both of them.”

Sunghoon swung his hockey stick around again, “Just YN. And from what I’ve noticed, the two of them aren’t really friends anymore.”

It didn’t take long for Sunghoon to figure it out. The way it used to be, his ex would always talk about you, and you would always talk about his ex. The two of you were inseparable. A package deal. With one you got the other. And the fact that you haven’t once brought her up over the last week that he’s started talking to you again, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she also pushed you away after the breakup.

Heeseung just nodded, “Do you blame them?” Sunghoon just looked at him, not knowing what to say, “YN doesn’t know, does she?”

Sunghoon shook his head, “No, and she won’t.”

“Hoon-“

“I am not ready to tell her,” Sunghoon snapped, “I finally got one of my closest friends back, I don’t want to cross that bridge.”

Heeseung sighed and nodded, “Okay man, just don’t get butt hurt when it backfires at you.”

Sunghoon knew this secret could backfire on him, he wasn’t stupid. But it was worth the risk.

“I’m going to see if she texted me,” he said, “Just in case she said he couldn’t make it.”

Heeseung watched as Sunghoon skated off towards his gym bag.

Dropping his gloves to the ice and carefully stepping off the ice, he sat down on the bench, opened his gym bag, and pulled out his phone, quickly finding your messages and seeing you’ve read his last text.

Sunghoon felt stupid getting his hopes up. What did he think inviting you would do?

I just wanted her back in my life again.

He tossed his phone back in the bag and stepped back onto the ice, pulling his gloves back onto his hands.

I’m so fucking pathetic.

Sunghoon adjusted his gloves, now waiting for practice to start.

Jay whistled at him, causing a glare to shoot from his eyes.

Jay tilted his head up, “Look.”

Sunghoon turned back around, seeing you walking in, your arms wrapped tightly around you.

He couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face, immediately skating in your direction.

“You made it!” he said, sliding his helmet from his head.

You smiled back, nodding, “Sorry that I am a bit late, my class got out later.”

You walked up to the wall Sunghoon was now leaning against, his helmet resting on top of it.

“You showed up, and that’s all that matters,” Sunghoon couldn’t hide how happy it made him that you were here right now.

You nodded again, smiling wide back at him, “It’s cold as balls in here though!”

Sunghoon pointed over to his gym bag, “I have my hockey varsity jacket in my bag, wear it if you get too cold.”

“I am definitely going to wear it,” you shivered, “I forgot how cold it gets in here.”

The memory of the last time he saw you replayed in his mind, it was during a hockey game. His team was a couple of points away from winning. Sunghoon and his ex were too busy fighting off on the side of the bleachers, her stomping away not wanting to finish the conversation. His eyes wandered over to you, the sad look you gave him broke his heart even more. Your heart was also breaking due to watching your closest friends tear each other apart. All Sunghoon could do was shove his hands into his hoodie pocket and walk out of the stadium.

He watched as you walked over to his things, your hands immediately reaching for the jacket and sliding it onto your body.

Oh fuck I am a goner.

Sunghoon loved the way you looked in his jacket. The way it loosely hangs against your body. How cute it made you look. His heart dropped onto the ice.

Your body started warming up a bit more, sliding your hands into his jacket pockets. Your eyes traced the other players on the ice. Jay and Heeseung waving at you. You waved back. Gosh, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw either of them.

You’ve seen them out and about around the college, but not so personally like this. It’s been way too long.

Sunghoon skated back over to his friends and teammates.

“It’s weird seeing her again,” Jay said, watching you sit down, eyes wandering around the stadium, “Mostly seeing her without her twin at her hip. She looks really good though,”

Jay was lucky Sunghoon was in a better mood than earlier, or else he’d be wiping the ice with Jay’s face, “Can we not talk about my ex, please, and she does look good. Eyes off.”

Jay wanted to make a smart remark, but with a quick look at Sunghoon and then you, he decided to leave the teasing off the ice, giving him a nod, “Yeah, sorry man.”

Their coach finally started practice.

It went by in a flash. You waited outside the stadium for Sunghoon, his jacket still wrapped around your body.

“Well, what did you think of our practice?” Sunghoon said, sneaking up on you, and giving you a little jolt.

“It was very interesting, you played well.”

Sunghoon walked closer to you, his hands reaching up to fix the collar of his jacket, his cold fingers brushing against your skin, “My jacket looks really good on you.”

Your heart sank.

Is he…flirting???

“Oh, shoot!” you tried to play it off as if you forgot, wanting to find an excuse for the blush on your face to go away after his comment, reaching to take the jacket off, “Here, I forgot I was still wearing it.”

Sunghoon grabbed your hands and shoved them back at your side, “YN, keep it.”

“But—“

Sunghoon interrupted, “It’s okay! I promise! Just keep it for now, okay? I have another jacket I can wear.”

You nodded, feeling your body getting hot from his hands still touching yours.

Why are you getting so bothered??? You’ve known him for years. Why is every little thing he’s doing affecting you???

“Anyways,” he said, finally letting go of your hands, “We have a game this weekend, you’ll come right?”

You wouldn’t mind going, it could be an excuse to get you out of your apartment for once and not just sit at the coffee shop either.

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

Sunghoon smiled, his eyes darting to the ground to try and hide just how big he was smiling, “I’ll save you a ticket.”

—

You walked into the shop, giving Taehyun a smile and wave. Giving you the normal thumbs up.

You dropped your backpack to the floor at your normal table and slumped down into the seat with a sigh.

“Rough day?” Sunghoon asked, his yellow highlighter moving across his textbook.

You nodded, “I forgot to set my alarms last night, so I woke up late and got to class late. On top of that I had to take double the notes because…” you stopped yourself, not wanting to bring your best friend's name into the mix.

Sunghoon stopped highlighting, he didn’t even have to hear her name to know what you were going to say, his eyes slowly rising to meet yours, “You’re still taking notes for her?”

You just shrugged, “Maybe…”

“YN,” he dropped his highlighter into the textbook, “You need to stop doing that.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Mostly because you knew he was right. She was just using you at this point.

Taehyun interrupted your thoughts by setting your coffee down in front of you, “Tae! I could have gotten it from you.”

His cute sharky smile came out, “Don’t worry about it, I don’t ever get to bring the coffee to you. Plus I needed to get away from behind the counter.”

You smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

Taehyun rested his hand on your shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze, “It’s no problem at all, YN.”

Sunghoon clenched his fists under the table, eyes burning holes into his hand that was touching you.

As Taehyun walked away, he locked eyes with Sunghoon as if to say “Your move now, buddy.”

Oh, I’ll play your game, Taehyun.

“He totally has a crush on you.” Sunghoon spat out.

You softly giggled, “Who? Tae? No,” you giggled again, taking a sip of your coffee, “He’s just a good friend.”

Sunghoon rubbed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes darting back to Taehyun who was now back behind the counter, “I can see it in the way he looks at you.”

You rolled your eyes. He sounds jealous.

You glanced up at him, seeing how he kept his eyes on Taehyun.

Oh, he’s…actually jealous??? No. It couldn’t be. He’s still in love with his ex.

You shook the thoughts from your head, deciding to change the subject, “Are you ready for the game tomorrow?”

Sunghoon’s eyes made their way back to you, his face relaxing and a small smile formed, “Yes, you’re still coming…right?”

You nodded, “I wouldn’t miss it,” you took another sip of your coffee, “Wasn’t able to see you play back then, so I’m excited to see you play now.”

Hearing you say that warmed his heart. Knowing you’ll be in the crowd cheering for him and only him. He had to make sure he was on his ‘a game’ tomorrow.

“Make sure to wear my jacket tomorrow,” Sunghoon gave you a wink, picking his highlighter back up and continuing where he left off.

You giggled, “Why? What will your jacket do? Bring good luck?”

Sunghoon chuckled, stretching the highlighter across the words on the textbook, “It has an S.H. and my last name on the back,” he glanced back up at you, “And you know, yeah, you wearing my jacket will bring good luck. You’ll be my good luck charm.”

Sunghoon took notice of the slight blush on your cheeks, his smile growing more as he looked back to his textbook.

God, she’s so cute.

You tried to slow your heart rate. Why is he making you feel like this?

“It’s getting kinda late,” Sunghoon’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, “Are you hungry? Want to grab a bite to eat? Then I can walk you to your apartment?”

You nodded.

You weren’t sure what these butterflies in your stomach meant, but it made you feel guilty for even having them.

—

It was game day and your nerves were all tied together in a knot.

You took one last look at your outfit in your mirror, fingers twisting in the belt loops of your ripped skinny jeans, pulling them up further above your hips.

Your college’s hockey team t-shirt had a small hole at the bottom of the shirt, which was to be expected. This was an old shirt and you haven’t worn it since the last game you attended…the night Sunghoon pushed you out of his life.

Your black high-top vans looked like they’ve seen better days, but looked good with the outfit.

Grabbing a hair tie from your vanity, you pulled your long hair back, wrapping the tie around it, just to pull it out right after.

You tried different hairstyles, not liking a single one.

Why do I even care how my hair looks?

You settled for a ponytail, deciding it’s what matched the outfit better.

The last final piece was Sunghoon’s jacket, pulling it over your shoulders. You turned around in the mirror, glancing back to see his initials on the back.

“You’ll be my good luck charm.”

You caught yourself smiling at the memory, bringing the hems of the jacket up to your nose, breathing in the smell.

It still smelt like him, even after you’ve had it for the last couple of days. The familiar smell of blackberry and floral filled your senses.

His scent brought you comfort, the knot of nerves unraveling and disappearing.

While the nerves found their way out, other feelings crept their way in.

Your heart raced faster, thinking about the smile on Sunghoon’s face he’d have when he saw you.

The more thoughts of him that flooded your brain, the more guilty you felt.

He’s your best friend’s ex…you can’t be thinking about and getting so giddy over him.

You slapped your hands to your face, hoping it would be enough to kick those feelings out.

Unfortunately, they didn’t.

You sat down at your vanity, pulling open one of the drawers, revealing a photo booth picture strip of yourself, Sunghoon, and your best friend.

You held the fragile paper in your hands, staring at each set of photos one by one. Eyes locking onto Sunghoon.

You didn’t feel this way about him back then, so why now all of a sudden does he have your stomach tied in knots?

His smile in the photos sent your heart racing. The way he was looking at your best friend, you couldn’t help but wish he looked at you like that.

You quickly shoved the photo strip back into the drawer, slamming it shut.

You stood from the chair, grabbed your phone and keys, and walked out of your room.

By the time you showed up at the stadium, the opposing team and Sunghoon’s team lined up on each side of the rink doing their warmups.

Your eyes searched for him, seeing the number 23 skating by quickly, him swinging the hockey stick, sending the puck flying into the goal.

Even though it was just a practice shot, you clapped anyway.

Sunghoon skated back into line, eyes wandering the crowd until he found you. Your smile sends butterflies in his stomach fluttering about.

God, you look so good right now. The way your hair was pulled back, the way your thighs peeked out from the rips of your jeans, and how perfect his jacket looked on you.

Sunghoon never let his ex wear that jacket, it was so special to him, so much that only he wanted to wear it. But it was so different with you.

He gave you a wave, letting you know that he does indeed, know you’re here.

The game finally started, and the butterflies did not calm down one bit. He had to do well in this game. He couldn’t disappoint you.

Heeseung patted his back, “Calm down buddy, you’re our best player. Can’t have you tapping out on us.”

Jay agreed, “This isn’t even the first game of the season, what’s got you so worked up all of a sudden?”

“YN is here,” Niki, one of the only freshmen on the team, teased.

Sunghoon shot the younger one a glare, “Brother, you don’t want to tease me right now.”

Niki smirked, “Man, I know enough about your life and I barely have been on the team.”

Jay slapped Sunghoon’s shoulder, “Just ignore the kid, he’s just a little silly.”

Niki agreed, “Just a little bit.”

Sunghoon waved his teammates off, “I am fine, my nerves have nothing to do with YN being here.”

His friends looked at him with telling faces, they knew he was lying. Knew he was full of shit. But deciding to let it go.

The game went on, each of the teams scoring left and right.

You sat on the edge of your seat, hands clasped together at your chest. There were five minutes left on the clock, your team was only a point ahead.

Your eyes followed Sunghoon on the ice, you could tell by his body language he was stressed. The way he stretched his arms out over his hockey stick behind his neck was enough to tell how absent-minded he was in this moment, the only thing he could focus on was getting one last point. Swinging his stick back down onto the ice, slightly bending over, ready for anything.

Jay passed the puck to Niki, pushing the puck across the rink, Sunghoon positioned himself, screaming for Niki to pass the puck towards him.

Niki passed it quickly to him. Sunghoon grabbed the puck, pushing his feet and legs as quickly as he could against the ice, the only thing on his mind was to keep the puck against the stick.

As he neared the goal, the goalie prepared himself for Sunghoon to make a shot.

Sweat dripped down the side of his face, hands gripping tighter on the stick as he lifted it from the ice and puck.

You stood to your feet, hands hovering over your chest, gripping at the fabric of your shirt.

Sunghoon swung the stick using all the force possible and hit the puck, watching as the black disc flew across the ice.

The world seemed to go in slow motion for Sunghoon, his eyes wide as the anticipation of waiting for the puck to reach the goalie, it sliding gracefully between the goalie's legs, the guy barely missing to stop it.

Sunghoon pivoted, stopping his motion on the ice. His eyes locked onto the puck, confirming it hit the net.

He turned his body towards his teammates, the world around him going back to normal speed. The crowd cheered, and his teammates surrounded him, slapping their hands against his chest, shoulders, and back. The clock hit its final second, the buzzer sounding. The game was over. We won.

We won..!!

Sunghoon started screaming and cheering with his teammates, hands slapping them as they continued to slap him.

You rushed down to the wall, the upper half of your body leaning over it, cupping your hands to your mouth, “Sunghoon!!!”

He didn’t hear you over the screams of his mates and fans. But it felt as if he knew you were waiting for him.

His eyes found you and started pushing past his teammates, sliding his helmet off and handing it and his stick off to Heeseung.

Using what was left of his leg strength, he pushed himself towards you quickly.

He stretched his arms up in the air, shouting, “WE DID IT!!”

You couldn’t stop your smile from falling, not when Sunghoon looked as happy as he did at that moment. His fangs were on full display from how wide he was smiling.

His body crashed against the wall, his gloved hands wrapping around your waist, connecting his torso to yours.

His wet sweaty hair tickled your cheek as he pulled you into a hug. The first hug you’ve received from him since…well the breakup.

You patted his back, leaning your head against his, “You played so well! I am so proud of you!”

You’ve never gotten to tell him how exactly proud of him you were. For all the years you’ve known him, he’s always given his one hundred percent, but because of the past circumstances, you weren’t able to voice how proud you were of him, your best friend wouldn’t have allowed it.

Hearing you tell him how well he did was enough to risk everything. It did something so deep to his heart that he couldn’t hide it anymore.

It’s now or never Park Sunghoon, just do it.

“I told you. I told you that you were my good luck charm,” he whispered in your ear, brushing his cheek against yours as he moved his head up. Brushing his nose against yours softly before moving in, pressing his lips against yours quickly.

So fast that you didn’t have time to process it as his hands left your waist and he was skating backward away from you. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes stayed locked with yours.

Your fingertips touched your lips, your ears blocking out all sound as the rest of your senses focused on the man in front of you.

He kissed you…Oh my god, he kissed you!!!

Sunghoon gave you a wink and said “Meet me by my car!” then turned back around, skating to his teammates, all of them huddling together.

—

He pressed you up against his front door, using your body to completely shut it, his fingers flipping the lock as his tongue invaded your mouth, your brain going fuzzy.

You met him at his car after the game and convinced you to have dinner with him and the team.

You sat beside him in the booth at this fancy diner, his arm was wrapped around your shoulder, his fingers softly rubbing against your arm. Once the food arrived at the table, his arm went from being behind you to his hand resting on your thigh, his fingers sliding between the rips of your jeans, squeezing the plush skin.

His touch was driving you crazy, and with your new emotions towards him, it made his contact with your skin make you hot and bothered.

Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off you, and you liked it. Liked the attention he was giving you.

Liked it so much that you didn’t even think twice when he drove right past the street of your apartment building and pulled into his apartment building.

He held both your hands tightly, his smile so bright as he guided you up the stairs to his apartment. Soft laughs leaving his lips at just the thought of being with you.

He was dying to kiss you again. Like properly kiss you.

He wanted to kiss you so bad that the moment you were inside his apartment, his hands and body were pressed against yours, using his weight to push you against his door. Lips connecting to yours as if he were running out of oxygen and your lips were the sole source of air.

His hands moved from your hips, sliding up your torso, fingers grazing against your breasts and up to your neck, hands cupping your jaw.

You kissed him back forcefully, pushing your tongue between his lips, rubbing the muscle against his own, mixing your saliva.

You tasted so sweet to him. He couldn’t get enough.

Sunghoon went to pull away, wanting to attach his lips to your neck, but you weren’t ready for his lips to leave yours.

You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, biting a bit harder than you expected.

Sunghoon hissed out in pleasure, rolling his hips against yours, his clothed hard length pressing at your heat.

You released his lip, his hands taking yours and lifting them above your head, pinning you against the door, his lips attaching themself to your neck, “Keep acting up baby and I just might have to punish you.”

His words sent chills down your spine as he left open mouth kisses on your neck. Your imagination running wild at what these punishments would be, but being too afraid to test his limits.

Sunghoon loved hearing the soft moans escaping your pretty little mouth. It was music to his ears.

He placed his leg right between yours, using it to spread them further apart, giving him more access to press his cock against you.

You were shaking, wanting to completely feel him against you, skin to skin.

“Hoonie,” you whispered in his ear, “Please,”

Sunghoon reached down, cupping the back of your thighs and lifting you up, wrapping your legs around him. His hands sliding to cup your ass, lips finding yours again.

“Say less princess,” he mumbled against your lips as he carried you to his bedroom.

He laid you down gently on his bed, his right hand stayed on your thigh, squeezing it tightly to keep it wrapped around him as his left hand flew to his shirt, fingers working their magic at the buttons.

You became impatient, sending your hands to help undress him.

You slid the fabric off his shoulders and down his arms, your fingers feeling every muscle as they traced down his skin and off his body.

Your eyes took a moment to appreciate his body. You already knew he worked out, but good lord was his toned, buff body beautiful.

Sunghoon kissed you again, his hands sliding his jacket off your body then finding their way under your shirt and up and over your head.

He worked with the button of your jeans as you worked with his.

He slid his jeans and underwear down together, leaving him completely bare to you.

His fingers looped between your jeans and panties, lifting your hips up as he pulled them off your body.

“Fuck, YN,” he moaned out, hands snaking underneath you to unclasp your bra, your breasts falling to their natural place once the material was on the floor. His eyes looked your bare body up and down, before laying his body on top of yours, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair when he kissed you again, your tongues dancing together in perfect rhythm, his hand sliding down your body and stopping at your thigh to pull it back over his waist.

Sunghoon was completely turned on just by the skin-to-skin contact, by just feeling your pretty legs wrapped around him.

He rolled his hips, rubbing his dick against your clit, his hand fumbling at his nightstand drawer for his box of condoms.

You woke up that next morning with the sun shining through his bedroom window.

Sunghoon had his head on your chest still fast asleep.

His arm was wrapped around your waist, the bedsheets were tangled up between yours and his legs. His leg hung out from the sheets and they hung at his hips, his bare back exposed.

Your heart raced at the site in front of you.

Did this actually happen?? I am not dreaming?

Your hand touched his bicep, fingers softly moving up and down his arm.

Sunghoon moved his head up, tucking it in your neck, arm tightening around you. He was still fast asleep.

Guilt washed over you once again. You just had sex with your best friend's ex-boyfriend. She would kill you both if she knew what happened last night.

Did you regret it? Absolutely not. The sex was perfect. Sunghoon is perfect. But that still didn’t stop the thoughts that it shouldn’t have happened.

Would you do it again? Regardless of these thoughts? Also yes.

Your relationship with Sunghoon was different now. You had deep feelings for him. And the fact that he kept inviting you over, inviting you to his practices and games, asking to see you after classes, and randomly showing up at your front door, proved enough to you that it wasn’t about the sex that night, that his feelings also ran deep for you too.

Your coffee shop days were more intimate, instead of sitting across from each other, you’d sit beside each other. Hands locking together as you’d drink your coffees.

He would be waiting outside your apartment door every single morning to drive you to class.

You would cheer him on from the bleachers at every practice, and have dinner with him afterwards.

The sex got more intense the more comfortable you both got. You saw a whole new side of Sunghoon in the bedroom. A side you never thought you’d ever see or even thought about seeing until recently.

He explored every inch of your body, his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. Shoving his fingers in your mouth as he pounded into you from behind. Bruises were left on your hips from how his fingers would grip your skin.

You got more bold too. From being his little submissive princess to a dominant queen. The way you’d jerk your hand up and down his cock sending his head flying back, body shaking from your touch as you straddled him.

Sunghoon became a part of your daily life, just like he was all that time ago.

You showed up to every game wearing his jacket, being that good luck charm you knew you were to him. Everything felt right.

—

Sunghoon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down onto your couch with him, “Babe, cuddle me! I am touch starved!”

You rolled your eyes at him, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip, “We just had sex, yet you’re still touch-starved?”

“Obviously!” he nuzzled his face at the nape of your neck, hands gripping the hem of your shirt, “Let’s have sex again.”

“Hoonie,” you giggled at the feeling of his lips kissing your neck, “You have practice in thirty minutes, you need to get ready soon.”

Sunghoon groaned against your neck, but he knew you were right.

Sunghoon went to propose skipping practice tonight but got distracted by your phone ringing, eyes darting over to it, being the nosey guy that he is, and seeing…his ex’s name on the caller ID.

His smile faded, why would she be calling you?

You sighed at seeing your best friend's name on your phone, finger-hitting the decline.

Calling her your best friend seemed pointless now. Right before things kicked off between you and Sunghoon, she found another boy toy to mess around with, completely ignoring you. You’ve also tried many times to hang out with her, to go by and see her at her job, to invite her over to do homework, to try and just hang with her when Sunghoon was busy, yet all she did was ignore you. So the fact she’s hitting you up now only means she needs something from you. And to say you were exhausted from it would be an understatement.

Maybe it was karma for keeping your relationship with Sunghoon a secret from her. But you also knew you couldn’t tell her. At least not right now.

You felt bad declining the call, deciding to shoot her a quick text saying you were busy in the shower and couldn’t answer the call just for her to reply saying it was fine, but was wanting the notes from class today and then sent a smiley face :)

Sunghoon shook his head, “Please don’t.”

You set your phone down, not responding to her, “Don’t what?” you knew the answer, but tried to play dumb anyways.

“YN, stop playing this game with her, she’s using you.”

You knew it was true, but hearing it come from his mouth didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less.

Sunghoon bit his lips in a way to keep himself calm. He hated that she was doing this to you. He saw firsthand how badly the breakup affected you too. You lost both of your best friends because of it. But the shitty part was you weren’t supposed to lose her, but you did anyway. She was supposed to stay by your side but didn’t.

She abandoned you. Even after she promised him she wouldn’t.

The secrets he wishes he could tell you in hopes of you cutting her off for good, but he couldn’t break that trust with her, even if she deserved it.

The only thing he could do was try and convince you in other ways.

“Baby,” he whispered, “Look at me.”

You did, shifting yourself in his lap to face him.

He tucked your hair behind your ears, “You deserve better than that. I know you love and care for her, and that she’s your best friend, but this friendship is toxic. All it is doing is hurting you.”

You looked away from his chocolate eyes and to the floor, “I know.”

Sunghoon pulled your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look back at him, “I don’t want you to hurt anymore, not just because of her, but because of me too. We both did some damage to you and I have to live with that. I am so fucking lucky you let me come back in your life. And well, I am not saying to completely cut her out of your life,” even though that is what he’s wanting, “but don’t do things like this for her anymore.”

You nodded. He was right. The only reason you kept doing things for her no matter what they were was to keep her in your life. You kept holding onto a rope that was torn a long time ago.

“Promise me,” he asked, holding up his pinky finger, “Please.”

You wrapped your pinky tightly with his, sealing the promise.

—

It was the final game of the season, if the boys win this game they move on to the championship.

Sunghoon stood with you by the wall, his hands trembling in his gloves.

He was nervous, scared even, it was written all over his face.

“Sunghoon,” you saying his name always sounded so beautiful to his ears. He looks over to you, giving a nervous smile, “It’ll be okay. You’re one of the best damn players on this team. The championship is calling your team's name!”

You could only hope your words were reaching him, helping make him feel better.

Which it did. His hand stopped trembling just from your smile. You were his good luck charm after all.

He slid his hand from his glove, cupping the side of your face, “I am the luckiest man alive to have you.”

You leaned into his hand, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

His couch blew the whistle for warm-ups to start.

“Gimme a good luck kiss princess,” he said pulling you closer to him, “It’ll give me strength.”

You giggled against his lips and pouted as he skated away, giving him a thumbs up.

Little did you know, your “best friend” was sitting in the bleachers, watching the entire thing.

The game went in a flash, Sunghoon once again scoring the winning goal.

You jumped from your seat and pressed against the wall, arms stretched out and waiting for Sunghoon to embrace himself into you, his lips crashing against yours in celebration of his win.

You stood at the end of the bleachers, eyes staring off down the hallway that led to the locker rooms, heart racing at wanting to see Sunghoon again, to be able to give him a proper hug for his win.

“OMG! You came to the game too?!”

Your heart sank at her voice, your friend connecting her shoulder to yours as she stood beside you.

Your body tensed, “Y-Yeah, it was their last game so I came to support them.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, her hands flying to Sunghoon’s jacket, “Isn’t this Hoon’s?” She forced you around, seeing his name printed on the back.

She knows she’s got to know.

She hummed again, “Why do you have his jacket, YN?”

You shrugged, leaning back against the bleacher, “I was cold and he offered it to me I guess.”

She crossed her arms, “He never let me borrow it, weird.”

“I was freezing,” you tried to play it off, “You know how cold I can get sometimes.”

She nodded, “That’s true,” her eyes darted down the hallway, “Since when did you and Hoon start hanging out again?”

She definitely knows.

You knew it was a matter of time before she found out, but you didn’t think it would be like this.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for her face to light up with excitement and her hands clapping.

The boys finally were leaving the locker room, “Here come our winners!” she said.

Sunghoon was with Jay, the two of them doing their handshake and walking in separate directions, Sunghoon’s smile fading after looking in your direction.

“OH EM GEE!!!” she squealed, grabbing your hand and rushing you both to meet Sunghoon halfway, “You are such a star Hoonie!”

She wrapped her arms around Sunghoon’s neck, but he was quick to pull her off of him, “What are you doing here?”

You were surprised how calm he was.

“Am I not allowed to come and support you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“You lost that right when we broke up.” he scoffed, “Why are you actually here?”

She pouted, pulling you to her side, “I missed you guys, wanted us to rekindle and be a trio again.”

Sunghoon could smell the bullshit radiating out of her mouth.

Does this bitch think I am stupid?

“Rekindle?” he chuckled, “Rekindle what? Exactly?” oh he was pissed now, “Explain yourself. Now.”

She let go of your arm, taking a step closer to him, “I miss you, Hoon.” She reached to touch his face, but he caught her arm with his hand, shoving it away from him.

“Don’t touch me.”

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, this fight didn’t involve you, it was something they had to settle.

“Hoon,” she begged, “I want you back, please.”

Sunghoon took a step back away from her, “Cut the bullshit.”

She rolled her eyes, “What bullshit?!”

“I am in a relationship,” he spat out, “I am happy.”

A laugh escaped her mouth, a laugh you’ve never heard her do before, “I know, I am not stupid,” she took a step back, wrapping her arms around you, “You’re fucking our sweet YN.”

Sunghoon’s grip on his duffle bag tightened and his jaw locked. What the fuck was she trying to pull here?

She smiled, knowing she got you both where she wanted you to be, “The fact that you’re both quiet speaks volumes, lemme tell ya.”

“What the fuck do you want?” he said through his locked jaw.

“I want to know why,” she pulled a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I want to know why you both betrayed me like this. Why my ex-boyfriend decided it was okay to fuck my best friend, and why my best friend decided it was okay to fuck my ex.”

Oh, she’s going there? Game on.

Sunghoon chuckled, “Best friend? Best friends don't abandon each other!”

“That’s rich coming from you,” she retorted.

“You abandoned her!!” he snapped.

“So did you!!” she snapped back, “You walked away just as much as I did!”

“I walked away because I cared about you! I cared about your feelings! You promised you’d stay by her side, not leave her to fight alone and use her for your own personal gain, that’s not a friendship!”

“Oh, here we go,” she laughed, “It’s always about YN.”

You wanted to speak up, to ask them what that meant, but before you could, Sunghoon was reaching for you.

He’s heard enough. He’s HAD enough. He couldn’t let this conversation continue, not when she might spill everything.

He pulled you to his side, pushing you in the direction towards the exit door, “YN, baby, let’s go.”

“How long did you think you could hide? Hmm?”

Both you and Sunghoon stopped walking.

“I’ve known for a while now,” you turned and faced her, waiting for her to finish, “You think I wouldn’t notice? Wouldn't notice either of your cars at each other's apartments?”

Sunghoon laughed, “So you’re stalking us now? That’s so fucking low.”

“How could I not? Not after I saw the two of you leaving that diner downtown a while ago,”

She’s known since the beginning.

“I thought maybe, at first, you two were just hanging out again. I minded my business. But then I thought, hmm, I should surprise visit YN. And I bet you could imagine my surprise when I pulled up to her apartment and saw your car parked there and her riding your dick on her couch.” your face flushed, embarrassed, “Maybe next time make sure your blinds are closed before fucking in the living room.”

Sunghoon sighed, pulling you closer to him. He felt like shit because of all this happening to you.

“This doesn’t excuse your shitty stalking behavior,” Sunghoon said.

She shrugged, “I only caught you by coincidence at first, the second time surprised me too. The rest I had to ask around campus to find out.”

Sunghoon was getting more pissed by the second, “YN doesn’t deserve this!!”

“You’re so right!” she clapped her hands, “She does deserve better friends, I know. We were so shitty to her. But you know what she also deserves? The truth.”

The…truth?

Sunghoon shook his head, “No, let’s go,” he tried pushing you toward the exit again, he wasn’t ready for you to hear what she was about to say.

You forced Sunghoon off you, taking a few steps back towards her, “What truth do I deserve to know?”

Mostly since Sunghoon seemed so set on me leaving just now.

Your friend smirked, “The truth about the reason why we broke up in the first place.”

Sunghoon snapped her name, “Keep your fucking mouth shut!”

You look back at him, “What is so goddamn secretive?”

Sunghoon sighed, his eyes dropping to the floor.

You looked back at her, “Well??”

“The reason we broke up was because of you.” she crossed her arms over her chest, eyes darting at Sunghoon.

“Because of me?” You couldn’t wrap your head around why, “W-what did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, YN,” Sunghoon finally said.

“Then…why…”

“Because he’s in love with you,” you stood there frozen, “He confessed to me a few months before we broke up on how deeply in love with you he was.” she said snarky, “That he caught feelings for you early on into our relationship, but kept it hidden all those years until he couldn’t. The guilt ate him up. Plus I caught him practically eye fucking you at one of the last parties we all attended together.”

You looked back at Sunghoon, his eyes glossed over. He’s been in love with you the entire time you’ve known him?

“It’s truly sad, isn’t it?” your friend continued, “The night we fought, was me making him promise to never come near you again. Guess it worked for a while.”

“Why would you promise that!” You yelled at him, “Why would you even agree to that?!”

“Because I still cared about her!” Sunghoon shook his head, “I wanted to respect her wishes, I wanted to respect you! You had no feelings towards me whatsoever, and after the last couple shitty months of my relationship with her, I wanted you to heal and find peace with losing me, had I known she would also walk away from you, I would have never let you go.”

“Why did you stay with her as long as you did if you wanted me?” It was a shitty question to ask, but you had to know.

“Because I was already a shitty person for falling in love with my girlfriend’s best friend. I didn’t want to hurt either of you. So I kept my feelings hidden until they eventually overflowed to the point I couldn’t contain it.”

With tears in your eyes, you stomped over to him, fists hitting his chest, “Why would you leave me then?! I needed you!” you cried it all out, releasing the frustration, and he just took it, “Do you know how lonely I was when you left? How terrible I felt watching you walk away that night? I lost part of my soul.”

Sunghoon pulled you to him, “Baby I know and I am so fucking sorry I did that to you.”

You cried into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt. Too many emotions were fighting you at all once. You were the sole reason your best friends broke up, how could you not feel like shit?

You pushed yourself off him, turning back towards your friend, “What is your excuse for leaving me?”

Her facial expression tightened, “How could I have stayed? Every time I looked at you all I could remember was the fact that my boyfriend wanted you, not me.”

Fair enough. But that was also such a shotty excuse.

“Guess our friendship didn’t mean shit to you,” you scoffed, “A boy meant more to you than I did. Meant more than our lifetime of friendship.”

She had nothing to say to that, just thinned her lips in a line, looking away.

“I’ve heard enough,” you softly said, “Take me home, please Sunghoon.”

He nodded, extending out his hand for you to take it, and you did. The two of you walking away.

“Enjoy my seconds, YN.”

Oh, she did not.

Sunghoon beat you to running his mouth, “At least YN pleases me. You should see the mess she makes of me since you want to stalk us so bad.”

You bit the insides of your cheeks to keep from laughing, was their sex life that bad?

Her face turned red you could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears, “Go to hell Sunghoon! It’s where you belong!”

He chuckled, “Gladly, I’d give up every piece of heaven for YN.”

She rolled her eyes, it was always about you. It’s always been you for him.

“Oh and by the way,” Sunghoon added, “I know you cheated on me multiple times with Mark from calculus, way before I confessed my feelings for YN. So us breaking up wasn’t just because of her. Suck a dick.”

Sunghoon wrapped an arm around you, a smirk on his face as you both listened to her yelling more nonsense.

—

He drove you home and walked you into your apartment.

“I really am sorry, YN.” Sunghoon wrapped you into his arms, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You cupped his face, thumbs wiping the tears that fell, “Don’t ever apologize, okay? You were caught in a situation.”

“It’s no excuse,” he took your hands in his, “I love you, I always have. I shouldn’t have walked away.”

You just nodded, standing on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his nose, “I love you, Park Sunghoon. You’re with me now, and that’s all that matters.”

It was true. He was so lucky to have you. To finally have you after waiting for you for so long.

Thank god he decided to try that coffee shop out.

“Was sex with her really that bad?” you asked, a giggle escaping.

He laughed too, “Yeah, never came once.”

“I guess that means I win in that department too since I make such a mess outta you,”

Sunghoon bit his lip, sliding his hands to squeeze your waist, “Keep talking like that and I’ll ruin you.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his lips then escaped his arms, running towards your bedroom, “Can’t ruin me if I make a mess of you first.”

Sunghoon chased after you, his heart pounding at the happiness on your face.

God, he really was the luckiest man alive.

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silcry

1 year ago

THE MORE IS READ THE MORE SHOCKED IT GOT WHEJKSKSKSKALSSN OMG JAY BABE???? WDYM „ring we picked last time“ ???????

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟓𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: we literally only have two chaps and the epilogue left this is CRAZY 🤕 thank you guys so, so much for all the love and support, am sending everyone kisses pls accept them as a form of gratitude 🥺 i love you all sm💞 feedback is always appreciated!!!💞🧸)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @xrr-s4sha @kwiwin @heelcvr @deobitifull @kpoprhia @doodlelibrary @abrazosolorcereza @certifiedmoa @sleeping-demons @heerinnie @ohmy-moonlightx @heeswif3y @hoonieluv @fakeuwus @jongszn @cheybabey @ineedsomezzz @super-amberlynn @kshoshi @tinie03 @jseongies @mimikittysblog @primroselover @heebrry @jebetwo @donghyckl @07myonlylove @enhamysunshines @quemirasboboandapaya @lostwonderwall @seuomo @enhaz1 @teawithbucky @beomgyusonlywife @dammit-jjk @lhsvibez @azurez @boutyouwonu @finchyyy @ocyeanicc @jaylaxies @in-somnias-world @zerasari @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @capri-cuntz @fluerz @3amstarlight

355 notes View Post

silcry

10 months ago

an eye for an eye — p.sh masterlist

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: revenge, angst, smut, fluff

synopsis: Sunghoon nurtured a profound animosity towards his childhood friend, Lee Heeseung, blaming him for his sister's death. To Sunghoon, his sister was the only person who had genuinely loved him, making Heeseung's perceived betrayal unforgivable. This deep resentment sparked an intense desire for revenge, driving Sunghoon to extreme measures to achieve it. But to what extent would he go to find satisfaction in his vengeance against Lee Heeseung? Would his plans unfold smoothly, or would everything take an unexpected turn, throwing his schemes into something he didn’t expect.

word count: around 19k

warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, kidnapping (kinda), possessive hoon, mentions of death, fake marriage, depression, fist fighting, bleeding, hoon has detachment issues.

— an eye for an eye: part 1 (7k)

— an eye for an eye: part 2 (8.1k)

— an eye for an eye: last part

361 notes View Post

silcry

1 year ago

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟐𝟐

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: unhinged, jealous!hee is back and better than ever, everyone say "thank you jaeyun" 🤭 ik i haven't replied to asks just yet but ive been quite busy atm, will do once i have the time babies! tysm for everything, i love you gyus sm.🥺 feedback and reblogs are appreciated!!!🩷🧸)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @thvhannie @enhaz1 @kpoprhia @abrazosolorcereza @deobitifull @mixtape-racha @certifiedmoa @jungwon-xo @hoonieluv @enhamysunshines @jaehoonii @pussyslayerhd @ineedsomezzz @neocockthotology @heerinnie @onionzzzs @hee-pster @3amstarlight @xxxxrvexxxx @primroselover @mimikittysblog @iea-tsand @lhspeachie @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @smg-valeria @kells5595 @heeseunghee7 @xrvrqs @ddazed-lhs @heebrry @fakeuwus @dammit-jjk @ivyannemarie @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @s00buwu

468 notes View Post

silcry

10 months ago

In Another Life

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Rome, 79 AD

The bustling streets of Rome pulse with life as you make your way through the crowded forum. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat wafts through the air, mingling with the chatter of merchants and citizens going about their daily business. You adjust your stola, the flowing garment feeling unusually constricting today as you hurry towards the Temple of Venus.

“Watch where you’re going!” A gruff voice shouts as you accidentally bump into a burly man carrying an amphora.

“My apologies,” you mutter, quickening your pace. Your heart races, not from the near-collision, but from anticipation. You’re running late for your clandestine meeting with Charles, the young patrician who has captured your heart.

As you approach the temple, you spot him pacing nervously at the base of the steps. His toga gleams white in the afternoon sun and his usually perfectly coiffed hair is slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it anxiously.

“There you are!” Charles exclaims as you draw near. His face breaks into a relieved smile, and he reaches for your hands. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.”

You can’t help but return his smile, your earlier stress melting away. “As if I could stay away,” you tease, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “Though I must say, your choice of meeting place is rather bold. The Temple of Venus? Are you trying to tell me something?”

He laughs, a warm, rich sound that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. “Perhaps I’m simply hoping the goddess will smile upon us,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “After all, we could use all the divine favor we can get.”

Your smile falters slightly at his words, reality creeping back in. “Have you spoken with your father?” You ask, unable to keep the worry from your voice.

Charles’ expression grows serious. “I have,” he says, leading you to a secluded corner of the temple grounds. “He’s ... not pleased, to say the least. He still insists on the marriage to Claudia.”

You feel a pang in your chest at the mention of Charles’ intended bride. “And what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Charles replies firmly. “That my heart belongs to you and I won’t marry another.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Charles,” you whisper, “you know the consequences-”

He cuts you off, cupping your face in his hands. “I don’t care about the consequences. I love you, Y/N. I won’t let my father’s ambitions or society’s expectations keep us apart.”

You lean into his touch, torn between elation and fear. “But your family, your position ... you’d lose everything.”

“Not everything,” Charles insists. “I’d have you. That’s all that matters.”

You’re about to respond when a commotion near the temple entrance catches your attention. Your blood runs cold as you spot Charles’ father, Senator Leclerc, striding towards you, flanked by several burly slaves.

“Charles!” The senator bellows, his face contorted with rage. “Step away from that girl at once!”

Charles instinctively moves to shield you. “Father, please,” he begins, but the senator cuts him off.

“Silence! You shame our family with this ... this dalliance. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

You feel Charles tense beside you. “It’s not a dalliance, Father. I love her.”

The senator’s face grows even redder. “Love? You know nothing of love, boy. You have a duty to your family, to Rome. I won’t let you throw it all away for some common girl.”

“She’s not common,” Charles argues, his voice rising. “She’s extraordinary, and I won’t let you or anyone speak ill of her.”

The tension in the air is palpable as father and son face off. You want to intervene, to de-escalate the situation, but you’re frozen in place, your heart pounding.

Suddenly, one of the senator’s slaves moves forward, reaching for Charles. Without thinking, you step between them. “Don’t touch him!” You cry out.

Everything happens in a blur. The slave’s hand connects with your shoulder, shoving you back. You stumble, your foot catching on the hem of your stola. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself falling, tumbling down the temple steps.

“Y/N!” Charles’ anguished cry is the last thing you hear before pain explodes through your body and the world goes dark.

You drift in and out of consciousness, aware of frantic voices and the sensation of being carried. Charles’ face swims into view, streaked with tears.

“Stay with me, love,” he pleads, his voice cracking. “Please, don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, to reassure him, but no words come. The pain is fading now, replaced by a strange numbness. You manage to lift a hand to Charles’ cheek, wanting to wipe away his tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I love you, Charles. In this life and the next.”

As darkness closes in, your last thought is a desperate hope that someday, somehow, you’ll find each other again.

Genoa, 1348

The acrid smell of smoke and death hangs heavy in the air as Charles makes his way through the narrow, winding streets. His eyes water, both from the stench and the unshed tears he’s been holding back for days. The plague has ravaged the city, leaving behind a trail of devastation and despair.

Charles pulls his cloth mask tighter over his nose and mouth, though he knows it’s likely futile. He’s a physician, one of the few brave — or foolish — enough to still tend to the sick. But today, he’s not seeking out patients. He’s searching for you.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice muffled by the mask. “Y/N, where are you?”

A nearby door creaks open, and a haggard face peers out. “Keep your voice down, fool,” the old woman hisses. “You’ll bring the afflicted running.”

Charles ignores her, pressing on. His heart races with each step, fear and hope warring within him. He hasn’t seen you in days, not since you left to care for your ailing aunt. The memory of your parting plays in his mind, as vivid as if it were happening now.

“I have to go,” you had said, your eyes filled with determination and fear. “She has no one else.”

He had tried to dissuade you. “It’s too dangerous. The plague-”

“I know the risks,” you’d cut him off. “But I can’t abandon her. You’d do the same if it were your family.”

He couldn’t argue with that. It was one of the things he loved most about you — your unwavering compassion, even in the face of danger.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he’d pleaded, pulling you close. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

You’d kissed him then, soft and sweet. “I promise. Nothing could keep me from you, my love. Not even death itself.”

Now, as he rounds another corner, Charles clings to that promise like a lifeline. “Y/N!” He calls again, desperation creeping into his voice.

Suddenly, he spots a familiar figure stumbling down the street. His heart leaps. “Y/N!”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and Charles feels his world tilt on its axis. Your face is pale, your eyes glassy with fever. As he watches in horror, you collapse to the ground.

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, rushing to your side. He gathers you in his arms, his physician’s training warring with his lover’s panic. “Y/N, can you hear me? Open your eyes, love.”

Your eyelids flutter, and you manage a weak smile. “Charles,” you whisper. “You found me.”

“Of course I found you,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll always find you. Now, let’s get you home and take care of you.”

You shake your head slightly. “No, it’s too late. The plague-”

“Don’t say that,” Charles interrupts fiercely. “It’s not too late. I’m a physician, remember? I’ll cure you. I have to.”

Despite your condition, you manage a soft laugh. “My stubborn love. Always fighting the impossible.”

Charles lifts you gently, cradling you against his chest. “Nothing’s impossible when it comes to you,” he insists, starting the journey back to his home. “We’ve overcome so much already. Remember when we first met? You were convinced a lowly apprentice physician could never court a merchant’s daughter.”

You smile at the memory. “And you were determined to prove me wrong.”

“Which I did,” Charles says, a hint of his old cockiness creeping into his voice. “Rather spectacularly, if I recall correctly.”

“Mmm, yes,” you murmur. “That night under the stars, when you recited all those ridiculous poems ...”

Charles chuckles. “They weren’t ridiculous. They were romantic.”

“They were terrible,” you counter weakly. “But your heart was in the right place.”

As they near Charles’ home, your breathing becomes more labored. Fear claws at Charles’ chest, but he forces it down. “Stay with me, love,” he pleads. “We’re almost there.”

Once inside, Charles lays you gently on the bed. He works tirelessly, applying every treatment and remedy he knows. Hours blur together as he fights against the inevitable, refusing to give up hope.

But as night falls, he can no longer deny the truth. The plague is winning and he’s powerless to stop it.

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “It’s time to let go.”

He shakes his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. “No, I can’t. I won’t lose you again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Again?”

Charles pauses, unsure where that thought came from. “I ... I don’t know. It just feels like I’ve lost you before, somehow.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps in another life,” you muse. “But in this one, we found each other. We loved. That’s what matters.”

“It’s not enough,” Charles insists, his voice breaking. “We were supposed to have more time. We were going to get married, have children, grow old together.”

“We’ll have that chance,” you say with surprising conviction. “If not in this life, then in the next. Our souls are bound, Charles. I feel it. This isn’t the end for us.”

Charles wants to believe you, but the grief is overwhelming. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know our love,” you reply, reaching up to touch his face. “It’s stronger than death, stronger than time itself. We’ll find each other again, my love. I promise.”

As your hand falls away, your eyes close for the last time. Charles pulls you close, his body wracked with sobs. “I’ll find you,” he vows through his tears. “In this life or the next, I’ll always find you.”

Days pass in a haze of grief and determination. Charles throws himself into treating the sick with renewed vigor, heedless of the risk to himself. And when the telltale symptoms begin to appear — the fever, the chills, the aching limbs — he faces them without fear.

As he lies in his sickbed, Charles’ thoughts are only of you. “I’m coming, my love,” he whispers to the empty room. “Wait for me.”

His last conscious thought is a fervent hope that somehow, somewhere, you’ll be reunited once more.

Paris, 1789

The streets of Paris echo with the sound of angry voices and marching feet as Charles makes his way through the city’s winding alleys. His heart races, not from the exertion of his hurried pace, but from the fear of what’s to come. The revolution has begun in earnest, and his world is crumbling around him.

“Charles!” Your voice cuts through the chaos, and he turns to see you running towards him, your skirts hiked up to allow for faster movement. “Thank God I found you. We have to go, now!”

He grabs your hand, pulling you into a shadowy doorway. “Y/N, what are you doing here? It’s not safe!”

You cup his face in your hands, your eyes blazing with determination. “I couldn’t leave without you. The mob is heading for your family’s estate. We need to get you out of the city.”

Charles feels a rush of love for you, even as fear grips his heart. You, a baker’s daughter, risking everything to save him. “And what of you? Your family?”

“They’re safe,” you assure him. “Papa closed the bakery and they’ve gone to stay with relatives in the countryside. But you ... Charles, they’ll kill you if they find you.”

He knows you’re right. His family name, once a source of pride, is now a death sentence. “Where can we go?” He asks, his mind racing.

“I have a plan,” you say, tugging him back into the street. “There’s a farmer who owes my father a favor. He’s agreed to hide us until we can secure passage to England.”

As you hurry through the streets, the sounds of the mob grow louder. Charles can’t help but look back, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he’s leaving behind.

“Charles, focus,” you urge, squeezing his hand. “We’re almost there.”

Suddenly, a group of revolutionaries rounds the corner ahead of you. Their eyes lock onto Charles, recognition dawning on their faces.

“Aristocrat!” One of them shouts, pointing an accusing finger. “Seize him!”

“Run!” Charles yells, pulling you in the opposite direction. You flee hand-in-hand, weaving through the narrow streets as shouts and footsteps echo behind you.

“This way,” you pant, yanking him down an alley. “I know a shortcut.”

You lead him through a maze of backstreets, the angry voices growing fainter. Just as Charles begins to hope you’ve lost them, you emerge onto a main road … and straight into the path of another group of revolutionaries.

“Halt!” A burly man with a tricolor sash shouts, leveling a musket at Charles.

Charles pushes you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Please,” he says, raising his hands. “We mean no harm. We’re just trying to leave the city.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “You’re Leclerc’s boy, aren’t you? The one who’s been helping nobles escape?”

Charles feels you stiffen behind him. He’d kept his activities secret, even from you, to keep you safe. But now ...

“Yes,” he admits, straightening his spine. “I’ve been helping innocent people escape persecution. If that’s a crime, then I’m guilty.”

The man’s face twists with rage. “Traitor to the revolution!” He spits. “You’ll pay for your crimes against the people!”

As the man raises his musket, time seems to slow. Charles is acutely aware of your rapid breathing behind him, of the sweat beading on his brow, of the hammering of his heart.

“No!” You cry out, trying to push past Charles. “Please, he’s a good man! He’s helped people, saved lives!”

“Y/N, don’t,” Charles pleads, holding you back. He turns to face you, drinking in the sight of your face, committing every detail to memory. “I love you,” he says softly. “In this life and the next.”

The words trigger a flash of memory — or is it déjà vu? Charles has a sudden feeling that he’s said those words before, in another time, another place.

The moment is shattered by the deafening crack of the musket firing. Charles feels a searing pain in his chest, and then he’s falling, the world tilting sideways.

“Charles!” You anguished scream seems to come from far away. He feels your arms around him, cradling his head in your lap. “No, no, no. Stay with me, my love. Please!”

Charles tries to speak, but only a wet cough comes out. He can taste blood in his mouth. The pain is fading now, replaced by a spreading numbness.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to whisper. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Tears stream down your face as you bend over him. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re a hero, Charles. My hero.”

He wants to tell you how much he loves you, how meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to him. But the darkness is closing in, and he can feel himself slipping away.

As his eyes flutter closed, Charles has a strange sensation of déjà vu. He sees flashes of other lives — ancient Rome, plague-ridden Genoa — where he loved you and lost you. Or did you lose him?

With his last breath, Charles makes a silent vow. Somehow, someway, he’ll find you again. In the next life, you’ll get it right. You have to.

The world fades to black, but Charles isn’t afraid. He knows this isn’t the end. It’s just another beginning.

You hold Charles’ lifeless body, your sobs echoing in the suddenly quiet street. The revolutionaries stand awkwardly, some looking ashamed, others defiant.

“What have you done?” You cry out, your voice raw with grief and anger. “He was a good man! He helped people!”

The man with the musket shifts uncomfortably. “He was an aristocrat,” he mutters, but there’s less conviction in his voice now.

You look up at him, your eyes blazing through your tears. “He was a human being,” you say fiercely. “And you murdered him.”

As the reality of what they’ve done sinks in, the crowd begins to disperse. You’re left alone with Charles, cradling his body in the middle of the street.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “In the next life, my love. I promise we’ll be together again.”

As night falls over Paris, you sit vigil over Charles’ body, your heart broken but your spirit undefeated. Somewhere deep inside, you know this isn’t the end of your story. It’s just another chapter in a love that spans lifetimes.

London, 1942

The steady tick of the clock on the mantle seems to echo through the small London flat as you pace anxiously, your eyes darting to the window every few seconds. The air raid sirens have been silent for days, but the tension in the city remains palpable. It’s been weeks since you’ve heard from Charles, and the knot of worry in your stomach grows tighter with each passing day.

A sharp knock at the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you rush to answer it, hope and fear warring within you. But instead of Charles’ warm smile, you’re met with the solemn face of his fellow RAF pilot, James.

“James,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. “What is it? What’s happened?”

James removes his cap, twisting it in his hands. “May I come in? I’m afraid I have some news about Charles.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis as you step back, allowing James to enter. You lead him to the small sitting room, your movements mechanical, as if you’re watching yourself from a distance.

“Please,” you say, gesturing to a chair. “Sit down and tell me everything.”

James perches on the edge of the armchair, his discomfort palpable. “There’s no easy way to say this. Charles’ plane was shot down over the Channel three days ago. We ... we haven’t found any survivors.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, driving the air from your lungs. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “No, that can’t be right. Charles is too good a pilot. He promised he’d come back to me.”

James leans forward, his eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Charles was one of the best pilots I’ve ever known, but the Jerries caught us by surprise. There was nothing he could do.”

You sink onto the sofa, your legs suddenly unable to support you. “Tell me what happened,” you demand, your voice stronger than you feel. “I need to know everything.”

James nods, taking a deep breath. “We were on a routine patrol over the Channel. Everything seemed quiet, and then suddenly the sky was full of Messerschmitts. They came out of nowhere, diving out of the sun.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair. “Charles ... he was incredible. He managed to take down two of them before they could even react. But there were just too many of them.”

You close your eyes, picturing Charles in the cockpit of his Spitfire, his face set with determination as he faced impossible odds. It’s an image that both comforts and devastates you.

“I saw his plane take a hit,” James continues, his voice rough with emotion. “He was trying to draw their fire away from the rest of us. The last thing I heard over the radio was him saying, ‘Tell Y/N I love her. In this life and the next.’”

A sob escapes you at those words, so achingly familiar. “He’s said that before,” you murmur, more to yourself than to James.

“I’m sorry?” James asks, leaning closer.

You shake your head, unsure how to explain the strange sense of déjà vu. “It’s nothing. Please, go on.”

James nods, though he looks at you curiously. “His plane went down fast after that. We searched for hours, but with the weather and the waves ...” He trails off, leaving the grim implication hanging in the air.

“So there’s still a chance?” You ask, clinging to a shred of hope. “If you didn’t find ... if there’s no body, he could still be out there, right?”

The pity in James’ eyes is almost unbearable. “Y/N, I know it’s hard to accept, but the chances of survival in those conditions ... it would take a miracle.”

You stand abruptly, pacing the small room. “Then I’ll believe in miracles,” you declare fiercely. “Charles is strong, and he’s a survivor. He wouldn’t leave me, not like this.”

James rises, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I understand. Charles spoke of you often, you know. He loved you more than anything in this world.”

“Loves,” you correct him sharply. “He loves me. Present tense.”

James nods, not arguing. “Of course. I’m sorry, I should go. Is there anything you need? Anyone I can call for you?”

You shake your head, suddenly desperate to be alone. “No, thank you. I just ... I need some time.”

As you show James out, he pauses at the door. “Charles was more than just my commanding officer. He was my friend. If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You manage a weak smile. “Thank you, James. That means a lot.”

As the door closes behind him, the flat seems to grow impossibly quiet. You lean against the wall, feeling as though you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

Your eyes fall on a framed photograph of Charles, taken just before he left for his last mission. His smile is radiant, his eyes full of life and love. You pick up the frame, tracing his features with a trembling finger.

“You promised,” you whisper to the image. “You promised you’d come back to me.”

A memory surfaces, unbidden. Charles, laughing as he spun you around in the park on your first date. “You know,” he had said, his eyes twinkling, “I have the strangest feeling I’ve known you forever.”

You had felt it too, that inexplicable sense of familiarity, of coming home. “Maybe we knew each other in a past life,” you had joked.

Charles had grown serious then, cupping your face in his hands. “If that’s true,” he had said softly, “then I’m certain I loved you just as much then as I do now.”

The memory is too much. Your knees buckle, and you sink to the floor, still clutching the photograph to your chest. Sobs wrack your body as the full weight of your loss crashes over you.

“Come back to me,” you plead between gasping breaths. “Please, Charles. Find me again. In this life or the next, just find me.”

As you kneel there, lost in your grief, a strange calm settles over you. Deep in your soul, you feel a certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Charles will find each other again.

You have to believe it. It’s the only thing that will get you through the long, dark nights ahead.

Berlin, 1961

The cold November air bites at Charles’ face as he paces along the western side of the Berlin Wall, his breath forming small clouds in the dim light of dawn. His eyes scan the imposing concrete barrier, searching for any sign of movement on the other side. He checks his watch for the hundredth time, willing the minutes to pass faster.

“Come on, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath. “Where are you?”

As if in answer to his plea, a small pebble arcs over the wall, landing at his feet. Charles’ heart leaps as he bends to retrieve it, unfolding the small piece of paper wrapped around it.

I’m here, the note reads in your familiar handwriting. Same spot. Be careful.

Charles moves quickly to a section of the wall where a drain pipe creates a small blind spot from the watchtowers. He pulls out a compact mirror, angling it to catch a glimpse of the other side.

“Y/N,” he whispers urgently. “Can you hear me?”

“Charles!” Your voice comes back, barely audible. “Thank God. I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“I’ll always come for you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Are you alright? Did anyone follow you?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “I was careful. But Charles, we don’t have much time. They’re planning to move me to Moscow next week. This might be our last chance.”

Charles feels his stomach drop. “Moscow? No, we can’t let that happen. We have to get you out of there tonight.”

“How?” You ask, a note of desperation in your voice. “The security has been tightened since the last escape attempt. There are patrols everywhere.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing. “I have a contact in the American sector. He might be able to help. But Y/N, it’s risky. If we’re caught ...”

“I know,” you interrupt. “But I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be loyal to a system I despise. And I can’t bear to be separated from you any longer.”

His heart swells at your words. “I feel the same way. Okay, listen carefully. Meet me back here at midnight. Wear dark clothes and bring only what you can carry in a small bag. I’ll have everything else ready on this side.”

“Midnight,” you repeat. “I’ll be here. Charles ... I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says softly. “More than you could ever know. Be safe, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.”

As Charles turns to leave, he’s struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He’s had this feeling before when talking to you, as if your souls have known each other across lifetimes. Shaking off the strange thought, he hurries away to set the plan in motion.

The hours crawl by as Charles makes preparations. He meets with his American contact, secures false documents, and plots the safest route to the western sector. As night falls, he returns to the wall, his nerves on edge.

Midnight comes and goes. Charles waits, every muscle tense, straining to hear any sound from the other side. Five minutes pass. Then ten.

“Y/N?” He whispers urgently. “Are you there?”

Silence answers him. Charles feels panic rising in his chest. Something’s wrong.

Suddenly, the night is shattered by the sound of shouting and dogs barking. Floodlights blaze to life on the eastern side of the wall.

“No,” Charles breathes, horror washing over him. “Y/N!”

He presses himself against the wall, desperate to hear something, anything. The chaos on the other side grows louder. Then, cutting through it all, he hears your voice.

“Charles!” You cry out. “Charles, help me!”

Without thinking, Charles begins to climb the wall, heedless of the danger. He has to get to you, has to save you.

“Stop right there!” A gruff voice shouts in German. Charles freezes, realizing he’s been spotted by a guard on the western side.

“Please,” Charles begs in German, “You don’t understand. There’s someone over there who needs help. I have to-”

His words are cut off by the sharp crack of gunfire from the eastern side. Charles’ blood runs cold.

“Y/N!” He screams, no longer caring who hears him. “Y/N, answer me!”

But there’s no response. The night falls eerily quiet, broken only by the sound of hurried orders being given in Russian.

Charles slumps against the wall, his mind refusing to accept what his heart already knows. You’re gone. He was too late.

Hours pass in a blur. Charles remains by the wall, numb with grief and shock. As dawn breaks, he hears someone approaching from the western side.

“Mr. Leclerc?” A voice says softly. It’s his American contact. “I’m so sorry. We ... we heard what happened.”

Charles looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. “Tell me,” he says hoarsely.

The man sighs heavily. “She was caught trying to reach the wall. There was a struggle. The guards ... they didn’t hesitate to use lethal force.”

Each word is like a knife to Charles’ heart. “Did she suffer?” He asks, dreading the answer.

“It was quick,” the man assures him. “If it’s any consolation, our sources say her last words were about you. She said, ‘Tell Charles I’ll find him again. In this life or the next.’”

Charles closes his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Those words ... why do they sound so familiar?

“Mr. Leclerc,” the American says gently, “it’s not safe for you to stay here. We need to get you out of Berlin. There will be questions, investigations.”

But Charles barely hears him. His mind is reeling, flashes of memories — or are they dreams — flooding his consciousness. Ancient Rome, plague-ridden Genoa, revolutionary France, war-torn skies over the English Channel. In each scene, he sees your face, hears your voice promising to find each other again.

“This isn’t the end,” Charles murmurs, more to himself than to the confused American.

“I’m sorry?” The man asks.

Charles stands, a strange calm settling over him. “Nothing,” he says. “You’re right. We should go.”

As they walk away from the wall, Charles makes a silent vow. He will live, he will remember, and he will find you again. Somehow, somewhere, in another life, you will have your chance at happiness.

The Berlin Wall may have separated you in this life, but Charles is certain now that your souls are bound across lifetimes. And no wall, no war, no force on earth can keep you apart forever.

Abu Dhabi, 2025

The roar of engines fills the air as Charles crosses the finish line, clinching his first Formula 1 World Championship. The crowd erupts in cheers, but Charles barely hears them. His eyes scan the barriers, searching for one face among thousands.

As he brings his Ferrari to a stop, he sees you pushing through the throng of celebrating team members. Your eyes meet, and suddenly everything else fades away. Charles leaps from the car, not even bothering to remove his helmet as he runs towards you.

“We did it!” He shouts, sweeping you into his arms and spinning you around. “We actually did it!”

You laugh, tears of joy streaming down your face. “You did it, Charles! I’m so proud of you!”

He sets you down gently, finally removing his helmet. His hair is matted with sweat, his face flushed with exertion and excitement. To you, he’s never looked more handsome.

“No,” Charles says, cupping your face in his hands. “We did this together. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a passionate kiss. The world around you explodes with camera flashes and cheers, but neither of you notice. In this moment, you’re the only two people in the world.

As you finally break apart, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs. “In this life and-”

“And all the others,” you finish, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over you.

Charles pulls back slightly, his brow furrowed. “You feel it too, don’t you?” He asks. “Like we’ve said these words before?”

You nod, a bit dazed. “It’s strange. Sometimes when I look at you, I get flashes of ... I don’t know, other times, other places. But it’s always us, always together.”

A grin spreads across Charles’ face. “Maybe we’re soulmates,” he teases, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

“Charles! Y/N!” A voice calls out. You turn to see Fred Vasseur approaching. “Sorry to interrupt, but Charles has to get weighed.”

Charles nods, then turns back to you. “Wait for me?” He asks.

You smile, giving him a quick kiss. “Always,” you promise.

As Charles is whisked away for obligations, you find yourself lost in thought. The strange feeling of familiarity, of a love that transcends time, has been with you since the day you met Charles. You’ve never mentioned it to him before, afraid he’d think you were crazy.

The podium ceremony is a blur of champagne and cheers. Charles’ radiant smile never wavers as he hoists the trophy, but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd. When it’s finally over, he makes a beeline for you, ignoring the clamoring reporters.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, taking your hand.

You raise an eyebrow. “What about the press conference? The team celebrations?”

Charles shakes his head. “They can wait. Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Hand-in-hand, you sneak away from the track, laughing like teenagers as you dodge team members and journalists. Charles leads you to his car and soon you’re speeding down the winding roads of the Emirati capital.

“Where are we going?” You ask, the wind whipping through your hair.

Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ll see.”

As the sun begins to set, Charles pulls off onto a small dirt road. It leads to a secluded hilltop overlooking the valley below. The view is breathtaking, the entire landscape bathed in the warm glow of twilight.

“Charles,” you breathe, taking in the scene. “It’s beautiful.”

He comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Not as beautiful as you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You turn in his arms, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “What are we doing here, Charles?”

He takes a deep breath, suddenly looking nervous. “Y/N, do you remember the day we met?”

You smile at the memory. “Of course. I was lost in the paddock and you offered to help me find my way.”

“The moment I saw you,” Charles says softly, “it was like ... like coming home. Like I’d been searching for you my whole life without even knowing it.”

Your heart races as he continues. “And ever since then, I’ve had these ... dreams, I guess. Flashes of other lives, other times. But always with you.”

“Charles,” you whisper, hardly daring to believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve had them too. I thought I was going crazy.”

He shakes his head, a look of wonder on his face. “Not crazy. Just ... connected. In a way I can’t fully explain.”

Charles takes your hands in his, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your skin. “I don’t know if it’s past lives or parallel universes or just some cosmic coincidence. But I do know this: in every life, in every version of reality, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of this life, and all the ones that come after, loving you.”

Your breath catches as Charles drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, “will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision as you nod emphatically. “Yes,” you manage to choke out. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Charles’ face breaks into a radiant smile as he slips the ring onto your finger. He stands, pulling you into a kiss that feels like coming home and embarking on a new adventure all at once.

As you break apart, both of you laughing and crying, a sense of rightness settles over you. Whatever strange connection you share, whatever cosmic forces have brought you together time and time again, you know that this — right here, right now — is where you’re meant to be.

“I love you,” you say, looking into Charles’ eyes. “In this life and all the others.”

“And I love you,” he replies, holding you close. “Always and forever.”

The future stretches out before you, full of promise and possibility. And though you don’t know what challenges it might bring, you’re certain of one thing: whatever comes, you’ll face it together.

Just as you always have, and always will.

2K notes View Post

silcry

8 months ago

Epilogue: Dear Lord When I Get To Heaven Please Let Me Bring My Man (p. sh, l. hs)

banner credit: @simpjaes🩷

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

genre. I Would Give Up Heaven If I Had To.. AU, pwp, M/F, heavy on the angst in this one, fluff💀

warnings. morally grey characterizations(mostly Sunghoon), profanity, toxicity, sibling rivalry, mommy issues, daddy issues, anxiety/depression, Phantom of The Opera references, death, time jumps, pregnancy, no smut warnings *gasp*. minors DNI.

wc. 16.8k+

now playing. Young & Beautiful//Lana Del Rey

for @ncdeeh, the biggest fan of this series out there🖤

———————————-

Germany.

It feels like a movie when you arrive and get off of the train. Smoke blows around, different accents sing through the air, and your breath visibly shudders in front of your face.

Heeseung’s cheeks deepen with color, he insists on carrying your bags. He knows you’re still in some state of shock, too stunned by everything that has unraveled in the last 48 hours.

“The hotel my dad booked us isn’t too far from here, I’ll order a cab for us.” He nods, directing you to follow him.

Innate instinct takes over, it’s time for him to be a man. To embody the role his father has the past few years of his life. He needs to serve and protect you now, because would you really be running off if not for him? Is he not partially to be blamed for drastically altering your life?

“We’ll only be here for a couple of weeks, then we can head back to France if you want. My dad said he’d cover everything.” Heeseung is really trying to make this as easy as possible for you. Maybe he’s feeling more guilty than he anticipated, especially after seeing your solemn expression.

“Yesterday was so fucked up.” You barely mutter, throwing yourself onto the hotel bed. “Can’t believe I did that.”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” In fact, he’d prefer not to…

“I feel like such an awful person right now.”

You shouldn’t, given Sunghoon’s track record but this isn’t you. You would never go out of your way to use your body to manipulate and hurt someone this way..

“Don’t worry about it, alright? You don’t need to worry about me forgiving you. It’s like it never happened.” Heeseung grabs a hold of your hand, smiling softly. “Today’s a new day.”

Worry about forgiveness? Forgiveness for what. You contemplate asking, opening your mouth only to receive a gentle kiss. His lips pressed to yours with a tinge of fear. He’s afraid, probably as scared as you are.

“We need to talk Hee,” you shove at his shoulder, sitting back up. “About your mom, Jian, even Miyeon.. I don’t know, I feel so unsettled.”

“Whatever you want to know, I’m an open book for you.”

And you talked, for hours and hours. Ordered room service as you paced around the hotel room and delved deeper into his life. Picking up the small hints and marks of Sunghoon scattered throughout each memory and story. Late into the night you wore each other down to an empty bottle once full of emotions.

Heeseung cried, told you everything. How his mother offered him his first drink. He fought tooth and nail to make her stay home, to stop entering the local bars and waste her life away. She was never the same after the divorce, never explaining to him why or how it happened. She couldn’t after some time, couldn’t speak more than slurred speech, could barely keep her eyes open for longer than a few hours.

“My brother was jealous of that.” He nods, interlocking his fingers. “He has no idea that I was living through my own personal hell. I was living with a fragment of who my mother once was, by the end.. that wasn’t her. She would call me by my dad’s name a lot, yell at me, throw all types of insults at me.”

The more you listened, the more your heart broke. Sunghoon had no one, and Heeseung didn’t either. They could have at least had each other..

“My grandparents were too old, tired. Grandma was showing signs of early dementia and grandpa could hardly walk without hurting himself.” Heavy pain laces his tone, blinking back tears without looking at you. Not wanting to see the pity or hurt on your face for him. “Mom died in my arms, at the hospital. I didn’t want it to be real, sometimes the memory hits me out of nowhere and I feel so empty. I feel as useless as my dad says I am.”

There’s nothing to be said after he spills his soul wide open for you. Everything makes sense, the jealousy between him and Sunghoon. The unspoken truth that neither of them could even begin to see past their blind hatred for each other.

“He’s right, I should have done more.” Heeseung trembles, failing to fight his tears any longer. They roll down to his chin, shaking off with the chatter of his teeth. “I should have helped her somehow.”

“You were a kid.” You try to help, knowing this is above your capabilities. You hold him, clean his tears, scratch through his scalp, and he lets it all out. Every fear, every thought that plagues hik, the root of his pain that started the day his parents tore apart their family.

“I wanted to be above this, try to have a normal life when I moved back home to live with my dad.” He sighs, sinking deeper into your hold. “He hates me. Maybe I remind him too much of her.”

Even the richest of rich shouldn’t always have kids, even if they are more than able to afford to. Mr. Park clearly had a detachment from his sons, most especially Heeseung..

“I told you, he wanted me to ask Miyeon out first. I don’t know why Sunghoon took that bullet for me. I kind of hoped that it was because he doesn’t hate me, but after this..”

“I think if he knew everything, he would have never put you through all of this again Hee. Not that he deserves an excuse, but I want to believe your brother isn’t actually as evil as he wants us to perceive.”

“I hope he’s not.” Heeseung stares off into the void, sniffling. “If only because I still feel bad, that he grew up without us. Especially after living with my dad again, he’s such an emotionless prick.. it’s no wonder my brother always made fun of me when I’d cry. Moving back home without my mom was hard for me. I felt like a stranger in my own house, as if I didn’t belong there.”

Nothing can excuse Sunghoon’s behavior and actions of course, even if you questioned everyday what his experience was living alone with Mr. Park throughout his primitive years. How did all of that time without a motherly figure alter his life? The way he thinks? That stone cold heart of his you’d come to know.

How could the two of them be so different and yet the same. Heeseung who handled his feelings by expressing his emotion and pain, never scared to shed a tear. Who would lay his head on your lap and kindly ask you to hold him, to stroke his hair the way his mother used to. Who walks around with the open wound in his heart proudly displayed.

Sunghoon, for the little amount of time you had him in your life, he couldn’t do the same. Couldn’t bring himself to open up, to tell you how he really feels. He held back, masked his feelings with anger and harshness; a shield, really. He needed someone to be there for him, to help him understand himself..

And as you lived your life and settle into your loft in Paris, you slowly let those thoughts get to you. Each day he crossed your mind, and you shoved those thoughts down deeper, kicking dirt over the growing pile to keep them buried alive. You could not feel guilty nor sorry for him, or you’d break.

Many nights came and went by staring at his name in your list of contacts, blocked by his brother the day you got on a train to get away from him. You knew that reaching out to him would only lead to your demise, because maybe when Heeseung kisses you, you shut your eyes and can taste Sunghoon’s lips.

Maybe you have to bite down on your tongue to not moan his name. Maybe when you’re extra tired, you swear that your boyfriend resembles him too much, that you can almost picture him being the one walking through the front door of your loft.

Maybe you can’t stop yourself from imagining the other side of the coin, how everything could have gone if you had given Sunghoon a chance.

And despite how perfect your relationship has been, you can’t ward away those curiosities. Can’t fight your mind when you shut your eyes and begin to count the different beauty marks dotted around Sunghoon’s face.

You try to ignore those thoughts, to replace them with only new memories of Heeseung, but maybe you give up one day.

Maybe you allow the fantasy of what could have been to infiltrate your head, and maybe you enjoy it more than you are willing to admit.

———————————-

~one year later~

Three hundred and sixty-five days to be exact. But who’s keeping count?

Sunghoon is. He bought a physical calendar at the airport before flying back home with your mother and father.

That flight had really been excruciating for him. The one upside is that the seats next to him were originally reserved for you and his brother. He could at least wallow in his misery alone.

And he did, for a few hours at first. The long flight home spanned for over half of a day and time ticked by more slowly than usual. He tried to read, paid for the wifi to use and distracted himself with some games, browsed through the movies the airline had to offer. Nothing could stop his mind from racing, stuck in the idea of you.

Because that’s all this was right? The idea of you.

That idea that you could fix him, because maybe that’s what he wants. He wants to be fixed. Sunghoon knows all of his social problems, his dad didn’t pay for an overpriced therapist for nothing. After the divorce, he hadn’t handled the situation so great.

Mr. Park had never wanted to be a father, he was very successful straight out of university after earning his degree rather fast thanks to his own father’s name. Generational wealth had done its due diligence to breeze him through the educational system. The last thing he wanted was to share the money consistently expanding in his bank account with children and a wife. Not when he was having a blast playboying around from country to country on private jets, schmoozed and bribed with free luxury alcohol, grand dining experiences only ever allowed for the wealthy and famous.

His father, Sunghoon’s grandfather, had other plans in mind for him. That's where his mother came in. She was an intern at his grandfather’s company, a girl with a squeaky clean reputation. He set them up on a date, insisting that his son lock in a wife before he cut him out of his will. Growing tired and furious with each new headline of his son out and about partying with celebrities.

It was time for him to get serious. That's business, investors would take him more seriously as a family man as opposed to some messy international playboy.

So, he got married.

Was he in love? No, absolutely not. But then along came the birth of first son Heeseung and he had no choice but to accept his title as a wed father. This was his new life.

A miserable life of work, countless business trips, screaming baby cries keeping him up all throughout the night, and a nagging wife constantly accusing him of cheating.

Things were bleak compared to his world only a year prior, and then Sunghoon came along and everything only seemed to grow worse with time.

The boys—his boys, had no way of knowing and understanding their parents' unhappy marriage. They were given every toy, playset, console, and every shiny new expensive device on the market without question.

Sunghoon had always been closer to his mother given his father’s packed schedule. He loved her, always lit up and giggled when she’d pick him up from school and ask about his day. He can still remember the scent of her perfume, soft and sweet like a batch of fresh cookies. Her loving hands would pinch his cheeks, hoist him up onto her hip until he became too large to do so.

They’d chat for hours into the evening after school, all about his day, what activities he did in class. Any new friends he made, helping him to complete his homework. Heeseung would usually whine for dinner first, rubbing his stomach with big eyes directed at their mother. She really really never failed to show them how much she loved them both.

That’s what hurt and confused him the most for years after the last time he saw her. His father dragged him away from her at the airport, and he kicked, he screamed, he cried and threw a tantrum.

‘That is enough Sunghoon.’ His dad said to him firmly, gripping his shoulders and standing him back onto his feet. ‘No son of mine will embarrass this way.’

He was a kid, not even a teenager yet. Dealing with an explosion of raging hormones while losing his mom and brother. None of it seemed fair, and he cried, he cried for months, for over a year. Screamed at by his father in return, the only parent he had left to care for him. He would throw money at Sunghoon, tell him to wipe his face and go buy himself something to cheer up. That was always his answer to dealing with his overly emotional distressed son.

He tried to keep in touch with Heeseung, but his dad forbade it. Didn’t want him to be influenced by his siblings' new life or manipulated by whatever false narratives his mother would be likely to create.

After a good year of dropping his grades, teachers contacting his father full of concern, and a son that barely opened his mouth to speak, Mr. Park slid a pamphlet across the dinner table.

‘Therapy, son.’ He cleared his throat, setting down his fork to sip his glass of wine. ‘It’s high time you grow up and become a man. No son of mine will enter high school with below average grades. I have expectations of you.’

Therapy. That was his father’s next plan to fix his broken heart. To grant him emotional relief of all his pain.

It helped, at first, to understand why he feels what he feels. Why he acts out the way he does, why he hurts so deeply, why he can’t fathom having hope.

It worked until it didn’t.

Maybe Sunghoon had reached a certain point of maturity that snapped his mind out of his misery. Maybe he never let it go, maybe it became a part of him. One with his misery, embracing it and not allowing it to ruin his life anymore.

‘I don’t think I need this anymore.’ He told his therapist after two years with a thin smile on his face.

He tried to talk him out of canceling his future sessions, tried to explain that this was more beneficial for him than he realized but Sunghoon had opted for another form of therapy.

Years of being spoiled instead of nurtured and loved by his parents led him to sports. He took up weight training. Started to see his arms build muscle, the lines in his stomach grow deeper, his stamina strengthened.

His depressed thoughts lessened by the dayc more focused on how built and lean he could get. Visiting a trainer and nutritionist to change up his diet to nothing but protein to make him stronger, bigger, more intimidating.

His dad couldn’t call him weak anymore. In fact, Sunghoon hasn’t cried a day ever since he cut off his therapist. That damn croc of shit tried to get him on a prozac prescription, often spoke of stronger antidepressants.

He didn’t need any of that bullshit.

No.

Sunghoon knows exactly what he needs.

Three hundred and sixty-five days and he hasn’t missed one gym session. It’s the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up. Craves the burn in his muscle, the pain and soreness he experiences after. He needs to lick off the sweat that lines his upper lip, shake off any before it can reach his eyes and clump his dark eyelashes together.

He’s been working out like a maniac ever since that fucking family vacation. Spending countless hours in the basement gym his father and your mom never step foot inside of. They’re hardly ever home anyway, too busy frolicking around traveling the world in luxury.

He can’t complain, except for days such as today when he enters the kitchen to make himself a protein shake and his step-mother beams the largest smile at him.

“Sunghoon! Come say hi!”

“Oh mom, no please, I really have to go. I’ll be late for class!” The line cuts immediately after before he can even answer your mother.

It’s always the same, you always have to go. You’re busy, your connections bad, you have plans with Heeseung.

“Aw shoot.” Your mom sighs, closing her ipad. “Next time.” She gives him a wary smile on her way out of the kitchen.

There is no next time, you’ve successfully avoided him for a fucking year now. His brother never contacts him, the texts he tried to send you bounce back, his phone calls never go through. He tried at first to contact you somehow, emails, embarrassing phone calls attempted in the middle of the night when he knew you’d be awake given the time difference. Even fucking carrier pigeon would be a useless option.

You obviously want nothing to do with him. Both of your parents are too oblivious to understand the amount of effort his own fucking brother has made to avoid speaking with him. How neither if you ever ask about him, how he’s been, if he’s healthy.

Sometimes it hurts when he allows his mind to drift deep enough into those thoughts. That’s when he really takes it out on the gym punching bag. Lunging his shoulder so hard into it one day that he had to wear a sling for the rest of the week.

It’s times like this he wishes he could be anywhere but here. That he could get away and go back to a safe place that felt more like home than whatever this bullshit is. Days like this stir up old memories of his mother, how she would cradle him and read him bedtime stories. How she carefully held his hand while grocery shopping even though she had to bend at her waist to do so and strain her back.

How he never got to say goodbye to her. Has never even visited her grave. He never got answers, how could she so easily abandon one of her kids. Maybe she never loved him..

And now he asks himself different questions, about another woman he thought, perhaps even hoped, could love him. Was he a fool to believe that you might actually have feelings for him? Fuck if you didn’t play with his emotions and mess with his head enough.

He let you, he let you dog walk him like a fucking idiot. It hurts of course, especially when he’s laid in bed and can’t sleep a wink even after tiring himself out with some midnight cardio. He stares at the ceiling, ponders the time he spent with you. How much you changed and unraveled right before his eyes.

It’s not that he wants to have feelings for you. The truth is, he gave his father an ultimatum for the first time in his life. He’d finish school, collect his degree, and run whatever fucking sector his dad needed his face plastered across as the CEO. Young Sunghoon Park, the next generation of power.

But he did not want to continue his fraudulent relationship with Miyeon any longer, he refused to fall down that same path his dad had. To grow old with someone who only stayed with him by force.

Needless to say his father was disappointed, of course. The old man reprimanded him and argued about what a waste of time it’s been to build a relationship with Miyeon’s father to merge their companies. The real end goal was really to take down his competitors and buy them out, not merge shit. Sunghoon held his guard, he relented and stuck to his word.

He’d be his father’s working bitch, work harder than any asshole that graduated from Harvard and Yale, but the decision of his future wife would be his own. The one thing his dad could no longer have control over- the mother of his children, his partner, the woman he’d walk down the aisle towards.

He hadn’t thought too deeply on the matter until you came into his life and turned his world upside down.

He never felt an emotional tie to Miyeon even when they began dating. They tried at first, too young to comprehend why they were being made to meet up at Dave N Busters with limitless funds to play games all night and order as many fries as they could manage to eat. She had let him know real quick that he simply wasn’t her type.

‘Pretty boys like you do nothing for me.’

And if he was being honest, she didn’t quite spark his desires despite her good looks and charm. They got along better as friends and made a pact to continue on with their relationship to keep their parents equally satisfied.

‘My father keeps dragging me to these business ventures to meet his colleagues' sons. I need my weekends back.’

Their agreement worked out great for both of them. Sunghoon would use those alleged dates with Miyeon to hit up parties and clubs. He started to gain a reputation around campus for having a great body and an insatiable need to fuck like a beast. With his dad remaining none the wiser to his weekend escapades, he felt as if life couldn’t get any better.

And then you came along. You showed up and gummed up the works.

It’s hard to say if Heeseung really saw you first, not that he can stake claim off a look.. but Sunghoon knows that he wanted you first. It’s possible he had only planned to add you to the enormous growing list of girls he had conquered in just the past year. Maybe he just wanted to fuck you to say that he did. To soothe his raging ego with the knowledge that he can and will always get what he wants.

It was too easy really, you needed a tutor. And if Sunghoon knew how to do anything, it’s to pass a class with the highest scores and grades. He wasn’t valedictorian for nothing. Years of his father talking down to him about failing Physical Education of all classes after the split with his mother never allowed him to hit that low again. He studied and worked his ass off day and night to earn better grades, to be the teacher's favorite, to get a spot on the dean’s list.

Sunghoon hadn’t planned to keep fucking you. A few times maybe, for fun, to piss his dad off even if he never found out. But when he heard you inside of Heeseung’s bedroom..

When he saw the way the two of you looked at each other. When his older brother swept you away and off your feet cosplaying as some fucking humble prince to help you escape from an awkward first meeting with Miyeon; that—that pissed Sunghoon off.

Not Heeseung who also forgot about him for years, who got to live with the one parent they had that could give a fuck about either of them. That likely came home after school to home cooked meals. He’s sure their mother still brushed his hair even as a teenager. Still woke up the house on Sunday mornings loudly singing along to her favorite songs as a teenager. That motherfucker really had the audacity to portray himself as a saint in front of you.

And that truly made his blood boil. For a moment, no more than a few seconds.. he felt a tinge of jealousy.

Not only did Heeseung get to have their mother’s love in the end, but he was also going to have you.

Call him a monster for reacting the way that he did, but seeing his brother happy for the first time since he’d moved back in with their father; that made his blood pressure spike.

Why should Heeseung have it so fucking easy?! Why does everything work out for him?? Sunghoon’s sick of it, he’s been sick of that waste of space moping around the house. Taking up time in the living room playing his stupid fucking video games, never even bothering to ask him if he’d want to join him.

Not that he would, never wanting to hold a conversation with that moron he’s forced to call his sibling. His feelings may have been superficial, greedy and childish.. at first, but maybe that’s why he never fucked a random hook-up more than a handful of times. He never permitted himself to grow attached, to release those emotions that could weaken him. He tried so hard to protect the vulnerable shattered boy that grew without love, that he nearly forgot he even once existed.

That’s why this has hurt more than anything he’s felt in years. Because he hasn’t been able to feel. He hasn’t poured anything from his cup in so long that just one splash spilling out was enough to leave him empty.

He finds himself alone in the gym again. Glancing around at everything he’s left in place. The way his equipment shines thanks to the maids that clean up around here. How his mini-fridge stays stocked with energy drinks and electrolytes without him being required to lift a finger.

Easy. Such an easy life. Why would he ever want to leave this? Why would anyone.

Would you have ran off to Germany if not for him? Would you have stayed with Heeseung all of this time if he had just let you be? Thousands of questions with no answer swarm his thoughts when he zones out deep enough. A good vigorous workout can typically cure that, grunting through the burning pain that shoots up his back and arms.

Sweat pours and he twists side to side to spray the droplets away from his eyes. Too fearful of ever catching himself in the mirror again with any type of wetness rimmed so close to his iris. The one time he did had him dropping to his knees, scrubbing a small towel at his face until his skin turned an angry red and not one bit of sweat remained.

Crying is for weak little bitches like his older brother. Always crying to get his way instead of putting up a fight.

Hearing your voice today for only a few seconds, the line beeping when you ended the call.. the thought wrinkles his eyebrows, burns inside of his nostrils. Twitching his nose to make that feeling go away, that hallowing in his chest. Not even a year apart had softened you? These days of nothing, you weren’t at all curious?

Pain. Pain squeezed at his lungs. Subsiding it as over exerting himself by lifting weights that are too heavy. He drops them abruptly and goes to chug water. Dragging a towel across his forehead, leaving his hair sticking up in different directions.

Heartless, a heartless girl with no compassion. Unless his brother had really manipulated you to act this way.. he had his suspicions. That Heeseung had fucked you up as much as himself.. took advantage of the sweet soul he’d come to know. Refusing to believe that what you shared had meant nothing..

It certainly hadn’t meant nothing to Sunghoon. He tried to fuck other girls, even went on dates and forced a smile on his face through each boring one. He couldn’t forget you, everything around him led back to the memory of you.

Perhaps even who he wanted you to be for him.. and time and time again he failed to convince himself that this was your choice. That you chose his brother..

There was just no way.

Sunghoon came to workout to get away from his mind. To shut you off for an hour or so. He can’t deal with this right now. Why did you mom have to be on a video call with you right now?!

Stomping over to the ipad, he scrolls through different playlists in search of something to blast the echo of your voice away. Something obnoxiously loud to drown out his mind.

He should have hit shuffle and gone back to his reps. The universe couldn’t taunt him any harder as your name shows up in bold letters on the screen, recommending him a playlist you must have saved on here when you’d use his gym.

He would have deleted it by now if he had noticed, and he should. He should tap the screen to remove your shitty playlist for good. But he doesn’t, he hits play instead and the room floods with your screamy tortured emo crap. This woe is me wah wah wah music that you and his brother bonded over. Teenage angst at it’s finest as some grown man wails through his sound system and his hands fall limp to his sides. It’s the same shit he’d hear coming from your now unlived in bedroom. The muffled guitar from your headphones.

Why didn’t he just hit delete? Now he can’t stop his nostrils from flaring, his teeth gritting together, the tremble running down his forearms to his hands.

It’s been so long since Sunghoon last shed a tear. It happened last on that flight while he sat alone, about six hours up in the air. He put on some cheesy romcom movie to watch, fully expecting to fall asleep 10-15 minutes in. He should have chosen something else, of course he landed on some ridiculous movie with a love triangle plot.

‘I like you just the way you are.’

Sunghoon had to hit pause, fighting the tears filling up his eyes as he struggled to not blink. If he blinks, the one singular tear dangling near the corner will spill down his cheek. He’ll have shed an actual fucking tear.

Stupid fucking Bridget Jones Diary, he’ll never watch this crap again! Instead he shut off the movie and dabbed away the tear that managed to get past his cold will. No one saw that happen anyway, only he has to know that some sappy romance film brought him to tears.

That won’t happen again. Except that when he landed and finally got home, took a shower and laid in bed; he couldn’t stop thinking about that dumb movie. Who did Bridget fucking pick?!? She couldn’t have chosen that asshole Daniel Cleaver..

Not after Mark Darcy told her he liked her embarrassing ass just the way she is. He threw a fit that night learning that there was 3 Goddamn movies he’d have to get through to find out who this woman ends up with. Not a wink of sleep was had that night as he sat at his computer and found streams of each one go watch in order from start to end.

Sunghoon.. Sunghoon couldn’t stop repeating that line.

‘I like you just the way you are.’ What a load of shit..

Maybe his heart tightened and his pulse slowed down for a minute, everything on the plane went still, his ears popped, and he felt something he didn’t believe to be possible..

Love.

This has to be why girls watch this crap..

What he would give up to be liked just the way he is. That’s how you made him feel, accepted. You saw his darkness and still let him in. That cut him deeper than anything. Losing you to his brother hardly mattered compared to the thought that you accepted him, you liked him for exactly who he is without needing change..

“Stupid stupid stupid.” He slaps at his skull, crouching down by the speaker to tuck his chest into his knees and take shallow breaths. He chose to ignore these panic attacks and nights without sleep, lying to himself that he’s fine. He’s completely fine. That these unanswered questions and intrusive thoughts don’t consume him. That he doesn’t scream in the shower and punch at the tile out of anger, frustration and deep pain that he continues to shove down.

Taking a few minutes to shut off his kind and recuperate himself, he drags his weight up by gripping onto the speaker stand. Slamming his palm down to power off the machine before anymore of your playlist can shake the gym walls and stab the knife lodged in his chest even deeper.

He limps slowly to sit properly, patting around his sweats for his phone. Taking another minute to catch his breath he unlocks the device and searches through his contacts to make a phone call.

“Hello?”

“Yeah.” He licks at his dried lips, rubbing his chest to help his breathing return to normal.

“Sunghoon? What’s going on?”

“Miyeon, I need to see you.”

———————————-

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Sunghoon opens the front door wide for Miyeon, ushering her in toward the living room. His parents aren’t home meaning he won’t have to deal with his father’s pestering questions or wishes of them getting back together. That’s not why she’s here.

Miyeon’s as pretty as ever, her hair shines and bounces as she walks. The scent of sweet cotton candy trails behind her, and her mini-skirt flicks up with each step she takes ahead of him. She’s beautiful, she always has been, and still he feels nothing for her.

“Alright, what was so urgent that you needed me to weasel my way out of the annual tennis finals at the country club? My dad’s not happy.” She huffs, smirking and rolling her eyes. “Not that I’ve loved spending my summer paraded around a bunch of rich spoiled frat boys.”

“How’s your boyfriend?” Sunghoon asks, sitting down next to her.

“Sad, he misses me.” She pouts. “I miss him more.”

“And when will you tell your father about him?”

Miyeon’s lips tighten, hiding a grin. “When will you tell your father that you left me for your step-sister?”

Of course Sunghoon told her, he had to. He had to tell someone and in many ways, Miyeon may be his only friend. It wasn’t easy but he needed someone to understand, to reassure him that he’s not going insane.

‘You can’t possibly be losing your mind Hoon, you never had it to begin with.’

She wasn’t the best of help, but she listened, and she told him that he’s a freak. But a valid freak nonetheless.

“I can’t tell him.” Sunghoon nods, nervously playing with his hands. “Haven’t been on his good side ever since I told him that we broke things off. He’s been on my ass about internships and school. Nepotism must skip a generation.”

“You’re going to inherit his company, don’t be so crass. It’s unbecoming, tarnishing your cold stoic vampiresque image.” She teases, flicking his chin. “You’re definitely a shell of the man I knew. She did a real number on you.”

He hates that she’s right. He knows that his confidence has been rocked, his mind drowned beneath the thoughts he can’t escape. He wouldn’t even know how to keep his guard up anymore to block Miyeon’s sassy jabs. “I guess she did.”

“What is it, Hoon? You could have anyone. Why did it have to be your step-sister?” She crosses her legs, head tilted to the side observing him. All she needs now is a notepad and pen to tap her chin with. She should study to psychoanalyze, really.

“She could have been anyone.” Sunghoon agrees with that. Step-sister or not, he can’t pinpoint the exact reason you caused him to spiral. “But I like her.”

“Why? What’s so special about her?”

It’s not one thing, but a bit of everything. If he could really take away the superficial and shallow reasonings beyond you being his type physically, sexy and alluring, it would come down to the energy between you. The tension and heat. He often questions if that would fade with time once you stop fighting him. If you would ever stop fighting him even if he was able to call you his.

The back and forth with you really does turn him on not only sexually but emotionally. Awakening feelings he forgot could exist. Even now without contact, with no way to reach you, he feels that pull. He feels taunted and defeated, and it’s pitiful how much he loves it. He loves that between him and his brother, you may have been the victorious one after all.

“Would you judge me if I said I feel a connection to her?” He sighs, slumping into the couch seat. “That sounds stupid, right?”

“Not at all.” Miyeon shifts to look at him, offering a small smile. “Sounds normal. You’re crazy about her because it’s more than sex, if it wasn’t you wouldn’t still be hung up on her. A guy like you doesn’t have it hard, you wouldn’t even know what it is to struggle even if you were slapped across the face with it.”

“I have it hard.” He grumbles, glaring at her. “You know what I’ve been through.”

“No you don’t Hoon.” Miyeon laughs, pointing a finger at him. “You think that because your life hasn’t been perfect, everything hasn’t gone your way, that other people wouldn’t sell their soul to live the way you live? We’re so incredibly out of touch with the real human struggle, our biggest hassle is seeking love.”

“So what? I’m not worthy of love because I’m some fucking wealthy brat?” He snaps, getting angrier by the second.

“We’re all worthy of love. You’re just not used to having to try hard, to earn what you want..” Miyeon reaches for his hand, breaking his rage for a moment. “If you expect love, you have to give love. She’s not your mom, she’s probably just as scared as you are of all of this.”

“She loves my brother just fine.”

“From what you’ve told me, he loves her too. I didn’t know back then, but the way he rescued her from having dinner with us would have swept me off my feet.” She shrugs, frowning at him. “And do you know where he is now? In Paris, with her. He gave up his life for her.”

“Because he hates me.”

“Or because he loves her.”

Sunghoon’s mouth twitches, he refuses to believe that. Heeseung isn’t capable of loving anyone other than himself, he’s selfish..

“And you? You’re here, sitting on a couch talking to me as if I am your therapist.” Miyeon continues, cocking an eyebrow at him. “What’s your excuse?”

“What? I’m supposed to go to Paris and stalk her?!”

She shrugs, raising her hands and nodding. “How could that be any worse than everything else you have already done to her? Listen,” fully turning to face him, she grabs both of his hands. “You need to talk to her, tell her how you feel.”

“She won’t speak to me.”

“Don’t give her a choice.” Miyeon says, grimacing. “It’s not the best advice but you don’t have time for this anymore. You’ve been moping around for a year still hanging onto old memories of this girl. She may not even be the same person you felt a connection to anymore. Aren’t you tired of not knowing?”

“You think I should go to Paris? Corner her when she’s not with my brother?” A light flickers behind his eyes, staring ahead deep in thought.

“I didn’t say all of that but, you need to do what you need to do.. get your girl or lose her forever.”

She’s right, isn’t she? How could Sunghoon not realize this on his own? He thought giving you time, that you would come around on your own and realize how much he loves you. That he only did what he did because he wants you. That his brother would never compare to him..

“Poor girl.” Miyeon mumbles, smacking Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Don’t let your greed to win overshadow what you feel for her. Put her first, for once.”

Maybe he needs more friends, perhaps another opinion could have talked him out of this. His father couldn’t complain when he approached him with the idea of finishing up his company internship(aka bitch work) in France, given that he would be taking over the European sector of his father’s company.

So he packed his bags with nothing else planned. No place to call home, no thoughts other than finding you. The flight was long and lonely once again, but he made use of his time and brushed up on French, repeating key words and phrases he’d likely use often.

It was crazy, all of this has been crazy. Miyeon told him to not stress much on his outlandish behavior, it’s not as if falling for your step-sibling sounded normal to begin with.

And maybe, he could fall out of love. He could go on with his life without another thought of you, without another painful grip around his heart.

At least he hoped for an outcome close to that, of discarding his heartache. Of forgetting your name. But that couldn’t be the case.

No. He sat in the hotel lobby where he’d overheard you had taken on a summer job, and he saw you. He stayed by the corner, in the shadows, pretending to wait for his taxi driver's arrival. He watched you walk through the front doors, and he gasped. His chest caved in, his grip on the chair's arms tightened, and he leaned forward. He watched you move like slow motion, as if you were never real, and his stomach fluttered.

He knew right then this may never be over.

Maybe it’s for the best that only Miyeon knew of his plan. To lure you up to his suite and get you alone at your place of work. You can’t leave if he does that.. and sure, maybe it’s not the most ethical approach. Maybe it’s invasive and even deplorable, but what choice have you left him?

Phone number, blocked.

Emails, ignored.

Your living space? Shared with Heeseung.

How else is he supposed to get to you?

This makes sense, planning out a way to trap you alone in his suite with him. Sneaking up on you, showering you with outrageously expensive gifts, and getting on his knees to purpose.

Now Miyeon had not made that suggestion, but Sunghoon concluded no other statement could make it clear how serious he is about you. How much he wants to prove his love to you, that’s why he hopped off of his flight and immediately rushed to one of the most luxurious reputable jewelers in all of Paris. A fat diamond rock to adorn your finger would be the perfect way to express his love, right? It’s not as if he even knows your ring size, having to take a wild guess and make note to adjust it later if necessary.

Everything about this plan is very *him* if he thinks about it, and you should expect no less from him. He’s eccentric like that, always pulling something ridiculous. He’s sure you recall when he purchased that pearl necklace for you simply because you’d been admiring it. How else would he make a grand comeback into your life?

Maybe he is crazy, or maybe you made him crazy. He smiled as he spoke to you, his palms grew sweatier the more his pocket weighed down with the leather box encasing your future engagement ring. The gloves were a real nice touch to not leave any of his grubby fingerprint marks on the silver band, nothing to ruin how pretty the ring would beam from your ring finger. You didn’t seem to like the gloves, but ah well..

‘I won’t give up on what my heart believes is real.’

He couldn’t believe the words leaving his lips, really. Could hardly hold himself together with how loud chest was pounding.

‘Please, say yes.’ He begged, and his tongue felt so heavy dragging through his pleading. The backs of his eyes burned, his stomach churned, his knees trembled on the ground. If not for the cool breeze of air conditioning swarming through the hotel room, he’s sure he’d be sweating enough to soak through his suit.

It’s been so long since he’s touched you, since he’s seen your eyes focused on him, since he’s held you. Nervous hands clutch at your waist and bring you to stand. The look of awe and disbelief written across your face fills his chest with warmth. This could be worth all of his waiting and suffering, if you open your mouth and say that one word that can bring you together again.

“No!” A firm slap flies across his cheek. Snapping his neck to the side and nearly dislodging his jaw, he blinks for a minute to regain himself. Shifting his mouth muscles around to stop the lower half of his face from going numb.

More than the pain scorching through his face, he couldn’t turn off the ringing going off between his ears.

NO?!?!?!??!

Sunghoon’s cheek burns, his chest muscles twitch, and a searing pain erupts in his heart. He can feel it this time, no denying that his heart is literally in severe pain, causing him to reach for the area. He turns to glare at you, dropping the box with the ring from his grip.

“What is wrong with you! You come here, to my job!!” You shout, shoving at his abdomen. “And you fucking ask me to marry you?!? Are you insane! Are you God damn kidding me! You can’t be this crazy, you just can’t be!”

He hears you, he does, but not really. Because the pain in his chest blooms, he steps back with each shove you deliver, and more of his internal hurt spreads. The butterflies flapping inside of his stomach lose their wings, they collapse to their death and he grabs a hold of your wrists before you can push him away again.

“You left me.”

It’s hard to look at him, harder to hear his voice. To feel his large hands wrapped around your delicate wrists. It’s harder to look away and find the ring by your feed, the ring he seriously thought you’d accept and wear on your finger? That you’d say yes?

“I was never with you.”

“Tell me,” he swallows, lifting your arms up and crossing them over your chest. Holding you in place. “Tell me that I mean nothing to you then. Let me fucking move on and forget about me, let me go.”

“Sunghoon.”

“No.” He grits, bottom lip trembling. “You don’t get to do this. You want to be with my brother? Then fine, go fucking be with him. But at least let me go.”

“This was all in your head.” You struggle to rip out of his hold, shaking yourself away. “Y-you think you can have whatever you want because of daddy’s money. You can’t have me just because you stomp and jump around like a bra—“

He should have known you wouldn’t give him a clear answer, you’re too weak for him to deny him. He’s too weak to stay away from you. So he cuts you off with a firm kiss, slotting his lips between yours. He’s been craving, dreaming of this kiss for months, to savor your taste once more.

There’s no push or pull, only tension leaving your body as his soft pout moves against yours and he takes a step closer until the backs of your knees hit the hotel bed.

He deserves this kiss and some, more than anything. For waiting, for staying patient and not losing the little bit of his mind he still has left. A shudder runs up his spine when he drops his hands to your waist and squeezes you, pulling your chest to his. You feel right against him, smell so good, and your lips couldn’t be more heavenly.

Slowly blinking his eyes open, he takes a few seconds to linger by your lips and take in your softened features. The dreamy look that’s taken over your face. The breaths that fan across his mouth heavier than before. He knows in this moment that you’ll never let him go, because he won’t let you.

“Y-you shouldn’t have done that.” You stammer, reaching for his hands on you. “Think you can just come back into my life and mess everything up again?!”

“Yes, I mean, no.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head in disagreement. “I’m not here to mess up anything, I’m here to make this right.”

“There’s nothing to make right.” Loosening his hold on your waist, you manage to move around him. “I have to get back to work, please do not follow me.”

“Please.” He knows he sounds pathetic, reaching for your hand to stop you from leaving. He drags along with you toward the suite entrance without letting go. Stopping when you do and your shoulders slump, letting out a long-winded sigh.

“What do you want from me?”

“A chance.” He says confidently, interlacing his fingers with yours. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it when we’re together. Call me insane and crazy all that you want, but I know what passes between us isn’t nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter—“

“No, it does though.” Sunghoon cuts you off, using your moment of surprise to loop his arms around your waist again. “Because I’m here, I came here for you. I will not leave until you give me a chance.”

“A chance? I don’t understand, I can’t even begin to understand why you’re still trying. Why won’t you give up?!”

He knows that nothing he says to you will make sense, that even if he admitted how his feelings began to develop you may not like his full explanation. “I’m a lot of things, I’m sure you’re aware. I’m nowhere near perfect, and I haven’t shown you anything impressive really. If you deemed me a monster, I couldn’t argue with that.” He nods, rubbing up and down your sides. “But when it comes to you, I really do believe that you like me despite all of that. I—“ he stutters for a second, looking away to recompose himself. The same rush of heat he loathes finds the backs of his eyes. He can’t cry, not now.

“I think we get each other, you’re scared.” Clearing his throat, he eyes your face for any change in expression. “I’m scared. I’ve been scared. Terrified of how strongly I feel about you. I’m done being afraid.”

“And what do you think I’m scared of?” You ask sternly, tilting your chin up.

“Me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m a monster.” That’s who he is to you. He’s the evil brother, the one with malicious intent. Spoiled rotten, crazy enough to do just about anything. He knows what you’ve built him up as in your mind, good or bad, there’s too much to repair and no amount of love you may harbor for him can do the job. If it could, you would have said yes. “That’s what you think of me, right?”

“No, Sunghoon.” You whisper, freeing yourself from his hold yet again. “I prefer to not think of you.”

“Why? Why is that?” He questions quickly, moving around you to barricade the door to exit. “Why are you pretending that I don’t exist? That none of this mattered to you.”

An air of defeat settles over you, dropping your head back with a sigh. You shrug and glare at him, unable to stop your gaze from roaming down, back up, and down again to take in how much more masculine and mature he’s become in just a year. Physically, and obviously emotionally. “Do you want me to tell you that I once had feelings for you? That I felt so guilty for months after leaving you alone in that hotel room. That I beat myself up over it, for feeling bad in the first place. I couldn’t even figure out how to feel, if you even deserved my sympathy after what you did.”

“Did you feel bad? For trying to break my heart?”

“No.” Pressing your lips into a thin line, you blink fast to push down the moisture finding its way to your eyes. Confused and annoyed by the look of disbelief that crosses his face, you clench your fists. “My heart let go of the idea of you after I found out about what you did to your brother. You played in my face and tried to manipulate me, I’m not even sure I know who you really are.”

Sunghoon has to fight to not roll his eyes, resting his back against the door he crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m exactly who I’ve shown you, never seemed to be a problem before.”

“Are you? Are you the same nice guy that took me to the Vatican? Or are you that asshole that threatened me in your bedroom?”

“Both.” He shrugs, pushing off the door to get in your face. “Tell me that you didn’t love both, that you didn’t like it when I fucked you the way you deserved.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to handle the truth if I told you what I loved most.”

Sunghoon squints, licking the backs of his teeth with a hint of annoyance flickering across his face. He shakes his head and scoffs under his breath. “Don’t start.”

“Why? Because you hate to accept that side of yourself? That you can actually feel basic human emotion?” You ask brazenly, reaching for his jaw to drag one of your digits down. “That this sharp cold image is just a facade to hide how broken you really are?”

His neck twists away, snapping his face away from your touch. “Whatever bullshit my brother has told you is a lie. He doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know shit about what I went through.”

“He hasn’t told me much, only what I asked. I know about Miyeon.”

“Pfft,” rolling his eyes, he sets his jaw tight and pins you in place with a furious look. “What about her? I already told you, we broke it off. We never had a real relationship.”

“I know.” Softening your expression, you reach for one of his hands. Not too surprised when he allows you to lace your fingers between his. “I know about that, how your father wanted Heeseung to date her first. And I know that despite everything you’ve pulled, you still have love for your brother.”

Sunghoon lifts your hands, turning from yours to his to admire the size difference between you. How you perfectly fit against his palm, and how much nicer hand would look with a gorgeous ring on your finger. “Even if I did, it’s not enough to stop me from getting what I want. No amount of love for him or my father can stop me anymore, you do realize that, don’t you?”

“I think you’re looking for someone that I am not.” You frown, pulling your hand away. “I’m not the girl that can erase your past or heal you..”

“I don’t need to be healed.” Cupping your face, his thumbs stroke over your cheeks. Eyes dropping shut for a moment as he contemplates kissing you again. He knows better now, than you won’t listen to him if he tries to capture your lips again. “I just need you.”

“No, Hoon..” you sigh, lightly squeezing his wrists. “You’re in pain, whether you understand that or not. And it’s beyond me, above what I am capable of helping you deal with.”

Sunghoon’s fingers tremble against your jaw, slowly dragging his hands down to your throat. “Is my pain all that I am to you?”

“No, but.. I don’t know if your pain is something that I’m ready to handle.”

Dropping his hands, he takes a step back away from you. No longer standing before the door, leaving you with a clear escape. “Yet.”

Perhaps he’s right, maybe it’s hope, delusion, something along that route. But you can’t find it in yourself to deny him. Only stiffly nodding your head as you make your way to leave the suite. He stops you one more time, licking his pink lips.

“Don’t leave me this way, after all of this. After a year of replaying every memory I have with you.” He says desperately, blinking away tears he’d never allow to pour down in front of you.

“What do you want from me?” You ask nearly as pitifully, fearing how much longer you can stand being around him. Your resolve can only stay so strong, even if you won’t admit that the memories of him have never once left your mind.

“A kiss.”

“I’m with your brother.”

“One kiss.”

“One kiss and you’ll let me go back to work?” You ask hesitantly, already sensing thick tension building up around you. There’s nothing to stop you from opening the door and walking out, except Sunghoon could grab you.. and knowing him he would. He’d keep you holed up in here for another hour until you crack under his pressure and give into him. That’d be the worst case scenario, knowing in the back of your mind that you’d absolutely succumb to him if you stay in here alone with him much longer.

A small smile plays on his lips, nodding shortly. “One kiss and you’re free to leave.”

“But am I free of you?”

“No promises.” Sunghoon doesn’t bother to ease into the kiss. Making the first move to cup your face. He presses in, leaning his head in to align your lips.

This kiss that he’s allowed to run rampant in his mind. This kiss that he’s craved for, pictured all of the different ways it would go. How you’d run into his arms, and he’d scoop you up. Maybe even some rain would fall from the sky, because surely even the Gods of the universe had to rejoice in this moment.

Only this is nothing as he dreamt of, this is better.

This is real. The barely there breathy moan that escapes your throat. The heat radiating from your mouth to his. The soft plush of your lips applying pressure against his as you kiss back. And you do kiss back, allowing the tip of his tongue to skim across the seam of your lips. He boldly takes the chance to push in more, eyebrows raised as your mouth parts open around him.

This kiss is more passionate, more intense, blooming life between his thighs. He feels mad once his tongue makes it past your lips, and he licks the roof of your mouth. Licks through the crevices, laps at your tongue. He can’t get enough, moaning as the taste of your saliva meets the back of his throat. He needs more, needs to know how swollen your pretty mouth can get if he keeps going. Pulling back his tongue and slurping, he latches onto your bottom lip. Sucking the plump juiciness between his, biting down harder than intended.

Excitement builds fast, rushing through him at light speed and his hands. His hands slide down, they land at your chest, teasing the buttons of your blouse. And just like that your lips are gone, leaving him puckered up midair. Dreamily blinking open his glazed over eyes.

“H-huh?”

The sight of the back of your hand dragging across your mouth is the first thing he sees. Drawing yourself away from him with a firm nod. You hold out a finger toward him and make your way to the door. “Stay right there.”

Sunghoon can’t ignore the way his chest swoops down to his stomach. His groin aches and throbs. Fuck if it isn’t taking every bit of his restraint to stop himself from chasing after you only to slam your back against that door before you can go anywhere. With clenched fists he listens to you, gritting his teeth.

“Will you allow me to call you now?”

“No.”

Sunghoon chuckles sarcastically to mask his pain. Having to hold himself up by clutching onto the entrance table. Practically knocked off of his feet after getting a small taste of you. “I figured as much. Well I always have your address.”

“Hoon.”

“What?” He acts stupid, blinking dumbly with a shit-eating grin. All of this is fake, an act to keep his tears under control.

“Do not show up at my home.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, that’s not my style..” he motions around himself. Indicating that he’d much rather track you down at work where he can at least enjoy a luxurious hotel suite. “I’ll be writing to you.”

“Writing??”

“Letters.” He nods surely, playing with the door handle. “I hope you’ll read them.”

Giving him a suspicious eye, you shake your head and begin to turn around to head back to your manager’s office. Scoffing and muttering under your breath. “Whatever.”

“Don’t be a stranger! Alright?” He calls out from behind you. Sighing to himself and dragging two digits across his bottom lip.

Maybe you didn’t say yes, and sure, you didn’t seem as excited to see him after an entire year as he had hoped for; but one kiss held more than hope. Confirming that you still want him, still think about him. He’d cherish that kiss until you come around and finally accept to let him in. It’s not as if you’ve kicked him out, yet..

———————————-

‘I remember my first time in Paris, I thought to myself city of love? And wondered if I simply did not understand what love must really feel like. Dad had brought me along for a company trip, he wanted me to meet some investors, get my face recognized before I joined his side someday. I watched these old fat bastards chain smoke all night, rave about Parisian women dancing topless at Crazy Horse, drink as if tomorrow would never come. I felt no sense of love, only disgust as I sat there amidst wealth being mindlessly thrown around.

And now I sit here in the city of love, and I sip on cappuccinos every early morning. I order the same flaky butter croissant from this adorable quaint café near my hotel. I take my time to people watch, relax and soak in the morning sun that has just risen, and I think of you. I think of love.’

He really did write you letters. Every week a new one would come in, addressed from one of your favorite aunts. The first to arrive initially had you excited, hoping she had shoved in a few hundred dollar bills after hearing that you’d been working. Maybe your mother had informed her that she hadn’t been transferring you quite as much anymore. The last thing you anticipated was a handwritten letter from Sunghoon.

Choking on your coffee as you began to read, you cleared your throat and peered around for Heeseung’s presence. Thankfully, he was too deep into his game to notice your wide eyes and the paper in your hand. Sunghoon had really sent you a Goddamn letter.. pen and paper.. what a fool.

You tried to hold back a smile as you continued to read upon realizing this was no mail sent from your beloved aunt.

‘I think about you and how nice it would be to wake up by your side. To share my morning coffee with you, to cut a croissant for you. To simply take a stroll before I head into work and hold your hand. How much I’d love to see your face glow under this sunrise. I’d buy you flowers from the local vendors, take you on shopping sprees every weekend. We’d be regulars at the opera house, try out all the fine dining Paris has to offer. And when we’re up to it, we could go to the South of France, take the train out to Sweden, Denmark, wherever you wish to visit. That must be love, to enjoy and live through this life with someone who fills your heart.

-SH’

Thousands of feelings swarm around your head as you fold up the paper and tuck it into your pocket. Already planning to stuff it away inside of the jewelry box you only ever open to look at, to remember.

“Babe, did you check out any of those listings I emailed you?” Heeseung calls out, not moving his eyes away from the computer screen. He leans in too close, jabbing at his keyboard. “Found some really good plots of land and houses that could benefit from a lot of refurbishing in Seattle. I think you’d really like the area.”

It’s been a couple of weeks now since your anniversary, since Sunghoon’s unwelcomed arrival back into your life. You never mentioned your night time visitor at work to your boyfriend, maybe out of fear. Worry and guilt as to how he would react knowing that his younger brother’s booked a suite at your place of work..

Heeseung likely wouldn’t have taken the news well, given your past and how sensitive the topic of his brother always is. You don’t walk on eggshells anytime he’s even alluded to in conversation for nothing.

“Uhm, no, haven’t had time, baby. You know work has been so crazy. Peak tourist season and all.”

You’re not lying, work has been slammed. You’ve come home night after night completely exhausted. Also tense from looking over your shoulder, afraid and hopeful of the possibility to see a familiar face. It’s not that you want to see him, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. You’re curious more than anything.. if he’d rear around the corner. If he’d try to bother you while working, what his next step could be..

It’s better this way. Keeping Heeseung clueless to his brother's current location, avoid any possible altercations, and there’s of course no need to mention the kiss. It didn’t mean anything.. you just needed a way out.

“Babe, our lease here ends in a few months. I really want to start planning for the move back.”

This has been happening nonstop for the last week. Even when you’re fucking he brings up moving, rubbing your stomach and mumbling about having kids. Reassuring you that he’ll land a high-paying job once you move. It’s a near guarantee thanks to his last name and father’s connections..

“We could go month to month..” you mumble, pretending to clean up around the kitchen. “You know, if we can’t find a place we agree on.”

The sound of his game pausing fills your living space in silence. Slowly turning to look at you, he tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “But then we’d be here even longer, and I thought—“

“I don’t want to move.” You should have let him know immediately. But impending fear of losing him kept you quiet. Nodding and agreeing to whatever he said as you went on ignoring his texts and emails about moving. Skirted around the subject whenever he brought it up again. Yawned and waved off the conversation in favor of getting to sleep, or taking a shower, anything to make him stop until he came to the realization on his own.

“You don’t want to move?..” moving to stand, he slowly walks over to you. Lips pulled down in a frown. “But I thought we were planning our future—“

“You.” Interrupting him, you anxiously ring your hands together. Knocking your nail beds against each other. “You were planning..”

“Are you—“ he breathes shallowly, reaching for his chest. “B-breaking up with me??”

“No! Hee, no! Not at all!” You fret, running around the kitchen island to grab his arms. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this! I don’t want you to be upset!”

“So, you lied to me?” He sighs, head dropping. “You never wanted to move?”

“I didn’t lie.. I never told you that I wanted to move.”

“Then, then—why? Why not?” He sounds genuinely confused, tearing your heart apart. You tried to avoid this, didn’t want to have to ruin the peaceful relationship you’ve become accustomed to, too comfortable with.

“I love living here, in Paris..”

“But it’s—we always complain about so many things! The sewer system, how fast the groceries go bad, the lack of convenient transportation!”

“You, you complain about those things.” Rubbing his arms up and down, you trail down to place your hands in his. “I’m sorry for not being honest. I don’t want you to leave me..”

Heeseung looks as overwhelmed as you feel, forehead wrinkled, lips tightened into a thin line. He sighs and shakes his head, pulling you into a hug. It’s not that you couldn’t make it work.. a long distance type of relationship, but for how long?

There’s a chance you could wake up one day tired of this, missing your life back in the states. But there’s a higher chance you’ll regret letting him slip from your arms to start a new life without you in America.

Silence and a tight hug consumes you for the next hour. Calming each other with soothing rubs up and down each other’s backs.

“Now I feel bad, like I’ve been pressuring you..” he mumbles into your shoulder. Squeezing you closer to his front. “God I feel like such a dick.”

“It’s my fault, seriously. You have nothing to feel bad about.”

No. The only one who should feel bad is you. Giggling over some stupid letter that you should have tore up once you realized who it came from. You should feel bad whenever you’re by yourself, when your boyfriends at work, when you lock yourself in the bathroom alone; and you think about him. Replaying the kiss, the touch of his hands on you, the desperation in his voice. You’re the worst girlfriend, undeserving of a man as good as Heeseung.

“We don’t have to keep talking about this. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Pulling away to look at you, he really tries to force a smile to comfort you. “I was getting home sick, I don’t know.. it was stupid.”

“Not stupid.” You say apologetically. Sorry for things he’s not even aware of..

The rest of the day goes by awkwardly, needless to say. As much as you both continue to assure each other that everything’s okay, and everything will be okay; you know that everything has changed.

Heeseung drops the topic of moving for the next few weeks, and he tries, he tries so hard to be the best boyfriend to you. Only setting in what a piece of shit you really are for holding him back, for keeping him here with you for your own selfish reasons.

He’s your first love and the thought of losing him keeps you up at night. Staring blankly out into nothing as you quietly debate with yourself over and over again. Weighing out the pros and cons of moving, of giving up your dreams to satisfy his.

And through your inner turmoil, the letters continue to come. Never questioned by your boyfriend when you explain that your favorite aunt once lived in Paris when she was about your age. You’ve become pen pals sort of, sharing your experiences back and forth.

Another lie.

‘I told my French instructor about you, or well, perhaps I fibbed a little. Told him that I moved here for my girlfriend. She loves Paris, enchanted with the city. He’s really helped me out to improve the little bit of French I had learned back in high school.

There’s this saying he spoke of when I told him about us.

Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point

It means: The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.

Again, I think of you, I think of my heart when it comes to you. The reasons I think that I love you, how they run so deep that I am not sure I will ever begin to understand how we ended up here..

I hope you are well, and that someday you will understand that love is not one dimensional. Our hearts are stronger than we realize. Love you.

-SH’

These letters, they could be another way to manipulate you. Going on two months now, he sends one every week sharing tidbits of his life here in Paris. How lonely it is, how he’s used to being alone, and how even though you are not with him—he is with you.

And then he writes about her, and you have to ask yourself how far Sunghoon’s willing to go to mess with your head. How much of himself is he willing to open up and spill out for you. He claims to love you, shouldn’t he pour himself empty for you?

‘My mom passed away September 26th. The days coming up again. I don’t talk much about her, I know. I am sure my brother has told you enough, how I bawled my eyes out everyday as a child. How much I hurt all by myself. Maybe it’s true that people like me are some of the loneliest.

Someone like me who seems to have it all. That’s what a lot of the employees under me now say behind my back. I hear them, I listen to their snickering words. To their quiet whispers when I arrive and walk through to my office without acknowledging their feeble existences. They think I’m a fucking dick, they’re probably right.

I don’t blame everything on my mother. I pity her the same way I pity my brother. Both too weak to handle their emotions in a way that doesn’t ruin others lives.

You told me I have love for my brother, that I don’t hate him, and you’re right. I don’t know how you read me so easily, but you do. It drives me crazy, the way you make me feel seen. I go through life with all these eyes on me, but none of them really see me. None of them are actually looking at me.

Ah, I am speaking nonsense, aren’t I? You probably haven’t read a single one of these. Maybe I’m starting to lose my last attachment to this fleeting hope. Not that this hasn’t been worth everything to me. To be able to see you again even if just once, to taste you one last time. I can’t believe I allowed love in only for it to hurt me.

I wouldn’t take any of this back. I don’t believe I have ever let go of myself this much, the invisible armor I keep up. Thanks to you, I have learned to bring down my defenses.. I really do hate that.

Talk soon, I hope.

-SH’

Each letter dug a deeper hole inside of your chest. Sunghoon never gave you a return address, both of you know there were more than enough ways to reach him. You know exactly where his father’s company is located, his email, his phone number that remains blocked.

He poured more and more of himself into each one. And as much as it pained you to read, you felt the same butterflies or excitement each time another letter arrived in the mail. Hiding yourself at your computer desk to read every new one, muttering to Heeseung that you had some work to wrap up.

This couldn’t qualify as cheating if you remained contactless on your side, right? Not that repeating that to yourself helped any with the guilt that continued to suffocate you.

If only you could run to your mother with this problem, let out all of your anguish. How much you’ve been stretched apart by these two men. How they’ve split you down the middle and made you forget yourself.

If they weren’t your step-brothers she’d likely soar to the fucking moon after hearing news of your rapturous love life. Not even your mother had enough faith in you to believe that two Park men could possibly be battling to a bloody pulp to claim you as theirs and only theirs.

As fast as fall came, so did the crushing weight of reality.

Heeseung’s smile rarely graced your days anymore. His laughter hardly filled your loft. And the uneasy strain between you never subsided. His sadness was hard to ignore and trying to only made you feel worse, guiltier, like such a terrible person.

“Hee, I checked out some of those locations you sent me before.” You mention over dinner. Feeling extra tense after reading another new letter from Sunghoon.

He’s officially moved into Paris, no longer residing at a hotel. His writing was full of excitement this time, cheering happily about finding a place. Insisting you come visit him one day to at least compliment him for hiring a fantastic realtor and scoring a decently priced house with a perfect view of the Eiffel tower. Decently priced for a millionaire, of course.

“Huh?” Heeseung asks, half paying attention. Half distracted by a game on his phone.

“Seattle, right? It’s nice and cold out there..”

Nothing like a humid sunny summer day in Paris, no..

“Wh-what? I thought you didn’t want to move.”

You don’t. At all.

“Worth looking at.” You shrug, biting down on your lip nervously.

It’s not actually, and you’re being tortured by your own subconscious that won’t shut up about this. It’s all you can think about even while you fuck and have great sex. Heeseung’s accepting a future he doesn’t desire for you. And you? You’re greedy, selfish, benefiting off of his pain to fulfill your needs and dreams..

“You don’t want to leave Paris.” He nods firmly, reaching across the table for your hand. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

All you seem to do these days is lie. Lie after lie, failing to convince yourself that you only choose to lie to protect him.

You have to lie, because worse than losing him, you’d hate to be another person that’s let him down. Another comparison to his mother, father, brother, all those who have failed him before you..

“I don’t.” You struggle to say, throat welling up with tears. “But I’m scared. What does this mean for us?”

“N-nothing, I—“

“You’re unhappy.” Saying those words out loud rush tears to brim your eyes. Blinking the first batch out, they scold your cheeks on their way down. “You don’t like it here, you’re only here because of me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” He appeals, sitting up. The game on his phone forgotten about. “I love you, I want to be wherever you are.”

“I know.” Sniffling, you squeeze his hand. Getting up to sit down on his lap and wrap yourself around him. “I love you, and I don’t want you to choose a life that was never meant for you.”

I’ve put you through so much Heeseung. That’s what you wish you could bring yourself to say. That you released his inner demons, went behind his back, selfishly expected him to fix all of your fucked up life himself..

“We can make this work, can’t we?” Heeseung’s first cry makes your heart sink. Clutching onto him, burying your fingers through his hair. You don’t want to ever let go, don’t want to accept the reality of your situation. That he may just be your very first heartbreak.

“Of course we can, baby.”

Lying isn’t always a bad thing, right? Sometimes we lie to spare others feelings. Like when your mother lied to you about cheating on your father, she knew you’d figure everything out in time. But you were too young to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. She lied so that you wouldn’t hate her or blame her. You lied for the same reasons..

By October, Heeseung had packed up his belongings. The two of you agreed that this wouldn’t be permanent, only until you finish up school and get at least a year’s experience of work. After that was all done, you could revisit the whole moving back to America conversation. Of course you cried and suffered in silence, keeping yourself as calm as you could around him as the days went by. The second you locked the bathroom door to shower, tears would find their way out. You’d sob and cry into your palm. Hoping the shower was louder than your aching chest to drown out the sound of your sadness.

Your mother only side-eyed you when you begged her to not make Sunghoon aware of Heeseung’s departure back to the states. She didn’t pry too much, only clicked her tongue disappointed by the lack of a close relationship you had with her preferred brother.

The goodbye before Heeseung got on the plane to leave you spiraled you into a depressive state for weeks. Only forcing yourself to appear normal when he’d video call you appearing equally miserable. This was the promise you made to each other, to keep your relationship alive. Update each other daily, phone calls, scheduled video chats, texts throughout your days, photos, anything.

And that worked, at first. Even forcing you both to learn how to get each other off in new ways. Video calls often turned steamy, positioning your cameras to enjoy the view of your private areas as you touched yourselves and moaned. Of course, it was never enough and you’d crawl into the bed he shared with you only 3 weeks ago to cry yourself to sleep

“This was for the best.” That’s what you continued to tell yourself. He was miserable here, already back to smiling big as he used to whenever he answers another video call from you. He’s doing better mentally despite missing your warmth by his side, and that’s what matters.

If you love something, let it go, right?

That’s what Sunghoon did.

Sunghoon.

His letters have piled up, the fourth one coming in today. You stare at them stacked on your kitchen counter sometimes. Trembling hands tempted to open each and swallow down each word like a crisp sip of wine.

They felt similar. Addicting, butter, sweet, euphoric. To be let inside of someone that not many, if any, have ever been able to know so well.

Maybe this was the right decision for you and Heeseung, as much as it ripped you to shreds to go through with. He once gave up the only life he’d ever known for you, and here you are.. only giving him up.

There are times you listen to the sound of your heart beating only to make sure it’s there. You’re not a heartless monster for choosing yourself first. Neither of your parents were pleased with this news, especially your mother who has been urging you to move and follow along with your step-brother.

‘At least Sunghoon lives out there now too. I don’t understand you kids, Europe is great for vacation.’

She also pestered you to contact him, to not forget that he is also your step-sibling. That you also should build a healthy strong relationship with him as he will be the one to likely inherit all of Mr. Park’s wealth when his time comes.

‘Heeseung’s wonderful, I was wrong about him.’ She mindlessly chatted with you, holding a yogurt covered spoon by her mouth. ‘I’m so grateful that he took all of that time to look out for you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he had a crush on you or some type of liking.’

She giggled over the silly idea, finishing her yogurt and ending the call. Not before scolding you to text Sunghoon.

You wouldn’t. Instead, you shoved his unopened letters inside of a drawer and decided to attend your job’s annual Halloween ball. Something that could help to lift your spirits, dressing up a little, dancing and drinking with your coworkers. Why not?

Heeseung encouraged you and helped you pick out an outfit over video call. Leaving your room a haphazard mess of tops and skirts, all types of tights and fishnets thrown about as you tried on various looks for him. The two of you agreed upon a deep blood red coat you purchased sometime last year at a street market that resembled a cape.

“That should be good enough to cover you up on your way over.” He gulped, nervously taking in the skimpy black minidress you chose. Cut low to enhance your breast shape, the fabric clung to your skin tightly showing off all of your shape.

“Good thing I work with a ton of girls, right baby?” You winked, blowing him a kiss. He pressed in closer to the screen whimpering.

“Send me a lot of pictures?”

“Of course, don’t have too much fun handing out candy without me?”

The two of you chatted for a bit longer before you had to let him go. It was already after 8pm and the party had been well on its way by the time you arrived. Many of your coworkers had been hitting the open bar hard, dragging you onto the dance floor right as you arrived.

Halloween tunes from Monster Mash to Thriller blasted through the speakers and everyone had fun dancing. Exactly what you needed, not some grungy Parisian club filled with men attempting to grope you all night. Just a good spooky time with the closest thing you have to friends in this lonely city.

This lonely city that you could run into just about anyone in.

Brava. Brava. Bravissima.

That jawline, those eyes, his curved lips. You’d recognize him regardless of the mask covering half of his face. He’s standing there across the floor, beneath the balcony creating a shadow down his face. Sharp gaze laser focused on you, unblinking, licking his lips when you finally spot him.

How long has he waited? How did he know, and why.. why is he wearing that.

The world really stops, slows down, becomes mute when you see him. That’s Sunghoon’s power over you and he knows it. Floating across the floor to you, he bows forward. The cufflinks on his wrist gleam, the white gloves covering his hands strike visually in contrast against his black suit.

And that mask, that mask hiding half of his handsome features. This has to be a joke.

“Phantom.”

“Ah, you did not read my letters.” His tongue clicks, and you’re sure a hint of blush spreads across his one visible cheek.

“I did.” You stammer, squeezing your eyes shut. “N-not the past few, been busy..”

“Well,” reaching out his hand, he smiles. “Trick or treat?”

“Is this not enough of a trick for you?” You can’t help but sneer, rolling your eyes as you take his hand. “What happened to not stalking me at my place of work?

“I’ll have you know I stayed at this establishment for a month. I was invited because I’m now considered a platinum club member guest.” Sunghoon leads you away from the drunken crowd of girls you’d been amongst all night. Head towards the center of the dance floor, his sharp canines shine under the low lights that scatter about the room. “Didn’t think you’d be here, job requirements I’m guessing?”

“Yeah.”

Not necessarily, but that’s none of his business.

“Not allowed to bring a plus one?” He questions. Making his true curiosity very clear.

“Felt like doing a girls night.” You shrug, lifting his hand to look over his costume. “So, why this get up?”

“Why not? I’m in Paris. Felt like an appropriate costume.” He shrugs back, cocking his visible eyebrow. “Not a fan?”

“That’s hilarious..” you mutter. Falling in line with him as he leads you to dance. “Me? Not a fan of Phantom of The Opera?”

“Let me guess, you’re my angel of music?” He grins, turning you around. His free hand creeping onto your waist beneath your cape. “The mask I wear?

“Good guess.” Sticking out your tongue at him, you snort. “I’m a vampire, obviously.”

“Ah, well, your fangs seems to be missing tonight.”

“Oh? You must be a human to think so naive.”

“Could always bite me if that’s the case?” His smile widens, bending in closer. “Right on the jugular, suck me dry to the bone.”

“You’re too insufferable to pull off Phantom, you know.”

Sunghoon can’t stop himself from smiling. He even laughs, pointing out a table nearby. “Join me? I do miss this back and forth with you, you know.”

“My coworkers are waiting for me.” You lie, beginning to turn away.

“Come on, I won’t try anything. Promise.” Holding out his pinky toward you, he nods at the table again. “We can’t chat? Like old time friends?”

“We’ve never been friends, Sunghoon.”

“You’re right, whatever we are is so much worse.” He chuckles. Seemingly amused just to be in your presence. “Please? For a little bit?”

“Fine.” You know better than to give him an inch. Sunghoon only knows how to take more and more, but you can’t deny how human he seems now. Those stupid letters go to you.

“Honestly, had no idea you were a fan.” He holds out his hands in defense. Lips dragging down at the corners. “I thought about being a ghost and the Paris opera ghost came up while I googled. Tell me that’s not too perfect.”

“Well, I’m a big fan.” Easing up around him, you stir a tepid drink around. Mostly nursing it instead of drinking. He has to sit close to hear you as music blares, and you try to ignore how good the cologne he’s wearing smells. “It’s probably weird.”

“No no no! Tell me all about it.” Sunghoon couldn’t look happier to be talking to you. Crossing his arms over his chest proudly, he motions for you to continue. “I’m familiar enough to understand.”

“It’s just a really good romance. A tragic one, but good nonetheless.” You shrug, looking over his costume again. “Maybe I’m a sucker for love triangles.”

“I think I’ve caught onto that.” He snorts. Drinking the last sip of his beverage. “Is it like a team Edward or Jacob thing for you?”

“Pfftt.. don’t compare Phantom to that.”

“Well? You must have been on the good guys side. Raoul, right?” Sunghoon taps his chin. “I mean, you know, he was no Edward if you ask me.”

“Can’t stand Raoul.” You mumble. “He wasn’t really that good of a guy.”

“Pftt, tell me about it.” He scoffs under his breath. Lifting both eyebrows at you. “And Phantom, he’s just one hell of a man, huh?”

“You see, I get it. I understand why it’s only implied that Eric and Christine got it on.” You begin to explain, over-using your hands to distract from how awkward this conversation has become. “But, like—it wasn’t enough.”

Sunghoon grins, eyebrows mockingly bouncing up and down. “You little trollop.”

“Trollop?!” You guffaw, rolling your eyes. “You clearly have got to get back to America.”

“No no, don’t try to change the subject.” Snapping his fingers in your face, he nods for you to continue. “Go on, tell me about how you wanted Gaston Leroux to go into extreme detail about Phantom clapping Miss Daaé’s cheeks.”

“Ugh, it’s not that vulgar.” His smile only increases the more you lie and brush around the topic. Blowing out a long gust of air, you stomp and pretend to whine. How the conversation took a flirty tone is beyond you. “Fine! Fine okay! I dabbled in reading a few erotic Phantom of The Opera novels.”

“Do tell darling.” Sunghoon leans in, highly amused. “Got your shit off to some freaky phan-fiction, did you?”

“You’re seriously annoying.”

“I have to know,” he pouts, humming. “How was it?”

“I mean, Christine..” you trail off, bypassing his gaze. “She never really wanted it, I mean she did. But she didn’t—like she..” the tightness budding in your throat causes you to pause, locking with his gaze. “She did, but she acted differently. He really had to make her his..”

His head tilts, cheek dimpling with an arrogant glimmer in his eyes. “Sounds like my kind of girl.”

“Oh yeah? Since when has your style been the difficult type?”

“Sometimes you need to meet the right one to know what you’re looking for.”

Sunghoon smiles, nodding toward the exit when you don’t keep the conversation going. “The nights still young, want to check out the Halloween parade?”

No. You shouldn’t, but you want to. So you nod and follow him out, keeping your arms pressed tightly against your sides.

Reading letters was definitely a form of emotional cheating, but this, this had to be worse. And deep down inside you knew after this night that Sunghoon Park would never leave you alone. He’d lurk in the shadows, haunt your dreams, chew away at your heart until he could swallow the last beatz

Maybe the darkness that surrounded him reached out toward you for the hundredth time, and maybe you let him in to finally meet yours.

———————————-

~seven years later~

The Eiffel tower is a magnificent sight at night. Lights glow all over the city, reflecting off of the water around. These days you spend a lot of time simply absorbing, taking in the grandiose landscape.

When morning comes you sit down with a cup of coffee, decaffeinated tea as of late. Stirring a cube of sugar until it melts with the hot water, and you take a deep breath. Paris is romanticized in the media, in reality it’s nothing too special. What makes the city special is the people. From the different street vendors, cafe owners, angry bike riders shouting curses, the snooty designer brand employees bustling and rushing to work. There are certain quirks to the city of love that at times make you laugh.

Because here you are, reminiscing on these last few years.

Heeseung had moved back after some time, and you couldn’t have been happier. Taking advantage of the short period of time he had no job, you would venture off to other parts of Europe. Finally visited the Swiss Alps during the Winter season. Everything was as beautiful as you always dreamt of, even more with him by your side.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Deep warmth vibrates against your throat. Pressing soft kisses up the side of your neck, he nips at your ear. Complimenting the diamond earrings he’d gifted you on your last anniversary.

“How much I love it here.”

“Can you believe that you almost left?”

That’s right, the flight to Seattle had even been purchased. Making it all the way to your gate before you broke down and cried. The life you’d made in Paris was everything you ever wanted growing up. And he was everything your heart needed.

“I don’t think you were ever supposed to move back.” Wrapping around your waist from behind, he flattens you back to his chest. Large hands gently resting on the top of your stomach. “I knew ever since that first time, the way your eyes lit up when you stepped off the plane.”

“I hadn’t even left the airport yet.” You scoff, layering your hands on top of his. The sturdy build of his chest eases some of the weight off of your knees, utilizing his strength to lean against. “And I never wanted to leave after that.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Squeezing your hands, he slides them lower to cup around your protruding stomach. Slowly easing your interlaced fingers beneath your bump. “That’s why we’re here.”

Ah yes, there’s three of you to consider now.

Now, how did this happen? How did you get here? What do your parents think?

For one, they don’t know.

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.’ He shrugged, ever the type B personality. He never stressed much about anything the way you did. His only stress ever seemed to be you.

‘We hardly ever see them anyway. A few holidays that they make their way over here. What’s my father going to do? Disown me?’ He spoke arrogantly as ever. Smiling cockily and spinning you into his arms to follow him through the living room when you ran in holding a positive pregnancy test.

You’re not even married.

‘You’re having my baby. It’s about damn time.’

God knows he’s been trying to get you knocked up for months now. And maybe he’s right, you’ve worked despite him insisting he can afford to take care of you without your paychecks. But now seemed like the appropriate time to relax, be a stay at home mother.. buy fancy strollers and baby Chanel ballet flats. If you have a girl, of course.

“You ready darling? I know how much you love to stand out here and admire the pollution but we do have dinner reservations.”

“Do we have time to walk?” You ask hopeful, batting your eyelashes.

“Ahh—“

“Please?”

He’s been such a hard ass ever since you started showing. Making new rules everyday of what you can and cannot do. “I know it’s not far, I saw the confirmation email.”

Clicking his tongue, he playfully glares at you. Rubbing your stomach. “Can’t ever just let me surprise you, can you?”

“Please? Who knows how much longer I’ll be able to see my own feet, let alone walk without waddling.”

Busting into a smile, he nods and directs you to follow him off of the balcony back inside of the house. First, you have to put on a coat, of course, it’s too chilly outside for you to only walk around in a dress. The baby could catch a cold, that’s what he says while getting your arms into a peacoat.

“Already miss wearing my high heels.” You frown at the flats that have begun to take over your closet. Led down the elevator to exit onto the street. His large hand finds yours, taking slow steps to not rush you. Making more effort with his longer legs to keep a light pace.

“Hey, those are $7000 shoes you have on.” He scoffs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “They’re cute.”

“Yeah, they’re cute.” You pout, watching your feet walk down the cobblestone toward the center of town. The convenient location of your ridiculously expensive house was prime real estate, located close enough to everything you’d want walking distance to.

“They’re cute, you’re cuter.”

“Ahh, you little—“

“Hey.” A nervous smile plays on his lips. Coming around to take a few steps ahead of you, he reaches for the front of your coat and stops you. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Sunghoon.” You say flatly. Sensing heat climb up your chest despite the crisp night air. “You know I hate when you do this.”

His smile trembles more, biting on his lower lip. “Do you love me?”

“God, I wish I didn’t.” You sigh to hold back a smile. Turning away to not look at how the tip of his nose reddens. The Eiffel towers not too far now, right to your side.. a near perfect spot for..

Him to get down on his knees as he has when you turn back to look at him.

“I asked you once before if you’d marry me.” His teeth chatter, not from the cold breeze. Blinking at the moisture that rapidly fills his eyes. “You said no.”

“Hoon..”

“And I kept that ring.” The same box from years ago opens up in his hand. The ring he thought screamed your name from the first moment he spotted it in some outrageously priced jewelry store. “I meant what I said back then as much as I do now.”

“You’ve always been crazy.” You manage to say through the wetness filling your throat. Clasping your hands to your face as a sob comes out.

“Is that why you love me?” Sunghoon’s icy complexion flushes pink. A single tear trickles down his cheek, and his eyebrows scrunch together. Chest beating wildly waiting for you to deny him once again.

“One of the reasons.” You nod, draping one of your hands under your stomach to hold your dress down. “One of many.”

“Do you think that this time, I’ll get the girl?” He asks wearily, holding the ring up. “Will you say yes? Will you spend your life with me?”

“I think that you’ve always had the girl.”

“Good, because I’m nothing without her.” More tears pour down his face. Digging the ring out of the jewelry box, he takes a hold of your hand.

“Marry me?”

After all of this time, all of this running away, all of these feelings you denied. There is only one answer.

“Yes.”

———————————-

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