First Chapter And I Already Love It! Excited For The Next Part!

hongjoong being jealous of the other members being talking to reader especially yunho at the end who actively knew that hongjoong was watching. Do it again.

I love this slow build between them and I can’t wait to read more <3

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 10]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of the boys' one night stands outside of the house, Mingi is flirty

Usually, Hongjoong would have been cooped up in his office the entire morning. The others were used to seeing him skip breakfast. So it was weird when they saw him sitting in the second floor lounge, going over papers.

"What's wrong with your office?" Seonghwa asked. Even he was curious as to why the captain was out here.

"There's nothing wrong with my office. I'm just sitting out here for a change of environment." Hongjoong wasn't the best at lying, especially to his best friend.

"Whatever you say..." Seonghwa wasn't convinced but he was hungry and wanted breakfast.

"Can you ask them to send me another coffee when you're down there?" Hongjoong asked. Seonghwa nodded and headed downstairs.

"Morning, hyung." Those that were having their breakfast in the dining room greeted the oldest.

"Morning. Send Hongjoong another coffee. Second floor lounge." He acknowledged the others then gave Hongjoong's order to the maid. She bowed and ran to the kitchen to make Hongjoong's coffee.

"How was Mingi's race last night? I didn't hear anything from him." Seonghwa asked Yunho. Yunho merely shrugged.

"I have no idea, I haven't heard from him either. But considering how he isn't in his room, I'm guessing he stayed out the whole night, probably to celebrate a win. You know those girls like to glue themselves to him." Yunho chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. Seonghwa hummed and ate his breakfast.

"Mr Park, the physician is here. Shall I let him in?" The butler came in, informing Seonghwa with a bow.

"Yes, wake San and let him know then bring to doctor to his room directly." Seonghwa replied. The butler nodded and bowed before leaving the dining room.

"Was it that bad?" Jongho asked.

"The opponent last night clocked him bad. We just want to make sure there's nothing internal that's too serious." Yeosang informed.

"I've got to go, got a meeting with my contractor for the new casino. Have a nice day everyone." Wooyoung jumped up, grabbing his suit jacket off the chair and running out of the room.

"Wooyoung hyung's been so busy with the casino nearing completion." Jongho noted.

"From what I saw last time, it's coming together nicely though. San's still going through the investors that you put together for him. Everyone seems to want a stake, the two did a good job in securing the lot since it's in prime real estate." Seonghwa said.

"That's a good breakfast. Now it's time to go to work." Yunho stretched and stood up to take his leave.

"There's a car coming in. Open the gates." They all heard Hongjoong come down the stairs, announcing to the mansion staff. Turning their heads, they saw the captain jog past.

"What visitor does hyung have?" Yeosang asked. Seonghwa shrugged but did look at the door way curiously.

"(y/n)! You're here." Hongjoong greeted you at the door.

"Hongjoong, good morning." You bowed. Honestly, you were still trying to keep your shock and awe to a minimum upon seeing this place, it was huge.

"Your drive way is very long. Luckily I took a cab or else I would have had to walk." You chuckled.

"Ah, sorry about that. I should have told you. But anyway, I would have gone to pick you or send a car over." Hongjoong said.

"I'm just kidding. It's no worries at all." You removed your shoes. Hongjoong walked before you, leading you further into the house. The maids and butlers that crossed your paths bowed to you and Hongjoong. It was awkward for you so you just bowed back, compared to Hongjoong who just continued ahead.

"(y/n) sshi, you're our new gardener?" Yunho's eyebrows raised in surprise as he greeted you, as if this was the first time he knew that you were going to be the gardener.

"Temporarily. I overheard Hongjoong needing one so I offered my help." You explained.

"Ah, I see. I guess it's good to know our garden is in the safe hands of an expert." Yunho complimented.

"I'm not an expert but thank you for thinking so highly of me." You smiled kindly. Hongjoong cast a slightly suspicious look at you then at Yunho, then back to you.

"So, the garden is this way." Hongjoong intercepted. You hummed and followed him out the glass doors to the back garden.

"Wow... It looks even better in person." You gasped.

"All the work of the landscaper when we got here and all the other gardeners that have worked here. I'll be honest, none of us here are really good with plants. It's just nice to look at so we decided to keep it and maintain it." Hongjoong rubbed the back of his neck.

"Ah, I see. I'll take note of that." You chuckled.

"Also, if you need anything, any extra tools or equipment, go ahead and get them. We'll reimburse you, you shouldn't pay out of your own pocket." Hongjoong smiled a little.

"Thank you. I'll just survey the garden now." You bowed your head awkwardly and stepped up.

"Isn't that..." Jongho tilted his head.

"Mhmm." Yunho nodded as they all gathered there, keeping their distance but still observing you and Hongjoong in the back garden. Seonghwa remained indifferent.

"You did this... Didn't you?" Seonghwa looked up at the tallest. Yunho merely shrugged in response but his smile was enough of a reply.

"Is it okay for her to be here?" Yeosang asked. No one replied to that, Seonghwa was too busy analysing.

When you looked up from where you were observing the plants, you looked behind Hongjoong to see his 4 friends or brothers standing there, staring at the two of you. Suddenly, you became so self aware and self conscious. Hongjoong followed your line of sight and turned around to see the 4 there.

"I'm good on my own, Hongjoong. If you're needed somewhere else..." You cleared your throat. Hongjoong nodded stiffly, realising he was just standing there with nothing much to add anyway.

"If you need anything, just let me know. Or let any of the staff know." He said. You hummed and watched as he headed back in.

"What are you guys doing?" Hongjoong asked.

"I should be asking you that. Since when were you close enough to her to ask her to be our gardener?" Seonghwa raised a questioning eyebrow. Hongjoong shrugged.

"We're not close. She overheard that we needed a new gardener and volunteered to help temporarily." Hongjoong explained.

"Oh, she overheard coincidentally?" Seonghwa shot Yunho a look, who looked away innocently.

"What?" Hongjoong blinked in confusion.

"Nothing. Just... be smart about this. Inform the others about her being here. I don't want to imagine what will happen to her if she sees us drag a corpse out there or something." Seonghwa said. Everyone nodded and Seonghwa went up to his office.

"Is this why you were working outside today, hyung? Waiting for her arrival?" Jongho nudged the captain. Hongjoong shot Jongho a dirty look and pushed his arm away.

"Of course not. I just needed more breathing space. My office was getting too stuffy." Hongjoong said.

"Sure..."

"Don't you all have work to do?" Hongjoong barked.

"Alright, alright. Geez, hyung. No need to shout." Yunho winced and covered his ears. They didn't realise that you were looking at them the entire time.

"They're an odd bunch." You noted to yourself as you inspected the plants in the plots.

"So are you going to be working outside the whole day, hyung?" Yeosang asked. Hongjoong glared at them and they all scurried away.

"Listen, if she needs anything, get it for her. Drinks, snacks, whatever, you understand?" Hongjoong turned to the butler. The butler nodded and bowed respectfully as Hongjoong went back upstairs. He gathered the files and papers that he had left in the lounge and returned back to his office.

With his coffee in his hand, he pulled back the curtains behind his chair, letting in all the light from the big window. And Hongjoong's eyes immediately found you.

"She's something else." He says to himself as he sees you used your fingers to dig through the soil.

All the other girls he has come across never liked getting their hands dirty but you so enthusiastically touched the dirt with bare hands.

"These two should not be planted next to each other." You noted, looking at the herb garden that was there. You assumed that it was for those that cooked on the estate.

"No wonder you're dying." You pouted a little, talking to the plant as you touched the wilting leaf.

"Miss, please help yourself to some refreshments and snacks. If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to let us know." A butler came out with a tray of items and a small, foldable table tucked under his arm.

"Thank you! Let me help you." You rushed over to help him unfold the lawn table he had with him. He seemed surprised that you had dropped what you were doing and came over to help him.

"Oh, miss. Don't worry, I can handle it." He bowed repeatedly but you took the tray from him politely.

"It's okay." You giggled and put the tray down on the table.

"Thank you so much, miss." He bowed deeply and poured the drink from the job into the glass for you. You smiled and received the glass, taking a sip.

"Ah, wait. There is something. Do you know if anyone uses the herb garden out here?" You asked him before he left.

"I'm not sure. Let me check with the kitchen." He said and went back into the house.

"So there is a kitchen crew here." You mumbled to yourself. You sipped the cold, fruit tea that was prepared. It was very delicious and refreshing while standing out in the sun.

"Miss, I have asked and the chef said that he used to take from the herb garden but lately, the herbs have not been in very good condition and they are not as fragrant as before so he has not been havesting." The butler came out, informing you. You nodded with a hum and thanked him.

"Looks like we have to repot and add some new plants while I try to revive these other ones." You said to yourself, making a mental note.

"So, how bad is it?" A voice came behind you. You straightened up and turned around to see one of men there. You didn't recognise him or knew his name.

"Hello. Nice to meet you. It's not that bad, just need to move the plants around." You bowed respectfully.

"That's good to hear. My name is Seonghwa. (y/n), right?" He tilted his head.

"Yes. Nice to meet you, Seonghwa sshi." You awkwardly bowed again. He exuded so much confidence and power, plus he was so elegantly beautiful, you couldn't take your eyes off him.

"Thank you for helping us. Hongjoong said you volunteered to be our gardener." Seonghwa said.

"Oh, no need to thank. Any chance to work with plants in such a big garden." You shook your head. Maybe you didn't know him but there was an intimidating aura around him. Seonghwa was purposely trying to psych you out.

Just in case you had any ulterior motive in being here and getting close to Hongjoong. He didn't know that Hongjoong was the one constantly seeking you out.

"Do you need anything so far?" Seonghwa asked.

"Not at the moment. I didn't bring my tools with me but I will the next time. Hopefully to revive the herb garden." You said.

"What is Hwa doing?" Hongjoong's eyes widened when he turned to the window and saw Seonghwa standing there, talking to you. You were shifting on your feet, looking a little frightened.

"What's a pretty girl doing out here?" A deep voice appeared. Mingi stood there, a smirk on his face.

"No, Mingi ah. No." Seonghwa shook his head. Mingi obviously didn't recognise you from Hongjoong's mother's funeral.

"Selfish." Mingi scoffed but obeyed and headed into the house. Seonghwa sighed and shook his head. Having seen Mingi come, Hongjoong had raced down. Mingi was one of the ones that liked to get flirty with girls. For some reason, he didn't like the idea of Mingi trying to flirt with you.

"Was that Mingi?" Hongjoong lied and acted nonchalant, trying to hide the fact that he was panting from how fast he ran down the stairs. You blinked in confusion at his behaviour.

"Yes, why? He just got home." Seonghwa raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I... Uh, needed to ask him something... So, (y/n), how's the garden?" Hongjoong changed the subject.

"It's alright. My plan is to revive the herb garden and some stuff need to be moved around, they shouldn't be grown together. And some of them are planted in the wrong soil." You explained.

"I guess the gardener before you wasn't as good as we thought." Hongjoong joked.

"They're common mistakes, I guess." You chuckled.

"Didn't you have to find Mingi?" Seonghwa cleared his throat as he reminded Hongjoong. Hongjoong nodded stiffly, giving Seonghwa a suspicious glance.

"See you later, (y/n)." Hongjoong said. You waved as he went back into the house. Seonghwa didn't stay too long too since you just went back to what you were doing. Honestly, it was awkward to have any conversation with him so you focussed on the plants.

"Mingi ah. You don't recognise her?" Hongjoong asked. Mingi shook his head, a look of confusion on his face.

"She's the girl that was at my mother's funeral... The one that knew her..." Hongjoong reminded.

"Oh! Oh... I didn't recognise her. I've only seen her like once, hyung. I barely remember all the girls that hang with us." Mingi shrugged. Hongjoong facepalmed.

"Whatever but no flirting, okay? She's here to be our temporary gardener, that's all." Hongjoong lectured.

"Yeah, yeah, captain. I get it, she's off limits." Mingi waved him off.

"I was going to tell everyone about her being here and working in the house tonight but I guess I should tell everyone now." Hongjoong sighed and took his phone out to send a text to the group.

"And Mingi, no weapons, no blood, nothing of that sort on the days she's here." Hongjoong said.

"Yes, captain." Mingi saluted and went to the kitchen to find some food since he was a little hungover from partying all night.

"The doctor's done with San." Seonghwa came and informed Hongjoong. The captain nodded and headed upstairs with his second in command to check on their brother. Seonghwa knocked on San's door lightly before the two of them entered. San was against the headboard, with an annoyed look on his face.

"Oh, hyungs. It's the two of you. I thought it was that annoying doctor again." San rolled his eyes, reading documents on his iPad. Seonghwa shook his head.

"He was just telling you to get bed rest, San ah. Yeosang said you went down bad last night." Seonghwa said.

"I'm fine. It's just some minor injuries, it's normal. I don't need bed rest." San shrugged.

"Just listen to the doctor, San. No fighting for a bit. In the mean time, help Wooyoung out with the casino stuff." Hongjoong instructed. San was going to protest but decided against it.

"Fine." He slumped.

"At least until you've recovered. Oversee things as the owner, just don't participate." Seonghwa told him.

"Easy for you to say, hyung. You get into a motorcycle crash and still continue racing." San glared. Seonghwa's eyes widened but San knew what he was doing.

"You what?" Hongjoong asked. Seonghwa muttered a curse and shot San the stink eye before slowly turning to see Hongjoong there, with his hands on his hips and a disappointed frown on his face. San smiled victoriously, he wasn't going down on his own.

"It wasn't a major crash." Seonghwa sighed.

"Still a crash, nonetheless Hwa! How could you continued racing?" Hongjoong scolded. Seonghwa rolled his eyes and held Hongjoong's shoulder, pushing him out of the room.

"Hongjoong, don't overreact. It was a minor thing. No serious injuries." Seonghwa said.

"Still, you should tell me if you get hurt." Hongjoong said.

"I will, I will. Now please get back to work. I don't want to find you loitering in the garden." Seonghwa teased. Hongjoong squinted his eyes at Seonghwa.

"Don't even go there." He warned and walked back to his office to do work.

If Hongjoong was worried about you, he could just periodically check in on you from his office window. No, not creepy at all.

"Luckily I have my spade at least." You sighed in relief as you dug through the soil to uproot one of the plants. You felt bad for creating such a mess and getting the soil onto the pavement. But you needed to move the plants, you would have to help them clean up the pavements later when you're done.

"There you go. Welcome to your new home." You smiled as you placed the plant into the new hole you dug, shovelling the soil over the roots and lightly packing it down.

"Excuse me, where's the bathroom?" You entered the house.

"Let me take you, miss." The maid bowed and led you down one of the hallways. She opened the bathroom door for you.

"Thanks." You smiled and entered. The first thing you did was wash your hands thoroghly, not wanting to drop any dirt or soil on the ground of the house.

When you were done with the bathroom, you stepped out and almost bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" You exclaimed and bowed repeatedly. The man shot you an odd look. He was covered in injuries.

"It's fine." He mumbled and walked past you, continuing on his way. Even if you didn't know him, it was concerning to see someone so badly hurt. Was he in a fight? Or did he get beaten up?

"Miss, do you need help getting back to the garden?" A maid came up to you when she saw you standing there in the hallway. You lied and nodded your head. With a small smile, she led you back to where the backyard was.

"Thanks." You smiled gratefully and went back to the area you were initially working on.

"Yunho sshi?" You blinked, seeing him stand there, looking at the hole in the soil that you had dug up previously.

"Why are you digging holes?" He asked.

"Some of the plants are in the wrong soil or shouldn't be grown next to each other so I'm trying to move them. I can't do it all today but I'll start plot by plot." You explained.

"Isn't all soil the same? It's dirt." He stated. There was such a confused look on his face as he tilted his head at you.

"A lot of people think all soil is the same, just dirt. But there are different nutrition levels, the way they retain water, all that differs from soil to soil. Even how they pack around the roots." You giggled.

"Oh... If all the soil here is the same, our gardeners before you must really suck." Yunho clicked his tongue.

"Hongjoong said the same thing earlier too but all I can say is, being a gardener isn't as easy as it seems." You shrugged.

"You're too humble, (y/n)." Yunho smiled charmingly. The two of you burst out laughing. You were unaware that Yunho sent a small wave to someone who was watching your entire interaction from his office window.

~

Series masterlist

some of these deleted scenes were funny and creative

✗ blood in the clouds ✗ | DELETED SCENES | original fic

HOUR 5.5 OF 7 - YOUTUBE VLOGGING

your fingers crumpled the edges of the ‘script’ that hongjoong gave you, the gun ahead of you acting as an unwelcome reminder that you could die at any moment.

you squinted at the paper, your voice cracking slightly as you read aloud. 

“‘dad, you are to provide the $150 million you owe to K.H.J., through your next meeting with mr kim. refusal means that your daughter will be cut up and scattered across the s-’”

your eyes widened. “are you serious?” 

 he lowered the camera he had been aiming at you. “..you want to find out, pretty?”

HOUR 15 OF 7 - DRESS TO IMPRESS

“are you always this picky?” wooyoung sneered as he leaned against the wall. 

you glared at him. “yes.”

the room you were brought to was slightly cleaner and brighter than what you’ve seen so far. on the bed, there were dresses stacked on top of each other, some ridiculous and some stunning. 

“why do you even have these dresses?” you asked as you held one up. 

“we don’t,” wooyoung rolled his eyes. “boss made me steal them for you.”

you dropped the dress and shot him a look. “are you serious?”

“why would we have these lying around?” he scoffed. 

you sighed, picking up a dress. something that was simple and elegant. “i’ll wear this one.”

when you realised that wooyoung ignored you, you spoke up again. “get out.”

he rolled his eyes and left the room with a dramatic huff. once he left, you put the dress on. it wasn’t the most flattering dress you’ve worn, but at least it wasn’t that horrid uniform you’ve been wearing. 

when you were done, you opened the door to see wooyoung waiting - holding a bag of what looked like makeup supplies. you sat on the bed as he loomed through them, picking out something. 

“what the hell is this?” he muttered as he held what looked like a pencil. 

you blinked. “…it’s eyeliner.”

“shit,” he grumbled as his hand wobbled and drew a squiggly line across your cheek. 

you flinched. “what the hell are you doing? i can do it myself-“

“-i’ve done this before!” wooyoung argued as he continued to draw crooked lines near your eyes. 

“is she done yet?” a new voice cut in. you turned to see a man at the doorway. “why is she not ready?”

“seonghwa, take over,” wooyoung snapped as he shoved the pencil into seonghwa’s hands. “i’m getting pissed off.”

seonghwa sighed and stepped forward to where you were sitting. his movements were calm and precise as he wiped off the makeup and reapplied it. 

once he was done, he stepped back with a nod. “you look good.”

you blinked, unsure of whether to thank him. “uh- do you guys have mirrors here?”

both men exchanged a glance before seonghwa shrugged. “no, but just take our word for it.”

before anyone else could say anything, the door swung open. 

it was hongjoong. 

his eyes swept over you slowly and his lips curled into a smirk that made your stomach twist. “let’s go pig hunting.”

HOUR 16 OF 7 - FAST AND FURIOUS

the car swerved violently, tires screeching as hongjoong gripped the steering wheel. the tunnel around you was noisy with gunshots and bullets bouncing off the walls. 

you were in the passenger seat, wearing a black dress as you held the car door for dear life. 

“i thought we were going to an event!” you yelled over the gunshots as the car jerked to the side. 

“i thought so too,” hongjoong sighed as he tilted the rearview mirror. 

before you could say anything, he reached into his blazer and pulled out a sleek black pistol.

“what are you doing?” your jaw dropped. 

he rolled his eyes. “don’t act surprised.” 

“what is wrong with you?!” you spat out, watching him check the bullets. “i’m not letting you kill anyone-“

“god- you’re such a brat,” he clicked his tongue, cocking the gun. “take the wheel.”

you’re eyes widened. “what?!”

“take. the. wheel,” he ordered, already unbuckling his seatbelt. 

hongjoong rolled down the window, letting go of the steering wheel entirely and ramming the gas pedal as he stood up. panicked, you lunged for the wheel, struggling to grip it as the car swerved dangerously to the side. “are you crazy?!”

“drive!” he yelled, raising the gun and firing several shots at the black SUV trailing close behind. 

“shit,” he muttered, ducking back inside to reload his gun. he leaned back out again. “turn right-”

you quickly listened to him as he aimed carefully, firing several more rounds. a loud bang echoed as the SUV’s tires blew out, the vehicle swerving violently before crashing into the tunnel’s wall. 

hongjoong slid back into the seat, taking the steering wheel from you as he rolled up the window. “you’re welcome.”

MONTH 3 - LET’S GO GAMBLING! (initial draft)

“get ready!” san yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.

weapons were drawn and the room erupted into chaos.

you rushed forward, gripping the knife wooyoung lent you earlier. your pulse pounded in your ears as you scanned the room, overwhelmed.

“stay back, brat. you’re not ready.”

hongjoong’s voice was sharp, his hand grabbing your arm as he pushed you to the side. his eyes bore into yours, leaving no room for argument.

you hesitated. the rest of the group either fought piglets near slot machines, roulette tables or bars, their moves deadly.

you tried to follow hongjoong’s order, really. but when you saw one of the piglets break away from the main fight and headed for yeosang, who was hiding under a pool table, you couldn’t resist.

your grip on the knife tightened as you ran forward.

the piglet turned to you, snarling. “you think you can take me, girl?”

without thinking, you lunged.

the clash of steel pierced your ears as your knives collided. you were definitely not a good fighter - your strikes were clumsy and your footing was off, but you were high on adrenaline.

his blows were relentless, forcing you to backpedal. his knife caught yours at an odd angle, causing the blade to deform.

panic surged through you as he moved to strike again, but before he could reach you-

-the piglet dropped to the ground.

you looked behind to see hongjoong standing not too far away, his pistol still aimed at where the piglet was.

his eyes inspected you, narrowing as he assessed your state. blood dripped from a small gash on your lip, and your sleeves were torn - revealing small cuts on your arms.

he sighed. “go hide with yeosang,” he ordered before quickly turning to rejoin the fight.

you staggered toward the pool tables, slumping next to yeosang.

“you’re not fighting?” you panted, wiping your lip.

he shook his head. “too tired.”

you nodded, leaning back against the table’s leg as you impatiently waited for the fight to end, which didn’t take too long.

the gunfire finally ceased, the room falling quiet.

one by one, the group gathered in the corner, collapsing onto the floor in a circle as you and yeosang joined them. bottles of water were passed around as everyone caught their breaths.

for a while, no one spoke, the only sounds being an occasional groan.

“hey,” wooyoung hiccuped, breaking the silence as he turned to you. “give me my knife back.”

you looked at him awkwardly before handing him his completely deformed blade.

“what the hell!” he exclaimed. “that was one of my favourites!”

you shrugged. “you shouldn’t have given it to me then.”

“how was i supposed to know you’d get into an actual fight?” wooyoung complained. “now i don’t feel bad for your busted lip anymore.”

“you’re such a dick,” you rolled your eyes.

wooyoung grinned, leaning closer - his voice mocking sweet. “aw, don’t be mad, sweetheart. i’ll get you a better knife- one that won’t break in your delicate fucking hands.”

“ohmygod- shut up,” you groaned, shoving him lightly as the others chuckled.

hongjoong leaned against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest. his eyes shifted from wooyoung to you. 

he told himself it was relief - that he was glad you were bonding with the crew, that you were starting to feel like one of them. that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? to see you mesh with his team, to become a member?

but why did his stomach twist every time one of them smiled at you?

he didn’t realise how hard his fingers were digging into his arms until his knuckles turned sore and white.

“enough,” hongjoong cut through the conversation.

the laughter died down instantly as everyone turned to him.

“we don’t have time for this,” he continued, standing up. “grab any cash you find and meet by the van. now.”

the group complained but obeyed, sluggishly rising to their feet.

you went to pick up a discarded water bottle, hongjoong’s eyes lingering a fraction too long on the bloodied edge of your sleeve and the small cut on your lip.

he should be angry at you for disobeying him, for throwing yourself into danger when you weren’t ready. but all he could feel was the sickening churn of jealousy at how easily you laughed with the others.

as you passed by him on your way out, he caught your wrist briefly.

“next time, stay where i tell you,” he said. “now you’re hurt.”

you nodded, hesitating before you spoke, your voice soft. “...i’m sorry.”

hongjoong blinked, taken aback.

“i-” your brows furrowed. “i didn’t mean to get hurt. i just wanted to help..”

fuck- why, no- how were you so genuine?

he expected you to talk back or shrug him off, not this - sincerity shining in your eyes. now, he just looked like a shithead, guilt clawing at his chest.

hongjoong exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “whatever- it wasn’t your fault-”

you tilted your head, confused. “but you-”

“just find the cash we need,” he cut you off, walking away.

hongjoong felt his stomach twist once more. he told himself it was just concern or worry. but deep down, he knew it was something more complicated.

and he hated it.

other fics

ATEEZ WRITERS IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, PLEASE WRITE A SERIES OR A ONE-SHOT ABOUT ANY OF THESE PHOTOS AND IF YOU DO PLEASE TAG ME!

🐟 k - kids by current joys

🐟 o - odd reasons by donovan melero

🐟 i - it’s you by ateez

I can’t recommend much music, but hey it’s something

MOOT / TAG GAME !

mission— spell your real name / name you use on tumblr with songs you like >< ready, set, go !

m — my love, mine all mine (mitski)

i — i love you, i’m sorry (gracie abrams)

c — coraline (lyn lapid)

k — killshot (magdalena bay)

i — i know you (faye webster)

e — either way (ive)

tagging— @puma-riki @flwrstqr @liwinly @woniefication @lilificationn @stvrriki @okwonyo + anyone else who wants to join !

THE CLIFFHANGER?!?!??

I need the next part (of course take your time)

strangers by nature | vi

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.6K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, attacks on animals, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of mental health, only half proofread, use of crude language

Fic Masterlist | Taglist Signup

a/n: it hurt me to write this chapter 😭

You weren’t particularly close to your father. His life revolved around his work—the family business he hadn’t wanted but had accepted out of obligation when your uncles, San and Jongho’s fathers, stepped aside, unwilling to subject their sons to the challenges of running a conglomerate.

Sometimes you wished he had done the same too. 

He was often away, traveling to meet clients or locked in endless board meetings. He wasn’t the type of man to swoop in with comforting words or a warm embrace. Instead, he listened without interrupting, nodded without judgment, and spoke only when he felt it was necessary. Despite the distance between you, his steady presence had a way of making you feel oddly secure.

And maybe that was why, as you paced the length of your penthouse, you found yourself dialing his number. Mingi followed your every move, his small body glued to your side. He kept glancing up at you, occasionally tripping you with how close he was.

“Come on, pick up, pick up…” You muttered to yourself. Your pacing carried you in a loop—through the kitchen, into the dining room you barely used, and then into the living room. Then, you wandered back into the kitchen, your footsteps quickening with every unanswered ring.

“Y/N?”

Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you stopped pacing, planting yourself in the middle of the kitchen as Mingi bumped up against your ankles. 

“Dad!”

“Is everything alright?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the phone. How were you supposed to explain everything that had transpired the last few weeks without sounding unhinged? 

What were you even supposed to say? Hi, Dad. Quick question: Are you sure the woman you’re married to is actually my mother?

Your parents’ marriage had always seemed like a curious thing to you. It was a product of an arrangement. Yet, over the years, your father’s quiet gestures of affection seemed to keep your mother content, even happy.

Surely, he couldn’t have had an affair.

The idea felt absurd, but then again, you’d always felt like a stranger in your own home, an outsider looking in at a family that didn’t quite seem to know where you fit.

“I-I need to talk to you about something. I didn’t want to call mom because…you know how she gets.”

Your mother had a flair for theatrics, a tendency to turn even the smallest inconvenience into a grand production. If you’d called her instead, the situation would have escalated before you even finished explaining. 

“What’s going on?”

“I…” You faltered for a moment, running a hand through your hair before continuing your train of thought.

“There’s this woman who I think has been stalking me. A friend of mine was dogsitting Maro when she approached him at the park.” Your voice dropped slightly, recounting your conversation with Yeosang. 

“She recognized Maro…and referred to me as her daughter.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you took a moment to crouch down and stroke Mingi’s fur as he leaned into your side. 

“I don’t know who she is,” you admitted softly. “But…something about her felt wrong. And it’s been bothering me ever since.”

“Did she hurt you or Maro?”

“No, but she tried to abduct a little girl a few weeks ago. We stopped her and she fled.”

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said, his tone suddenly firm. 

You froze mid-step, his words rooting you in place. “Okay,” you said hesitantly, your voice small.

“I need you to stay put,” he continued. “Don’t do anything or go anywhere, especially not alone. I’m going to call the lawyers and have them review the court order and police files.”

“Court order?” you repeated, confusion rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Call either San or Jongho,” he said instead, his tone softening just enough to sound like a plea. 

“Let them know I’ve asked one of them to stay with you until we sort this out.”

“Dad, what court order?” you pressed, gripping the phone tighter as your heart raced. 

Mingi, sensing your distress, pawed at you insistently, his soft whines urging you to sit down. But you couldn’t move, couldn’t tear your focus away from the ominous edge in your father’s voice.

“There was an incident when you were three. If she is who I think she is, she’s someone we dealt with a long time ago.”

“Who?”

“Your former nanny,” he admitted, his voice steady but grim. “She tried to take you,” he said bluntly. 

“At first, she seemed fine. Kind, attentive, everything you’d want for a child. But things started escalating. Your mother noticed something was off right after she lost her own daughter in an accident. She’d grown too attached to you. Too possessive. We let her go, but before we could take any legal action, she attempted to abduct you.”

“She tried to kidnap me?”

“She managed to evade security at first. It was like any other day. But by the time we realized what was happening, she was already on her way to the airport with you.” 

The room spun, and before you realized it, you had sunk to the floor. The color drained from your face as the weight of the revelation hit you. Mingi froze, his small body going still as he struggled to process the gravity of what he was hearing.  

He let out a soft whine, curling closer to you. He hadn’t fully understood your fears, the reasons behind your walls, the way panic sometimes overtook you without warning.

Now, as a dog, powerless to do anything but sit beside you, the weight of guilt felt almost unbearable.

“We caught her in time,” he continued quickly, his tone shifting, as if trying to calm you. 

“She didn’t make it far. Security intercepted her at the gate just as she was preparing to board a flight. We filed charges immediately and she was arrested.”

“But?” you scoffed. “Your money and influence couldn’t keep her behind bars?”

“We didn’t think she’d ever get out, Y/N. The charges were serious, and the evidence was solid. At the time, we were assured she’d be locked away for decades.” He hesitated, and for a moment, you thought you heard his voice waver. 

“You were so young. We didn’t want to burden you with something you wouldn’t even remember. We thought we could protect you from it all.”

“So much for power,” you muttered bitterly, rubbing your temples. “She seems to be escalating. She’s openly trying to kidnap children now. Who knows what else she’s capable of?”

Your father’s sigh was heavy. “Which is why you’re not to go anywhere alone, Y/N. Not until this is resolved.”

“Dad—”

“I’ll be increasing the security presence around the penthouse as well. And before you ask, yes, I'll be coordinating with Mingi’s family to ensure their resources are aligned with ours.”

The mention of your in-laws made your stomach twist. They were probably unaware of the situation, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. You could already imagine your mother-in-law spinning the story to her social circle about her damsel of a daughter-in-law and how her poor son was unable to save her. The thought of being the centerpiece of their gossip left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Make sure there’s a secure presence at the hospital too,” you said, cutting in before the conversation could linger on your in-laws. 

“She might try something there.”

Your father arched a brow. He knew you didn’t particularly like being married to Mingi—he wasn’t blind to the strain in your relationship. Truthfully, he regretted agreeing to the arrangement in the first place. He’d witnessed firsthand the coldness with which Mingi had treated you, most notably the way he’d rebuffed your birthday gathering that first year of marriage. It had been a bitter reminder that not all alliances were worth the price they came with.

But upon hearing your request, it made him realize that you had always been kinder, and more compassionate than those around him. While he had always seemed distant, caught up in his own world of business and power, moments like these reminded him that you had grown into someone he was proud of. Someone who cared, even for those who didn’t deserve it.

“Is there anything else that you need?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly. “But I’m not going to live in fear forever. She doesn’t get to have that power over me.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just want you to be safe.”

The line disconnected and you set the phone down, your hand lingering on it for a moment before turning back to Mingi. You felt a surge of emotions–anger, frustration, fear, and a flicker of determination. 

But when you saw him sitting patiently on the floor, watching you intently with his big eyes, fluffy ears, and wrinkled nose, everything inside you softened. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in that moment, and your heart ached with affection. 

“You’re so cute, I can’t stand it,” you squealed, the intensity of your emotions spilling out in a completely unexpected way. 

Without thinking, you scooped him into your arms, pressing your face against his soft fur as you swayed back and forth with him. Mingi melted into your embrace, his small body going limp as he relished your warmth. 

“I just want to squish you!” you exclaimed, giggling as you kissed him between the ears. 

Mingi let out a soft, rumbling growl, not out of annoyance but because he didn’t know how else to respond to the flood of emotions washing over him. If only you knew how deeply he wanted to protect you, not just as a dog, but as the man who had failed to see your worth for far too long.

“I should probably text the group chat,” you murmured, reaching for your phone while balancing Mingi securely in your other arm.

[Y/N]: My dad said I can have a sleepover

[Grumpy Bear]: fuck yeah

[Mountain Mayne]: Can Kira come too?”

[Y/N]: Only Kira, you stay home

⋆

Mingi found himself scowling, scooped up in San’s arms, as the four of you lounged in your living room, covered in mountains of blankets, pillows, and snacks. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this situation, but he was definitely not thrilled when your cousins and San’s fiancée came crashing into the penthouse after you summoned them with a single text.

“Why isn’t the dog distribution system working for us?” San asked, holding Mingi out toward Kira like he was some kind of offering. Mingi shot him a glare, but the effect was somewhat lost given his tiny size and the way his fur poofed up around his face.

“Because we already have three cats at home,” she replied, chomping on a piece of cheese without looking up from her phone. San sighed dramatically, pulling Mingi back to cradle him like a baby. 

“Don’t worry, Maro, I'll save you from your owner and her evil husband.”

Mingi bristled, his fur puffing out even more. He barked indignantly, but it only made San laugh as he nuzzled Mingi’s fluffy face.

“Yeah, if the evil husband ever wakes up,” Jongho snorted from under his fortress of blankets. 

The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of Howl’s Moving Castle playing in the background. Mingi froze, his small body tensing in San’s arms. His ears flattened against his head as Jongho’s words echoed in his mind. 

Sure, he hadn’t been a perfect husband. He wasn’t even sure he’d been a good one. But…evil?

“Oh come on, that’s not fair,” you replied, albeit with an edge to your tone. 

“What?” Jongho raised his hands defensively, his expression a mix of guilt and awkwardness. 

“It was a joke. I mean, come on, the guy cheated, publicly humiliated you… you can do so much better, Y/N.”

“I know a good divorce lawyer,” Kira added, waving her phone as if the solution to your problems was just a call away. 

The truth of their words clawed at Mingi, a painful reminder of everything he’d done wrong. He wanted to bark, to growl, to defend himself, but what could he even say? That they were wrong? They weren’t. Not completely.

You inhaled sharply, your lips pressing into a thin line as you plopped down next to San. He glanced at you, but you ignored it, your focus entirely on the small dog curled stiffly in his arms.

“I get it,” you said finally, your voice clipped as you reached out and gently plucked Maro out of your cousin’s arms. He went still in your hold, his small body tensing as he waited for what you’d say next.

“Mingi has his own problems, but right now, he doesn’t have anyone in his corner. I don’t know what will happen when he wakes up, but it’s not fair to say things like that when he’s not here.” You cradled him closer, your touch instinctively protective as if shielding him from their judgement. 

Jongho exhaled loudly, his earlier confidence deflating as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets. “Fair point,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. That was out of line.”

Mingi stayed silent, nestled in your arms, his mind racing. You could have left him at the hospital. You could have walked away, started over. Hell, maybe you should have. You could have even entertained the thought of dating Seonghwa, or Yeosang, or anyone else. Anyone but him.

But you hadn’t.

You spent countless nights in that hospital room, talking to him, even when he couldn’t say anything back. You stood up for him, even now, when he didn’t deserve it.

Mingi could picture it so clearly: someone else making you laugh, someone else holding your hand, someone else seeing the best parts of you. 

Maybe they were right, he thought bitterly. Maybe you really could do better. 

But even if that was true, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Not when there was still a sliver of hope that he might wake up, make amends, and find a way back to being the man you once believed he could be.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” you announced, rising to your feet with an exaggerated stretch. “It’s way past bedtime.”

“I’ll stay here,” San declared. “In case your stalker tries anything.”

“Good for you, honey,” Kira patted his shoulder. “But I’m going into one of the guest rooms because that’s what sane people do.”

“You’ve got this covered,” Jongho muttered sleepily, dragging himself out of the blanket pile. He stretched with a loud yawn and shuffled toward his room without even waiting for a reply.

“We’re supposed to be in this together,” San grumbled, throwing a pillow halfheartedly at Jongho’s retreating figure. It missed by a wide margin, flopping harmlessly to the floor.

As you slipped into your room, the shift was immediate. The air turned quiet and soft, a reprieve from the playful chaos outside. You closed the door gently and set Mingi down on the bed, his fluffy body sinking into the plush comforter.

He sat perfectly still, watching you move around the room. You pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and fluffed the pillows before finally settling in.

Patting the space beside you, you called softly, “Time for bed.”

He padded over, his small paws making barely a sound as he climbed onto the blankets and curled up near your side. When he tucked his nose into the crook of your neck, you giggled.

“I love you. Night night, puppy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

As you drifted off to sleep, Mingi stayed awake, tracing the gentle slope of your nose to the soft curve of your lips. It all seemed so fleeting, like everything could slip away in the blink of an eye. 

He sighed softly, rolling onto his back and then to his side again, unable to find a comfortable position. San’s snores rumbled faintly through the door, a reminder of the others nearby. But Mingi’s mind was too restless to relax.

His mind drifted to his last task: What did it mean to offer you happiness without expecting anything in return?

Isn’t it about giving you what you wanted? Protecting you, making you laugh, or ensuring you were never alone? But the more he thought about it, the more complicated it became.

How could he possibly give you that when so much of his past had been spent hurting you?

He remembered the times he’d chosen his own pride over your feelings, the cruel words he couldn’t take back, the moments he’d walked away when you needed him most. He had made you feel small, like you were the one who didn’t belong, the one who wasn’t good enough for him, all while he continued living his life while you were left to pick up the pieces of your own. 

“You’re home all the time, don’t you have any friends?”

Your response had been blunt, cold, almost dismissive. 

“No, they’re dead.”

That was all you said to him. No explanation, just a heavy finality that left him speechless. He didn’t know what it meant then, but now, looking back, it felt like a confession, a glimpse into a part of you that was buried beneath the walls you’d built to protect yourself after losing Hongjoong.  

Kim Hongjoong, the ghost of a man who had never left your heart. The man who had held a place there long before Mingi had even existed in your life. And in that moment, jealousy crept in. It was sharp, bitter, the thought of losing you to a ghost threatening to consume him.

He hated that Hongjoong would always carry that piece of your heart he couldn’t touch, a piece that belonged to someone who had once been your everything. Because in this moment, Mingi, more than anything, coveted that place in your heart. 

No matter how much he tried to remind himself that he was here, that he was now, it didn’t quell the sense of inadequacy growing within him. He couldn’t love you with the expectation of erasing your past or taking what wasn’t his to have.

If he was to prove himself, to earn his humanity, it couldn’t be about him. It had to come from a place of selflessness. He had to love you for who you were, even if it meant living in the shadow of a ghost. Even if it meant never being able to fully claim a place in your heart.

Even if it might mean accepting that some parts of you could never belong to him, no matter how much he wanted them to. And as painful as that truth was, Mingi knew it was the only way forward.

He nestled into your side, his fluffy form fitting snugly against you as he placed a paw against your nose. The steady rise and fall of your chest soothed him, reminding him that he was yours, even if it was only as Maro. 

“I’m so bored,” you groaned, hanging your head over the back of the couch dramatically. The ceiling wasn’t particularly interesting, but you were so desperate for stimulation that you started counting the corners of the crown molding.

Kira glanced over from the kitchen, her brow furrowing in concentration as she whisked a bowl of batter with a bit too much vigor. 

“You should try being useful. Come help me bake.”

“I’d rather be anywhere but here,” you muttered, sliding further down the couch until you were almost horizontal. “I’ve seen every corner of this penthouse.” 

“Drama queen,” she said lightly. “You’re safe here. That’s what matters. And besides, I thought you’d enjoy the time off.”

“Time off from what?”

“I don’t know? The hospital? The back and forth must be draining.”

You hummed in response, though that was all you could muster. Draining wasn’t quite the word for it. It was true the days spent at the hospital had a way of blurring together, but you didn’t mind staying there. In some strange way, it felt right.

At the hospital, you had a routine. You’d arrive in the evening, lay on the sofa and stare out into nothingness. Sometimes you’d read, talk to him about trivial things, or just sit quietly, the hum of the monitors filling the silence. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A way to show him that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t respond.

Because deep down, you knew he needed someone on his side.

It wasn’t easy to admit, even to yourself, but a part of you still held out hope for reconciliation. Not the fairytale kind, where everything magically resolved and all wounds were healed, but something quieter. A mutual understanding, perhaps. A moment where he’d open up, even just a little, and let you see the person behind all the walls he’d built.

You knew he was hurting. You’d always known, even when he tried to mask it with anger or indifference. His actions, the coldness, the distance, the biting remarks, were all symptoms of something deeper.  

But there was another part of you, a quieter voice that you couldn’t ignore. The part that braced for no change at all. That prepared for the possibility that when, if, he woke up, he’d still be the same person he was before. That he’d still look at you like you were the problem, the obstacle, the thing standing in the way of his happiness.

That part of you longed for freedom.

You’d spent so much time tangled up in his chaos, in his pain, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to just...be.

Maybe, if and when he woke up, he’d be willing to part ways. And maybe that would be for the best.

“I ran out of eggs!”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented. “What?”

“Eggs!” she repeated, holding up the empty carton. “I can’t believe I forgot them. I’m halfway through making this cake, and now I have to stop everything to run to the store.”

“I’ll go with you!” you said quickly, standing up from the couch so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.

Kira froze, narrowing her eyes at you. “You know you’re not supposed to leave.”

“And you’re supposed to be at the courthouse, but here you are, baking a cake for a man.”

“First of all, it’s called paid time off,” she replied, narrowing her eyes further. “Secondly, San’s stroke game is top tier.”

“Oh my God, stop!” you cut her off, throwing your hands up. 

“I do not want to hear about your sex life with my cousin. He used to eat mud as a kid.”

Kira rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Anyway,” she continued, “your dad would absolutely kill me. He gave strict orders to keep you here. And unlike you, I actually follow them.”

“Come on, Kira,” you pleaded. Your eyes landed on Maro, lounging nearby. You scooped him up in one swift motion, holding him up like a fluffy shield. 

“Even Maro thinks it’s a good idea!”

Mingi tilted his head, his dark eyes widening as he gave Kira his best impression of a sad, helpless puppy.

“Look at him. He’s begging you.”

Kira groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s a quick trip. Five minutes, tops,” you promised, your tone bordering on desperate. “I won’t go anywhere, I’ll stay by your side the entire time!”

She sighed, clearly wavering. “Fine.”

The ding of the store’s bell announced your arrival, and the comforting smell of fried food from the deli counter made your stomach grumble. Kira grabbed a basket, striding purposefully toward the back where the eggs were stashed.

“Eggs,” she said firmly, shooting you a warning glance over her shoulder.

“Got it,” you replied, though your eyes immediately wandered to the chip aisle.

The small store was quiet, almost unnervingly still, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. As you followed Kira, your gaze flicked around the store—a habit you’d picked up recently without fully realizing it. Your shoulders tensed, the faint prickling sensation at the back of your neck making you feel exposed. It was probably nothing, you told yourself, trying to brush it off.

Kira tossed a carton of eggs into the basket and turned to you with a raised brow. “Anything else?”

Her voice startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before grabbing a bag of chips from a nearby rack and a pack of chocolate-covered pretzels from the next shelf over.

“Alright, ready!” you chirped. 

The cashier rang up your items without much fuss, and soon you were both on your way. But as the store door clicked shut behind you, that sense of discomfort returned. You glanced over your shoulder, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden motion might draw unwanted attention.

Your eyes darted to the empty street ahead, scanning the familiar buildings and darkened windows. It looked deserted, but the nagging feeling told you otherwise.

“You okay?” Kira asked, noticing your hesitation.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, the word tumbling out a little too fast. You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. 

You told yourself it was nothing, a stray thought feeding your paranoia. But as you turned the corner toward your apartment, your worst fears materialized. A shadow detached itself from the side of a building ahead, stepping into the weak glow of the nearest streetlamp. Your stomach dropped, and your chest tightened when you noticed the glint of the knife in hand. 

“Y/N.”

Your stalker. Your former nanny. 

Kira froze beside you, her posture immediately tense. Her free hand twitched toward her phone, but her other gripped your arm tightly, as if anchoring you in place. You shook her off with a small, almost imperceptible gesture, your lips moving silently to form the words: Call San.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t argue. She stepped back, her movements careful as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

“Hey…mom,” you said, your voice trembling but just steady enough to hold its own. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but it was all you could think of to buy yourself time.

The woman’s head tilted, her expression softening into something disturbingly tender. “Oh, my sweet Y/N,” she cooed, taking a step closer. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” she continued. “You’ve grown so much. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

The delusion in her voice sent ice down your spine. She didn’t just see you as a person. You were a possession—something she believed she owned.

“It’s been a while,” you said cautiously, keeping your tone light, though your hands trembled at your sides. 

“What…what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home!”

“Right…home,” you repeated, your stomach churning at the word. You took a step back, careful to keep your movements slow and nonthreatening. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk and catch up? I just ate, and walking helps with digestion. Did you know that?”

The woman blinked, her head tilting further to the side. For a moment, she seemed caught off guard by the suggestion.

“A walk?” she echoed, suspicion flickering across her face before fading into hesitant curiosity. “You want to spend time with me?”

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “O-Of course! I mean, it’s been so long, right? We have so much to talk about.”

Behind you, Kira moved as quietly as possible, her phone pressed to her ear as she whispered into the receiver. The nanny walked ahead, still clutching the knife tightly in her hand as your figures disappeared into the darkness.

⋆

Mingi paced restlessly around the penthouse, his claws clicking softly against the floor. His tail flicked with agitation, and his ears twitched, straining to catch a sound that wasn’t there. Something felt wrong—deeply, inexplicably wrong. You were only supposed to be gone with Kira for five  minutes. 

But those five minutes had turned to an hour. 

The door to the penthouse slammed open, and Jongho burst inside, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. His face was pale and his brow furrowed deeply as he listened to the voice on the other end.

“Yes, I’m here now,” he said hurriedly, his tone clipped and tense. Mingi froze mid-step, his ears flicking forward as Jongho’s words sank in. Looking for you? His heart dropped. Did something happen to you?

“I’ll stay here in case she comes back. Yes, San and Kira are out looking for her along with law enforcement.”

Mingi’s nose twitched, catching the faint remnants of Jongho’s scent. There was something else mingled with it—the sharp tang of fear. A shiver ran down his spine. Jongho wasn’t scared for himself; he was scared for you.

In his frenzy, Jongho forgot to shut the door completely. It clicked behind him, but the latch didn’t catch, leaving it slightly ajar as he retreated further into the penthouse. 

Mingi knew you were most definitely scared, but were relying on your wit to keep your abductor as distracted for as long as possible. But it could only go so far. You needed help. You needed him.

He darted after Jongho, letting out a short, sharp yip that made him turn with a frown.

“Maro?” Jongho’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Mingi barked again, more insistent this time. He jumped in place, then headbutted Jongho's leg with surprising force, urging him toward the hallway. When Jongho still didn’t move, Mingi let out a sharp yip, trotted to the door, and paused to bark over his shoulder. Come on, follow me!

Out in the hallway, Mingi’s incessant barking continued until Jongho relented, reaching out to push the call button for the elevator. 

Jongho stared down at the little dog, confusion etched across his face. “Why are you so interested in the elevator?” 

Mingi stayed silent in an attempt to get this timing right. Then, as soon as the doors began to close, he darted forward, squeezing inside at the last second. Jongho blinked, momentarily stunned, before the realization hit him.

“I just…got played by a dog.”

Outside, Mingi paused just long enough to pick up your scent on the breeze. Darting forward, Mingi weaved through the bustling crowd, his small frame slipping unnoticed between legs and around obstacles. His nose twitched, staying locked on the trail, as he took off into the night with the promise of finding you

“I’m coming,” he whispered under his breath, to keep himself moving. His legs burned, and his lungs ached, but he didn’t stop.

Your nanny stood a few feet away, as you guided her to a nearby park. Her body taut with a kind of unnatural stillness. Her expression was deceptively calm, but her eyes gleamed with something unhinged.

“How have you been? You’re married right? I see the ring on your finger.”

Your fingers twitched involuntarily, brushing against the cool platinum of your wedding band. It felt heavier than usual under her scrutinizing gaze. “I am,” you replied, keeping your tone calm and steady despite the way your stomach churned.

“Almost three years now.”

“Three years? That’s wonderful. What’s your husband like? Oh, I’d love to meet him!”

“Unfortunately, he’s on a business trip overseas. B-But when he comes back, maybe we could have dinner.”

Her smile stretched impossibly wider, her eyes glinting with a strange light as she clasped her hands together. “Dinner? Oh, how wonderful! Just like old times!”

“Y-Yeah, just like old times. You, me, um, Mingi and…dad.”

“Dad?” she echoed, her voice hollow and strained. “Your father?”

The moment the word "Dad" left your lips, her expression darkened and her grip on the knife tightened, turning her knuckles white as the blade trembled in her hand.

“No! Not him! Not while he’s married to that bitch!” she spat venomously. 

“You know, his wife didn’t love you like I did! She didn’t raise you! She wasn’t there for you!”

Her face twisted with fury, her voice rising as she screamed. “She left you behind! Do you remember that? Do you? She didn’t care about you! She abandoned you—threw you away like trash! But me? I stayed. I cared. I’m your family!”

Mingi’s ears perked up at the sound of that voice. It was her—the same woman who had tried to abduct Yena weeks ago. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but he forced his down, shifting his focus to the sights and sounds around him. In the distance, he caught fragments of Kira’s raised voice, as she argued with the District Attorney.

“She should never have been released!” 

“Her delusions weren’t just untreated, they were escalating. And instead of following protocol, the facility discharged her prematurely without an appropriate plan in place.”

Mingi’s ears flicked toward the sound as Kira’s voice grew louder, her pace quickening.

“The ruling was explicit! The family was to be notified of any changes in her care plan. But no one was! And now she’s out here, putting Y/N in danger!”

The echoes of Kira’s tirade faded into the background as Mingi tuned everything else out, his focus narrowing to a single goal. Find you. Protect you.

She won’t hurt you. I won’t let her, he promised. 

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you searched for the right words to diffuse the situation. “You’re right,” you said gently, taking a slow step forward as your eyes stayed locked on the blade.

“I should’ve done more to stay in touch. You were important to me, and I didn’t show that the way I should have.”

Mingi crept closer, staying low and moving with careful precision. His small frame blended with the shadows cast by the trees, his paws silent against the ground. His ears were pinned back as he watched the stalker. For a split second, her grip on the knife faltered. Her expression softened, dimming into something more fragile, almost childlike.

But then her face contorted again. “You’re lying!” she screamed, taking a step toward you. 

“You don’t mean that! You’re just saying that to make me go away.” She took a step closer, the knife jerking with her erratic movements.

His nose twitched, catching the faint scent of your fear mingled with her unbridled rage. Her emotions were spiraling out of control, and with every step she took, the gap between you and danger grew smaller.

“I’m not,” you said firmly, taking a careful step backwards. 

“I mean it. You were there for me when I needed someone, and I want to be here for you now. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me.”

She hesitated, the knife wavering slightly in her grip. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like your words might be getting through.

Mingi inched closer, his eyes tracking her trembling hand, and his body tensed, ready to spring.

“You’ll leave me again! Just like her!”

That was his cue. With a burst of speed, Mingi darted forward, his small body a blur of motion. His sharp teeth clamped down on her ankle, eliciting a startled cry. She stumbled, but her fury only intensified. She lashed out blindly, her hand sweeping through the air, the knife flashing dangerously.

“Maro!” you screamed. 

Without hesitation, you lunged forward, your heart pounding as you reached for her wrist. Your grip was firm, fueled by adrenaline and sheer determination as you kicked her back, sending her stumbling slightly. With a swift motion, you scooped Mingi into your arms, cradling him against your chest.

As she steadied herself, her arm swung wildly and you raised your arm to shield Mingi. The knife sliced through your forearm leaving streaks of blood, but you didn’t let go, tightened your hold on him as you focused on the woman in front of you.

“I’m sorry you lost your daughter,” you began, your tone water as you tried to bite back the pain radiating down your arm.  

“I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been carrying, or how much it’s changed you. I’m sure whatever happened broke you in ways no one can see. But trying to replace her won’t bring her back.”

You could see the tears threatening to spill over, but they did nothing to soften her. If anything, they seemed to fuel her anger. Her grip on the knife tightened as she took a shaky step toward you. Your heart pounded and Mingi whimpered softly, pressing his small body closer to yours, and you instinctively held him tighter, bracing yourself.

“Police! Drop your weapon!” 

“Y/N!” your dad’s voice rang out. You turned your head just enough to see him running toward you, San and Kira close behind, flanked by a group of police officers.

The stalker froze, her head snapping toward the source of the commotion. Her grip on the knife faltered, and for a split second, you thought she might comply. But then her face contorted with fury once more, and she tightened her hold, her body tensing as if preparing to lunge.

“Stay back!” she screamed, her voice shrill and panicked.

The officers fanned out, their weapons drawn, their voices calm but firm as they repeated their commands. “Drop the knife! Put it down now!”

Your dad reached you first, his hand gripping your shoulder as he stepped slightly in front of you. “Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, his sharp eyes taking in the blood streaking down your arm and the puppy trembling in your hold.

“She cut me,” you admitted, glancing at the blood streaking down your arm. “It’s not deep, but—” You shifted Mingi slightly in your hold, cradling him closer. 

Mingi let out a soft, sleepy sigh, his head resting heavily against your chest as your dad checked you over. His breaths came slower now, each one softer than the last. His little paws twitched as though he were trying to cling to you.

His mind wandered, a hazy string of thoughts pulling him along. He couldn’t wait to go home, to finally feel safe and warm. He imagined curling up in your lap, nuzzling into your arms while you stroked his fur. He thought about Hetmon and all the running around they’re going to do at the park.

Oh, and snacks, he thought sleepily. Lots of snacks. His little tail gave a faint twitch at the thought, but even that felt like too much effort now.

Just a nap, he thought. I’ll rest for a bit, then we’ll go home. We’ll be okay.

When Mingi woke, the air around him was...different. It wasn’t the plush sheets of your bed or the soft pillow he’d grown accustomed to sleeping on. Instead, he found himself in a small, cozy basket lined with a soft cushion, placed near a gently crackling fireplace. 

He blinked, his vision adjusting to the soft light streaming through the windows of a small cottage. The space was intimate, with wooden walls lined with shelves overflowing with books, plants, and stacks of parchment. The scent of tea and ink hung in the air, faint but familiar, tugging at something deep in Mingi’s memory.

The atmosphere was comforting, nostalgic even, though Mingi couldn’t quite place why. 

“Ah,” the man said, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You’re finally awake.”

Mingi’s ears perked up as he turned toward the sound. A man crouched next to him–his features were sharp but his expression was soft and kind. Mingi tilted his head, his ears twitching as he studied the man. He’d never met him before, but his scent was unmistakable. 

It was audacious and bold, much like the jazz notes he remembered sitting on the piano back at home. 

Kim Hongjoong?

<< v | vii >>

taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1

@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

@desi2go @beabatiny @sangilov-r @roomsofangel @symmieangela

@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8

@yoonrixx @jean-swolo @silent-potato @jiwoongsblondehair @sanriomilk

@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills

@kyomiingi @tournesol155 @bee-gremlin @sutskyu @fleuresjay

@http-gyu @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola

@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr

@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Accidentally Have 8 Pets - @xuchiya ot8 x reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ateez Responding To You Telling Them You Want A Divorce - @deerieme bf!ot8 x reader (text scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Bassists Do It Deeper - @crimsonbubble rockstar!hongjoong x reader x bassists!mingi (thoughts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Calling Them Pretty - @nightbeforethend bf!ot8 x reader (text scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Coppélia - @spookwriter-xo mafia!ot8 x ballerina!reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 A Deal With The Devil - @mingi-s-dimples devil!hongjoong x pastor’s daughter!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Captain Little Mate: Round 2 - @crimsonbubble dad!hongjoong x mom!reader (hard thoughts) 𓆞 𓆞 Car Sex - @yourfatherlucifer bf!hongjoong x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Cry For Me [Part One | Part Two | Part Three] - @yeostinys ceo!hongjoong x secretary!reader (three parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Detective Kim - @mingkismain detective!hongjoong x detective!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Drunken Love - @kisseudoll bf!seonghwa x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Pink Star Presents - @holybibly pornstar!seonghwa x pornstar!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Pink Yarn - @daydreamingaboutkoreanmen idol!seonghwa x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Survivors - @koyagifs firefighter!seonghwa x er nurse!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Tattoo Artist Seonghwa - @everyonewooeverywhere tattoo artist!seonghwa x reader (drabble) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Daddy’s Summer Fling - @mingi-s-dimples dilf!yunho x daughter’s best friend!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Don’t Hate The Player - @vampzity bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Livestream - @yunniverse bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Love Again - @xomakara single dad!yunho x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Lust & Love & Loss - @bananayuyu non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Nothing To Prove - @makeitmingi bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Pillow Princess - @look-at-the-way-i-ride bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 The Hills - @ateezscupid ex bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Snowflake - @mingi-s-dimples bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 You're Mine Baby - @wwooyology ex-bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Casting Couch - @kitten4sannie frat boy!san x reader ft. frat boy!yungi (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Spiderman - @koyagifs spiderman!san x reader ft.wooyoung (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Perfect Cocktail - @covenha best friend!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 This Is How I Flirt - @yothangie boxer!san x med student!reader (smau series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Wading In Wait - @pyeongstarr non-idol!san x yandere!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 By Her Side - @arilevenatz bodyguard!mingi x princess!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Little Doe - @bunnliix outlaw!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Me And My Wife - @koyagifs husband!idol!mingi x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Strangers By Nature - @seongwars heir!mingi x heri!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Your Secret Fan [Part One | Part Two] - @strrykais idol!mingi x idol!reader (smau) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Asking You To Be His Valentine's - @makeitmingi idol!single-dad!wooyoung x dance teacher!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Secret Santa - @dinossaurz bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Beauty of Us - @xuchiya bf!wooyoung x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Thrill Of The Chase - @wwooyology bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Vivrant Thing - @hwaslayer best friend's brother!wooyoung x reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Cozy Game Night - @03jyh23 bfjongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hand Marks - @vampzity ceo!husband!jongho x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Healthy Study Habits - @ohsoimaginari bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Part Of Your World - @makeitmingi bf!ceo!jongho x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Put The Book Down - @fivestaralien bf!jongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸

Ahhhhh, I love it! I love it! I love it! I’m just smiling at my phone over words, but it just so sweet!

I’m now craving some italian.

Hi, congrats on 300 followers. I have a prompt request for the celebration. I would like to request a one-shot of jongseob with the prompt from sweet "smiling during kisses".

I would also like to add that the reader be gender neutral. congratulations again on 300 followers! 🎉

hihi! thank you so much for participating, and sorry for the late, hope you like it <3 ; 1k wc ; fluff ; first time writing for soeb aaaa ; and credits to my fav proofreader @sobun1est

300 followers event 🎀

You notice the light of the candles as soon as you open the door of your house, taking the first step inside your apartment.

“I’m home!” you said.

Shortly after, called by your voice, you noticed Jongseob coming out of his room to come and welcome you.

That day was your anniversary; one year had passed since you had confessed your tender love and the "roommate" label had turned into lovers. You had just returned from the small pastry shop where you worked in the afternoons to save up for your studies, and with you, you had a large plastic bag containing your boyfriend’s favorite cake.

Although neither of you was swimming in gold, you were happy with your flat. So you gradually decorated it and created a small home with all the amenities you could want.

“Welcome back, honey” he said to you, coming closer to steal a kiss from you and helping with the bags.

While he went to put the cake in the refrigerator you moved towards the small room, from where a soft light came.

As soon as you entered, you noticed that many candles were placed throughout the room, and in the center, there was a carefully set table. The window was wide open, and the view was of the city illuminated by the few lights of the night.

On the table there were two glasses, and next to them a bottle of your favorite wine. The plates had light red and gold decorations, and the tablecloth and napkins followed that theme.

There was also your record player, who carefully selected the records that had accompanied your evenings throughout that year.

“Do you remember our first date?” the boy asked you as he entered the room.

“When we shared pizza, sitting on this sofa while we tried to guess about the lives of the passers-by under this balcony? How could I forget?” you asked him.

He nodded and moved in your direction, seemingly unable to resist his desire to be by you.

He took your face in his hands and soon joined your lips in a long kiss.

“How about we create a remix, maybe with a slight upgrade?” he asked you, looking you directly in the eyes.

“I would love it,” he replied, smiling.

Everything at that moment brought back memories of the first date, when after a year of living together, since you attended the same university, that boy had come forward to ask you to be together.

“Happy anniversary Seob”

“You too, love” he replied.

During your first date, while you were waiting for the food to come, the two of you sat on the couch. You could only gaze lovingly at Jongseob's slim physique as he was focused on the task at hand—he had stood up to begin the vinyl recordings.

During the first date, you were waiting for the pizza to be delivered, while now you were waiting for the lasagna - entirely cooked by Jongseob - to cook in the oven!

You had once expressed how much you would have liked to taste Italian food, so that's why he chose it for dinner.

He had carefully chosen the order of the music records to listen to, as he had presented them to you during your year together.

To ensure that everything looked its best in your eyes, he had even asked his mother to lend him some of the dish set that she had used for her wedding.

He had discovered your favorite flavor in candles, and in his pocket, he had a crumpled piece of paper with a short poem that he wanted to recite to you.

Now he was sitting next to you on the couch and was following the moves of the first date step by step. He had counted how many times your eyes had crossed, but like the first time, he had gotten lost in your eyes and had opted for a more direct approach.

He had turned to you while you were watching him the whole time - noticing how his face was bright and how he had changed in a year. You vividly remembered all the features of his face and how his expression had gone from full concentration to complete disorientation as soon as he had looked at you.

And now everything was happening again: your eyes had met, and the butterflies in your stomach had started to dance.

He had soon come dangerously close and had canceled the distances. Neither of you could hold back a smile, remembering your first kiss while you were living the umpteenth. Many quick kisses alternated with passionate ones while your bodies also got closer.

You took a brief break to let out some lovely laughs that blended in with the background music like they were the melody itself.

Smiles between the kisses, comforting scents, and the warmth of the bodies that united.

He had moved his hand from behind your neck to your hips- oh how he had become bolder.

You were facing him and found it difficult to keep your eyes closed, so now and again when he drew you away, you gave him a tiny peek.

You loved so much seeing that boy's face up close.

With an awkward and hesitant smile, he looked so attractive with the candles lighting him.

The first time you had been interrupted by the arrival of the delivery boy, while this time by a strange burning smell that began to spread from the kitchen.

As soon as it hit your boyfriend's nostrils, his eyes widened and he suddenly stood up.

"THE LASAGNA!" he said as he ran towards the kitchen.

You giggled as you moved to go and check it out too.

As soon as you arrived in the kitchen you saw him wearing two pink skates and an apron of the same color, as he took the lasagna out of the oven. He hadn't even taken the time to turn on the light, the light of the candles was enough; but he had chosen to wear the apron to avoid dirtying the outfit he had worked on to impress you.

Luckily the lasagna wasn’t burnt, but on the contrary, it had acquired a light crunchy crust that had made that dish even better.

You found yourselves shortly after at the table, savoring that delicious food while you remembered the times gone by, shared moments of the present, and fantasized about future experiences.

AYO FUCK MIKE, FUCK JINA, FUCK SEONGHWA, FUCK DANN, FUCK HONGJOONG, FUCK EVERYBODY, WE LOVE READER!

I’ve said this before, but dude…we have to kill Mike i’m so serious I need this man gone. Also I knew there was something up with Jina from the last chapter with the comment she made about reader.

I just need happiness for reader cause i’m losing it every time I see a new chapter posted. I’m very much enjoying it as I say after every chapter. Keep up the amazing work! <3

ps. It’s mostly likely because I don’t read everything and jump straight into the story, but why did I just notice it says love triangle in genre.

Popular, Boy

☆10: The first wound.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

Genre: +18, smut, slow burn, drama, angst, love triangle.

wc: 8,2k

Summary: A night that was meant to go one way takes a devastating turn. Tension rise, lines are crossed, and for the first time...

Doubt begins to surface in unexpected places.

Warnings: Verbal abuse, physical violence, cursing, angst.... a lot of angst.

an: Request are open! Feel free to request whatever you like (I just don't accept m×m requests)

Series masterlist Join the Taglist

☆09 ☆11: The first truth. Coming soon

It had been days since Hongjoong and you had spoken. Your fight at the club still lingered in the air like an unshakable fog, thick with tension and unresolved emotions.

At school, you acted as though the other didn’t exist, carefully avoiding eye contact, ignoring each other’s presence, and pretending like your worlds hadn’t once been intertwined.

Your friends noticed, but no one dared to bring it up—not when you were burying yourself in distractions, and not when Hongjoong looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But today, Hongjoong decided to end it.

During his shift at the café, his boss, Mr. Choi patted him on the back, a rare smile breaking his usually stern face.

“You’ve been working hard, kid. Take tomorrow off. Get some rest.”

Hongjoong blinks in surprise. He had expected to push through another exhausting shift, but this?

This is an opportunity, a chance to set things right.

As soon as he gets to the back room, he pulls out his phone and hesitates for a second. His fingers hover over your name before he finally taps on it.

Joongie♡: Hey..

He stares at the screen, wondering if you would ignore him. The three little dots appear almost instantly, then vanish, then appear again.

YN♡: What?

Hongjoong exhales. Short, cold, distant. He deserves that.

Joongie♡: I don’t like this. Us, being like this.

Joongie♡: I’ll explain everything. I swear.

Joongie♡: Let me make it up to you.

Another long pause. He can practically hear you scoffing at the message, debating whether you should even give him the time of day.

Then, finally you answer.

YN♡: Fine.

His heart lurches forward.

Joongie♡: Tomorrow. 7 PM. I’ll send you the address.

He searches for the perfect spot, something that isn't too extravagant but still special. A small, charming restaurant near the city’s main street catches his attention.

It was warm, cozy, and has the kind of atmosphere that feels... personal.

Perfect for what he needs to say.

Jina, behind him, narrows her eyes to get a look of what he is doing. She can see the contact name 'YN♡,' and then he sends a link.

Is he going on a date with that girl?

Without doing a sound, she gets back to her task.

Joongie♡: Sent.

Joongie♡: See you there, pretty.

No response, but you had read the message. Hongjoong put his phone down, exhaling deeply.

Tomorrow, he will fix things. He has to.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You stand in front of the mirror, carefully applying the finishing touches to your makeup over your bruised cheek. Your hands are steady, but inside, your heart is racing with anticipation.

Tonight, Hongjoong is finally going to explain everything. You had spent days drowning in frustration, confusion, and anger, but now, there is a chance to clear the air.

Tonight, everything will be fixed.

Tonight, Hongjoong would explain himself.

Tonight, he would tell you why he had been acting so distant, why he had been avoiding you after school, why he had refused to spend time with you.

He would make it up to you like he promised.

You adjust the delicate straps of your black dress, making sure everything is perfect. Your hair cascades over your shoulders in soft waves, and your lips are painted a deep shade of red—covering perfectly your broken lip—masking your vulnerability.

You take a step back, examining yourself with a critical eye. Stunning as always.

Hongjoong would see you and remember exactly why he had fought so hard to be with you.

Your phone buzzes on the vanity table. You grab it instantly, hoping it is Hongjoong confirming he is already there, waiting for you. But it is just a reminder from your driver.

With a sigh, you slip your phone into your designer purse and grab your coat. As you walk down the grand staircase of your home, you catch sight of Mike lounging in the living room, flipping through a magazine.

"Going somewhere?" He asks without looking up.

"Not that it's any of your business."

Mike smirks but doesn't push further. He simply leans back and watches as you disappear through the front door.

The car ride to the restaurant was quiet, giving you too much time to think.

Was Hongjoong nervous? Was that why he hadn't said much after sending you the address? You shook your head. No, tonight was about fixing things.

You wouldn’t let doubt ruin it.

The restaurant Hongjoong had chosen is small but elegant, tucked away near the city’s main street. Fairy lights hang across the windows, giving the place a warm, intimate glow. It’s a charming spot, perfect for a conversation that had been long overdue.

You walk in, heels clicking against the polished floor as you approach the host.

"Reservation under Kim Hongjoong." You say smoothly.

The host checks his list and nods "Ah, yes. Right this way, miss."

You follow him to a cozy table by the window, the perfect spot to watch the city’s nightlife unfold. You sit down, crossing your legs gracefully, and check your phone. No new messages.

You exhale, telling yourself that he would be here any second. You smooth out your napkin and glance at the entrance.

Your fingers tap against the polished wood, eyes flicking to the entrance every few seconds. Any moment now.

The waiter approaches “Would you like to order something while you wait?”

“I’ll wait,” You reply, forcing a polite smile “He’ll be here soon.”

The minutes drag on. The candle in the middle of the table flickers, barely illuminating the growing void in your chest.

7:15 PM.

You check your phone. No messages.

7:35 PM.

Your throat feels tight. You type a quick text.

YN♡: Are you on your way?

Sent. No response.

7:50 PM.

Your nails dig into your palm. You try not to look at the couples around you, laughing, talking, and enjoying their meals together. You try not to feel humiliated.

8:15 PM.

He 's not coming.

You blink, pushing back the sting behind your eyes. No. This isn’t happening, Hongjoong wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do this to you. Not after everything. Not after all the things he told you, the way he held you, the way he—

Your phone buzzes.

Finally.

You grab it instantly, hope swelling in your chest—until you see the sender.

Seonghwa.

You hesitate, then open the message. It 's a photo.

Your eyes open in surprise.

It’s Hongjoong.

Hongjoong in a different restaurant. Hugging a girl.

The image isn’t blurry. It isn’t vague.

They look comfortable, like he belongs there. Like this is his life, and you aren't in it.

Your chest caves in. The restaurant around you fades into nothing but muffle sounds and blurry lights.

Your phone slips from your fingers into the table, your vision blurry. A sharp inhale burns through your throat, but it doesn't bring any relief.

He… he really didn’t come.

He left you waiting, and he was with someone else.

You stand abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. You don’t care if people look. You don’t care about anything.

You grab your purse, leaving behind the perfectly set table, the unlit candle, the untouched hope you had carried with you.

The ride home was silent.

You walk through the front door in a daze, your heels clicking against the marble floor. No one is around. Good.

You climb the stairs to your bedroom, locking the door behind you. The moment you turn around, the weight of it all comes crashing down.

You clench your fists, willing yourself to breathe, to not care, to be the unbothered YN everyone expects you to be.

But you can’t.

Your knees give out.

And for the first time in years, you cry.

Not silent tears. Not a quiet sniffle.

You sob.

Your body curls in on itself, shaking, as raw, broken cries escape your lips. Your hands clutch at your dress, nails digging into the fabric as if holding into something—anything—would stop you from unraveling completely.

But there is nothing left to hold onto.

Hongjoong had taken everything.

The walls you had built. The pride you had carried. The belief that you could never be broken.

And yet, here you are.

Crying alone in the dark.

Like a fool.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Hongjoog is just about to leave his house, dressed in his best clothes, nervous yet excited. He has finally got a day off, and this is his chance to make things right with you.

He checks his phone again, seeing your last message confirming their date, and a small smile tugs at his lips. After everything, he is determined to fix this.

Then, his phone buzzes.

Jina: Kim, I need your help. It's urgent. I'm at the café. Please, just for a second.

Hongjoong frowns. Jina rarely texts him outside of work, and the urgency in her message makes him hesitate. He glances at the time—he has enough to swing by quickly, help her out, and still make it to the restaurant on time.

Hongjoong: What’s wrong?

Jina: Just come. Please. I really need you.

Sighing, he pockets his phone and hurries toward the café, telling himself it wouldn’t take long.

When he arrives at the cafe, Jina is waiting outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, an unreadable smirk on her lips.

“I thought something bad happened,” Hongjoong says, a little breathless.

Jina puts on a fake worried face “It did! Well, kind of. I locked myself out of the counter, and I left something really important inside. You’re the only one I know who might figure out how to open it without causing a scene.”

Hongjoong exhales sharply, checking the time. He still has time.

“Alright.”

She leads him inside, making sure to keep her pace slow, stalling as much as possible. When they reach the storage room, she hands him a thin wire.

“I saw you mess with one of these before. Think you can do it?”

He takes the wire, focusing as he tries to get the lock open. His brows furrowed as he works, unaware that Jina has discreetly pulled out her phone, sending a quick text.

Jina: He’s here. Keep watch.

Outside, a tall man leans casually against a lamppost near the café, watching through the window, waiting for the right moment.

Hongjoong is still working on the lock when Jina suddenly steps closer, pretending to peer over his shoulder. She tilts her head, letting her hair brush against him, positioning herself just right.

And then, right when she sees the man lift his phone, she leans in even more, her lips dangerously close to Hongjoong’s cheek.

“Almost there,” The man mutters, oblivious to how it looks from the outside.

The lock finally gives in, and Hongjoong straightens up, triumphant.

“There, it’s open.”

Jina beam “You’re a lifesaver!” She says, throwing her arms around him in an exaggerated hug.

And just like that, flash—The man captures the perfect shot. From the angle he took it, it looked exactly like they were sharing an intimate moment.

Hongjoong checks the time again and feels his stomach drop. He had stayed way longer than he meant to.

“Shit, I have to go,” He says, pulling away from Jina’s hold.

Jina pouts, but inwardly she is smirking “Leaving already? Come on, stay for a drink. It’s not like you’re in a rush.”

“I am in a rush,” He snaps, already heading for the door.

Jina watches him go, waiting until he is far enough before pulling out her phone and sending a message.

Jina: Done. He’s on his way, but I made sure he’s late.

The reply is instant.

Bastard Park: Perfect. Time to deliver the final blow.

With a satisfied smirk, he sends the picture to you.

And just like that, the trap is complete.

✮ ⋆

As soon as Hongjoong steps out of the café, he pulls out his phone to check the time—and his heart plummets.

It was way past the time he was supposed to meet you.

“Shit,” He mutters under his breath, breaking into a sprint toward the restaurant.

His mind races, a thousand apologies already forming in his head. Maybe you are still there, waiting. Maybe he can explain. Maybe you’d understand.

But when he arrives, the small restaurant is nearly empty. The table he had reserved was cleared, no sign of you anywhere.

Hongjoong’s chest tightens. He runs a hand through his hair, breath still uneven as he turns in all directions, hoping—praying—that you are just running late too.

He pulls out his phone to call you, but there is no answer. He tries again.

Straight to voicemail.

He knows he needs to find you, to explain. But deep down, something tells him that the damage is already done.

And this time, he doesn’t know if he can fix it.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You barely sleep, your body is exhausted, but your mind is restless. You hadn’t felt this empty in years, the heaviness of betrayal dragging you into a deep, silent pit.

The house is quiet as you sit down for breakfast, your eyes barely lifting from your plate. Your mother sits across from you, picking at her food.

“Sweetie,” Your mother calls softly, breaking the silence “Have you heard from Hongjoong?”

Your chest tightens at the mention of his name, the flash of the photo still burning in your mind. You don’t want to talk about him—not today.

Not after everything that happened last night.

“Please don’t.” You mutter under your breath, pushing your plate aside, and voice cracking from the strain of holding back the flood of emotions.

Your mother raises an eyebrow, confused “What do you mean?”

You snap, your patience finally unraveling “Don’t ask me about him, I don't want to talk about him.”

Your voice comes out sharp, harder than you meant, but it was too late to take the words back.

Your mother’s face stiffs, hurt flashing in her eyes “Sweetie, what's going on? Something happened between you or—”

“I don’t want to hear his fucking name, again!” You spit, not caring if you are crossing a line.

The silence in the room grows thick and heavy. Mike, who had been leaning against the kitchen door frame, watching the scene unfold, finally speaks up, his voice cold and sharp, a sign of his anger brewing beneath the surface.

“Watch your mouth, YN,” He growls “You think you can talk to our mother like that?”

Your eyes flick to your brother. There it is. The fury in his gaze is palpable, and you know what is coming.

He always had a short temper, and whenever things didn’t go his way, he couldn’t control his rage.

And every person in this family knows it.

"Mind your own fucking business, Mike."

“That’s it,” Mike snarls, his hand gripping your arm with force making you gasp in pain “You think you can speak to me like that in front of our mother? You’re just as worthless as I always knew.”

“Mike, stop!” Your mother shouts, but it’s too late.

Mike drags you by the arm, the grip tight and punishing, as he pulls you toward the stairs. You struggle against him, your heels slipping on the marble floor, but Mike’s anger is a force that can’t be ignored.

Your parents’ voices ring out from behind, frantic and desperate.

“Mike, let her go! This is insane!”

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t care. The only thing that matters is the fury building inside him, and he isn’t about to stop.

Due to the screaming scandal, the employees and even Dann left their duties to see what is happening to the Clarke family.

“Mike! What are you doing?” Your mother shouts, but Mike doesn't respond.

He is beyond words now, his anger blinding him, consuming him.

Your vision blurs with anger and pain, you want to scream, to lash out, but you can’t. You can’t do anything except let him drag you up the stairs, your feet barely touching the steps.

Dann stands in the hallway, frozen, her wide eyes lock on the scene. She can hear her heart thumping in her chest, but she can’t bring herself to move, to intervene.

What is he doing? What’s happening?

Before everyone can react, your scream resonates in the immense house.

“Let go of me!” You scream, trying to break free, but his hand is like a vice around your arm. It’s raw, desperate.

Dann’s stomach lurch as the scream echoes in her ears. The sound of footsteps grows louder, and desperate shouts. Her breath hitches, she isn't the type to get involved, but this time she moves instinctively, stepping behind Clarke's family and some other maids.

“Mike, stop! What are you doing?!”

It’s your mother’s voice. Desperate.

With one swift motion, Mike shoves you into your room and slams the door, locking it behind him, the sound of it echoing through the house.

Dann’s gaze flicks towards the other maids, all of them looking as stunned as her, eyes wide with fear unsure if they should help or stay away from this.

Your parents’ frantic knocks fill the air.

“Mike, open this door right now!” Your father screams.

“Calm down, and stop this!” Your mother cries out.

But Mike is past caring. The door remains shut.

Inside, the room feels suffocating. Mike’s eyes are wild, his hands trembling with rage as he advances on you.

You back away, trying to create distance, but he is too fast.

His fist connects with your face in a brutal slap, sending you stumbling back into the wall. The sharp pain blooms on your cheek, but it’s nothing compared to the twisted fury that burns in his eyes.

“Why do you always act like you're better than everyone?” Mike hisses, his voice low and venomous “You think you can get away with everything? I hate you. I hate everything about you.”

You try to steady yourself, the tears threatening to spill, but you refuse to let him see you break.

You wipe your mouth, your body shaking with suppressed anger “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?!”

Mike’s eyes flares with rage “I don’t need a fucking reason!” He screams back, his foot crashing into your leg, sending you collapsing into the floor “You’re nothing but a spoiled, ungrateful little bitch.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You try to scramble away from him, but he’s relentless, towering over you, his rage completely uncheck.

“You’re sick! Stop this shit, Mike!”

The words only seem to make him angrier. He leans down, grabbing you by the hair and yanking your head back.

“I’m the one in control here,” He snarls “And you’re nothing.”

✩

Outside the room, the sound from inside—yelling, screams, and the harsh, guttural thudding of fists—is unmistakable and your parents continue to knock, their voices becoming more desperate by the second.

“Please help me open the door!”

The head of the family screams to the staff around when the noise intensifies as Mike shouts again, this time inaudible, followed by the sickening sound of something crashing. Dann freezes, her feet rooted to the floor.

“Mike, please!” Your mother cries, her voice trembling “You need to stop! This isn’t the way! Please—!”

Dann’s breath hitches in her throat as she sees your mother, looking frantic, her face pale with fear.

Your father is right behind her, both of them calling Mike’s name, their voices pleading, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

“Mike open the fucking door!” He shouts again, his voice no longer calm but desperate.

He bangs his fist against the wood, as if trying to break it open, but it doesn’t work. The door doesn’t budge.

Everyone can hear your muffled screams from inside. They are weak, strain, each one like a stab to the chest.

Dann is shocked, she hadn’t heard you like this before—not ever. You were usually strong, always the one who stood tall, the queen bee who ruled every room she entered.

To hear you reduced to this? It 's too much.

“Let me in!” Your mother pleads, the desperation in her voice rising.

But Mike remains silent behind the door. Then, a sickening crash. The sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

Dann’s hands tremble as she grabs the edge of the railing, her thoughts spinning. She wants to run, to leave, to shut her eyes and pretend she didn’t hear the violence unfolding in your room.

She wants to be anywhere but here.

But there is something else in her chest—something that feels like guilt. A pang of regret so sharp it made her chest ache.

She had helped Mike. She had been a part of his anger, his manipulation. She had stood by and allowed him to act like this, but now, seeing you suffer...

For the first time, Dann wonders if she’d made a terrible mistake. She knew that Mike was rigorous, but this? This is beyond anything she had expected.

“Please, Mike. Open the door! You’re hurting her! Don’t you see what you’re doing?”

Dann could hear the desperation in their voice. Your father—who always seemed so in control, so unwavering—is breaking down.

But still, Mike doesn’t respond.

✩

A bitter smirk curls on your lips. Even as pain burns through your body, you refuse to look away.

"You’re in control? Why didn't you say the same to Hannah?"

The air in the room shatters.

Everything stops.

Mike’s breath stills. His grip on your hair freezes.

Then, without warning—

His hands snap around your throat.

The force slams your head against the floor. White bursts across your vision, pain shooting through your skull. His fingers dig into your skin, cutting off your air in an instant.

Your body jerks, instincts taking over as your hands claw at his wrists, but he doesn’t budge.

"Don’t—" His voice is raw, feral. "—say her fucking name!"

Your lungs burn, chest heaves, but nothing comes in.

You can’t breathe.

A choked, gurgling sound escapes your lips.

For the first time—true, undiluted fear slams into you.

This time, he’s really going to kill you.

✩

The muffled sounds of struggle are alarming enough. But the silence that follows—the eerie, heavy pause—makes Dann’s stomach drop.

She lingers in the hallway with the other maids, hushed whispers mixing with the tense air. The entire house staff is frozen, eyes darting toward the closed door..

Then she hears it—

A sharp thud. A desperate, choking gasp. And the suffocating, terrifying silence.

Just as she is about to move and help, one big man that she never saw before, shoves her aside, frantically searching for something, anything, to break the door down.

“Get back!” He shouts, and then with a final, desperate push, he manages to get the door open.

The sight that greeted them inside is nothing short of horrific.

Mike is on top of you, his hands wrapped around your throat. Your body jerks violently, fingers clawing at his arms, legs kicking weakly against the floor trying to fight back, but his strength is above yours.

Everyone's face turned a terrifying shade of red.

"Oh my god..." Dann breathes, horror flooding her veins.

This is not what she signed up for. She wanted to hurt you, to knock you down from your pedestal, to humiliate you. But this?

This is fucking murder.

Your eyes are wide, body twitching, struggling to hold on.

And Dann’s stomach twists violently at the sight.

"Mike, stop!" Your mother screams.

He doesn’t flinch. His grip doesn’t loosen. His body doesn’t move. It’s like he’s completely gone.

You let out a strangled, rasping noise. Your movements are slowing.

Dann’s heart slams against her ribs. He’s really going to kill you. But she can't move… she can't do anything.

Desperate, your father and some male staff lunges forward and grabs at Mike’s arms, trying to yank him away.

"You’re going to kill her!" Your mother sobs, panic clawing at her throat.

Nothing.

Mike doesn’t even acknowledge her. His expression is blank—twisted—like he isn’t even there anymore.

Suddenly, your body stops jerking.

Panic shoots through everyone in the room.

And Dann doesn’t think—she just acts.

With everything she has, she runs to where the scene is happening and sinks her nails into Mike’s wrist and bites down on his arm, hard.

Mike roars in pain. His grip finally snaps open, and your body heaves as air rushes back into your lungs.

You collapse onto the floor, coughing violently, gasping for breath.

"Sweetie! Get out of my way, Mike!” Your mother says, her voice icy as she moves to check on you.

But Mike doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching them all like they are beneath him.

“My baby…” She cries, pulling you to her lap.

Mike stumbles back, chest heaving. His dazed expression flickers between confusion and rage, pupils blown wide.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Your father shrieks, voice shaking "You almost killed her!"

Mike barely even looks at him "She deserved it."

The words hit Dann like a slap.

She stumbles back, unable to speak. Her thoughts racing, but none of them make sense.

She had never seen Mike like this before. She had never seen him hurt anyone like this before. The boy who had always been tough—yes—but this? This is something else.

“You crossed the line, Mike!!” This time your mother shouts.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” He mutters, voice low and trembling.

Dann’s legs give way, and she sinks to the floor, tears spilling down her face.

She had helped him. She had believed in him.

But now, in the midst of all this chaos, she realizes that she has been wrong. She has been an accomplice in something that she can't even begin to justify.

Dann can’t help but feel the full weight of what she has done—the guilt, the shame, and the realization that she has let the worst happen under her watch.

A tall man rushes in, followed by security, followed by more maids whispering in hushed, horrified tones.

The room erupts into chaos.

Dann reaches out, hands trembling as she tries to touch you, to help you.

But you, still coughing, still shaking, slap her hand away.

"Don’t touch me." You rasp, voice hoarse.

Even in your state you seek to be closer to your mother, and so you do, you get closer until her arms are tightly around you. You turn slightly, looking straight at Mike.

Your expression is unreadable, your lips are swollen, skin bruised, but your eyes—

Your eyes are filled with something deadly.

And then you do something that makes Dann’s blood freeze.

You smile.

It’s slow, broken—full of bitter, quiet rage.

"Now that was dramatic," Your rasp voice is laced with mockery "All because of a name?"

Mike’s face twists. For a second, he looks like he might attack again. But security grabs him, forcing him back.

Your mother turns to the guards, voice sharp with panic "Get him out of here!"

Mike thrashes for a moment, then suddenly stills. His expression remains unreadable, but his eyes stay locked on you.

And for the first time since the night began—

Dann sees fear in them.

You have won.

Not by fighting back. Not by screaming.

But by surviving.

And as you sit there in your mother's arms, breathless, broken, smiling—Dann realizes something terrifying.

It’s not the first time this has happened.

Your way of acting is not in accordance with what has just happened. It's almost like you're used to it by now.

And she is sure that you aren't going to let this go. You’re going to destroy him.

And Dann?

Dann just picked the losing side.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The mansion is eerily quiet after the chaos. The tension lingers like an unshakable presence, seeping into every corner of the house.

You sit on your massive bed, your mother beside you, dabbing a cold cloth against your bruised throat. The older woman’s hands tremble slightly, her usual composure cracked by today’s events.

Your father stands near the window, arms crossed, his face unreadable as he stares outside.

In the kitchen, the maids whisper in hushed voices, and their faces pale as they recount what had just transpired.

Dann sits frozen with her mother at her side, both overwhelmed by what they’ve learned.

"This isn't the first time," One of the older maids murmurs "Mister Mike has always had... temper issues. But he used to just slap Miss YN when they argued. Never like this. Never... this violent."

Dann’s breath catches in her throat. Slaps? Before he left for Germany? Her stomach churns. She was aware of Mike being intense, but she never considered that he might have actually hurt you before today.

Another maid, older and wise beyond her years, sighs, shaking her head.

"I remember the last time it happened. Miss YN didn't cry. She never does. She just took it, and when he was gone, she smiled like nothing had happened. But this time... this time was different. He went too far."

“Our little girl it’s been through a lot because of her brother.”

Dann’s mother tightens her grip on Dann’s arm, impressed by the information. Never in all her years of working for the upper class had she witnessed such a scene

Therefore, Dann keeps thinking about your reaction—about the way you smiled. A slow, broken, bitter smile that sent chills down her spine.

You weren't just going to let this go.

✮ ⋆

Inside your room, you finally move. You reach for your phone with shaky fingers and open a group chat that only has two contacts—Wooyoung and Mindy.

YN♡: It 's happening again.

A few seconds later, they respond.

Babe Min: That motherfucker!

Brat Woo: We’re on our way, babydoll.

You smile, click out of the chat, and call one of the maids who usually attends the front door.

"Do not let anyone in except Wooyoung and Mindy. No one. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss YN."

You sigh, exhausted. Your phone keeps buzzing—dozens of missed calls and messages from Hongjoong since yesterday night.

Joongie♡: YN, please answer me.

Joongie♡: Let me explain everything to you.

Joongie♡: Please, pretty. I’m so sorry.

You stare at the screen before shutting your phone off entirely. You aren't in the mood to talk to him.

Not now. Not today.

You lean back against the pillows, your fingers grazing the bruises on your neck.

You close your eyes.

Mike had made a mistake today, and you aren't going to let this go.

✮ ⋆

When Mindy and Wooyoung arrived, they didn't need anyone to guide them through your house. They had been here a thousand times before—through grand parties, sleepovers, and nights of shared secrets.

But today, the air feels different. Heavy. The grandeur of the mansion, usually welcoming in its cold luxury, seems suffocating.

The maids barely acknowledge them as they walk in, a clear sign of the chaos that had unfolded just hours ago. Wooyoung gives a small nod to one of the familiar staff members, but she only bows slightly before hurrying away.

Neither him nor Mindy speak as they ascend the wide marble staircase. They know where to find you.

Your room is at the end of the hall, the massive double doors usually standing slightly ajar when you are in a good mood.

Today, they are shut tight. Wooyoung and Mindy exchange a look before Mindy knocks lightly.

No answer.

Woo sighs, twisting the handle and pushing the door open.

The dim lighting cast soft shadows across the space, the only source of real illumination being the faint glow from the lamp by the bed. You are lying there, curled on your side, back to the door.

You aren't asleep. They can tell by the way your shoulders tensed slightly at the sound of them entering.

Mindy walks over first, sitting on the edge of the bed. Wooyoung follows, standing at the foot, arms crossed.

“Babe,” Mindy says softly.

For a moment, it seemed like you wouldn’t answer. Then, your voice came, quiet but steady.

“It happened again.”

Mindy and Wooyoung share a glance. They know exactly what you meant.

Wooyoung clenches his jaw “Tell us everything.”

You inhale deeply before rolling onto your back, staring at the ceiling. They look in horror at the bruises that cover your neck and the slight wounds on your face.

This went beyond what it usually was.

“Since he returned.” You start, voice eerily calm “He has done nothing but make horrible comments and make my life almost impossible.”

Woo exhales sharply. He had always known about Mike’s temper, but hearing you say it so plainly—so matter-of-factly—makes his stomach churn.

Mindy, quiet and attentive, reaches for your hand “When was the first one?”

You let out a dry chuckle “A month ago at his party, after his grandiose speech I went out to the courtyard to smoke a little.”

Mindy nods, her grip tightening “That night?”

“He caught me, and slapped me across the face like I was some misbehaving child,” You say bitterly “He said I was embarrassing him and our family.”

Wooyoung swears under his breath, pacing slightly.

“Then the next time, someone sent him a video of me smoking weed at the club a couple of days ago. I dont know who the fuck sent him that, we were the only ones in the vip room. Anyways; he cornered me when I arrived, and called me a cheap whore, and when I talked back—” You gesture vaguely at your cheek “Another fucking slap.”

Mindy’s jaw tightened “I didn't believe your story of falling on the stairs at all, I already suspected that Mike had done something. Why didn't you just tell me that my suspicions were correct, YN?”

You shrug “Not like you could have stopped him.”

Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, frustrated “But today—today was different, wasn’t it? He's slapped you before, but this is being a fucking asshole.”

Silence stretches between them, thick with unspoken words. Then, you sit up slightly, your tone shifting.

“And as if that wasn’t enough, Hongjoong has been acting differently, too.”

Mindy frowns, nodding “We have noticed, what's wrong with him?”

You scoff “Since I gave him a chance and since we fucked.” You scoff “The stupid rumor at school became true.”

Wooyoung raises a brow, but says nothing.

“He’s been weird. Distant sometimes. Sweet other times. I don’t know what to make of it,” You admit, frustration creeping into your voice “And then yesterday, he invited me on a date to explain everything, but never showed up.”

Mindy’s brows furrow “Did he say why?”

“No… But Seonghwa sent me something.”

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, unlock it, and hand it to them. On the screen is a picture—a blurry yet unmistakable image of Hongjoong in a café, hugging a girl.

Wooyoung stiffs immediately, his eyes narrowing “That place… that’s a café Hwa likes to go to.”

“You recognize it?”

Wooyoung nods slowly, his mind working “And that girl… she looks familiar.”

Mindy leans in, squinting “Where do you know her from?”

Wooyoung exhales, rubbing his temple “I don’t know. I know that she works in that cafe, I've seen her elsewhere, but I can’t remember where.”

You groan in frustration, flopping back onto the bed “Great.”

Mindy places a hand on your arm. “Babe… Do you think Seonghwa is messing with you? It’s strange that he sent you that photo.”

“Maybe. But I don’t trust Hongjoong either.”

Woo crosses his arms “So what now?”

You turn your head to look at both of them “Now?” A slow, bitter smirk spreads across your face “Now, I play my own game. Woo, I need you to go to that place and find out who that slut is. Also, try to remember where you've seen her.”

“Got it, babydoll.” He nods with a sly smile.

“Babe, try to find who sent that video to Mike and have Seonghwa in your sight… I don't know why, but since you said he talked with Dann at the party, it concerned me.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

“Thanks, guys. For everything.” You say sincerely as you open your arms.

They smile as they lean in, carefully embarrassing you in a hug.

“No worries, babydoll. We will help you with that fucking brother you have.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Hongjoong stands outside the grand gates of Clarke’s estate, his hands clenches into fists. The cold iron bars seem more impenetrable than ever, as if they are physically barring him from your life.

He has been trying to reach you all week, but every call went to voicemail. Every text remained unanswered.

He exhales sharply and walks up to the main entrance, where one of the maids, an older woman with a neutral expression, steps forward to greet him.

“Hi, Can I see YN?” He asks politely, although he already knows what answer he will receive.

The maid hesitates before giving a slight bow “I’m sorry, but Miss YN has ordered that no visitors be allowed.”

His jaw tightens “I just need five minutes, I really need to talk to her.”

The maid’s face remains unreadable, she has seen him almost every day this week and he is still firm on seeing you.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

Frustration surges through him “Can you at least give her a message? Tell her I—”

“She will not receive messages either.”

Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He had expected you to be upset, but not to shut him out completely.

He wasn’t giving up. Digging into his pocket, he pulls out a small, carefully wrapped box.

“Fine,” He mutters “At least, can you give her this, please?”

The maid hesitates before nodding, taking the gift from him. Without another word, she turns and disappears into the house.

Hongjoong stands there for a moment longer, hoping—praying—that you would change your mind and come to see him. But the doors remain closed.

With a frustrated sigh, he turns and walks away.

He is not going to give up.

✮ ⋆

When you receive the package, you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at it in silence.

A gift.

Just like every time your parents had done something wrong, and instead of real apologies, they showered you with expensive gifts to make up for it.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a small charm—a butterfly.

It 's beautiful and thoughtful, but it isn’t what you need.

Tears prick your eyes as you set the necklace down beside you, your stomach twisting with a familiar pain.

You close your eyes, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

You aren’t going to let yourself be bought by him.

Not Hongjoong.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Dann grips the strap of her bag tightly as she stands in the empty hall of the big house, her heart hammering.

Mike leans against the grand piano, his usual mask of cold confidence in place, fingers lazily tapping against the polished wood.

“I was wondering when you’d stop avoiding me,” He says casually, though there’s a sharpness underneath.

Dann swallows “I wasn’t—”

He tilts his head, cutting her off “You were.” His eyes narrow “And I don’t like being ignored.”

Dann clenches her fists “What do you want?”

Mike’s lips curve into something that might look like a smile to someone who didn’t know better.

“What do you think I want? I want you to stop acting like you suddenly grew a conscience.”

Dann’s throat tightens “YN didn’t deserve that. You—”

“I what?” His voice turns ice-cold, and he pushes off the piano, stepping toward her “Are you going to tell me what a monster I am, Dann? How unfair I was to my dear little sister?” His voice drips with mockery.

Dann takes a step back. Mike watches her with something like amusement, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s not forget our arrangement.” Dann stiffens “In case you need reminding,” He continues smoothly, “My parents gave your mother a job, and I'm the reason your scholarship even exists. And just as easily as I gave you all of that…” His voice lowers, full of quiet threat “I can take it all away.”

Dann’s breath catches “You wouldn’t.”

Mike raises an eyebrow “Wouldn’t I? You see what happened to YN. right?”

Silence stretches between them, suffocating. Dann feels like she’s being held under water, forced to swallow the reality of her situation.

“…What do you want me to do?” She finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles again “That’s more like it. Start finding more info about YN, I don't care what, but give me something to make her break completely.” Dann feels sick, she meets Mike’s expectant gaze “Find out what you can, and make sure you tell me first.”

Dann exhales shakily, she has no choice.

At school, she feels lost, she feel like throwing up everytime she thinks of Mike and his threats. How did you handle him all these years?

Her stomach churns.

She should have expected this. She did expect this. Mike was never going to let her walk away. But after what he did to you… after what she helped him do…

Her hands shake. She tells herself she didn’t really have a choice. That it wasn’t her who locked you in that room, who let that horrible scene unfold.

But wasn’t it?

Wasn’t she the one who fed Mike information in the first place? The one who stood by while you screamed on the other side of that door?

A lump forms in her throat, and she presses her back against the cold metal lockers, squeezing her eyes shut.

You didn’t deserve that.

You, who—despite everything—have a reason to act like you do.

And now, Mike wanted her to do it all over again.

A soft laugh escapes her, bitter and humorless. She thought this deal with Seonghwa was her using him, that she was playing the game instead of being a pawn.

But the truth is…

She was never going to win against people like them.

But here she is, throwing you to the wolves.

Again.

But if she doesn’t her mother loses her job. Her scholarship is gone. Everything she fought for—everything she sacrificed—wasted.

A deep, shuddering breath. Dann closes her eyes.

I’m sorry, YN.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Taglist: @m0onchild-98 @domfikeluva @l0vjoongie @mrskill2 @stayatinykatsy @badbitch69420sworld @lunaryoongie @certifiedmoa @jilxxasu @alliecoady98 @maidens-world @Lemonkait00 @yulsr @justconniez @luvvvash @zaynsfl4m3s @nkryuki @boomzen @silenttrxxs @blue5ummer @khaskl08 @unbroken-shadows @vnxlla @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @milliesupremexx @xh01bri @a-atiny_niawoo @winterstuf @lezleeferguson-120 @beabatiny @yothangie @lover-of-fics @mingipessego @Ycuhugi @posseup @0407files @cheolright @yeorisanaxox @innocygnet @a-tiny-thing @sannieily @maplelilly05 @ddeonugu @niaee @yunhogrippers @unbroken-shadows

☆○☆○☆○

All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼

𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Hey, are you busy right now? - @skrrts ot8 x reader (drabble series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Home Is - @skrrts hyung line x reader (one-shot series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 How They Fell For You - @atzloverr yandere!ot8 x reader (scenarios) 𓆞 𓆞 If Something Chases You, Run - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!matz x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Innocent Touch - @yeopoet hyung line x reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Heart Art & Rain - @skrrts non-idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Helping Hand - @mulloey producer!hongjoong x singer!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Highway to Cloud Nine - @orshii biker!non-idol!hongjoong x mechanic!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Hongjoong Spending That Song Writing Money On You - @m1ngkis bf!idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hongjoong Relieving Some Stress For You - @m1ngkis bf!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓆞 Mommy Issues - @smuttaburger bf!idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Open Wide | Swallow - @hausofwoo bartender!seonghwa x server!reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Piece By Piece - @emeraldelysian bf!seonghwa x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Prefects And T(h)reats - @pirateprincessblog slytherin!seonghwa x hufflepuff!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 She'll Chew You Up - @h4untedgrl non-idol!seonghwa x maneater!reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 This Might be Love - @03jyh23 non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy | Horses Are Still Overrated - @yunhoszn cowboy!yunho x city girl!reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Sober - @beenbaanbuun bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Sugar - @mingoooossii bf!yunho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Bus At 11:17 | The Date At 11:17 - @skrrts non-idol!yunho x reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Duality - @naybii bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 La Douleur Exquise - @ja3hwa ghost!yeosang x witch!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 My Doll - @h4untedgrl bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 What’s Your Favorite Movie? - @tinybeetiny ghostface!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Took Me To The Stars - @shixcherie theater actor!yeosang theater actress!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Little Shop On 8th Street - @jeonginslefthand flower shop owner!san x reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Love Beyond Barriers - @catsannie non-idol!san x reader (smau series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 My Angel - @seongsangssbitch military general!san x goddess!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 PTA Parent - @pyramid-of-starrs dad!san x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Safe Habor - @cocobeanncteez attorney!san x ceo!reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓆞 Rings of Temptation - @crimsonbubble bf!mingi x reader (thoughts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Six Foot Savior - @smuttaburger non-idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Then, Now, And Always! - @alxtiny idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Princess Treatment Chronicles! | The Return Of The Princess Treatment Chronicles?! - @yuyusuyu best friend!non-idol!mingi x non-idol!reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Under The Sheets - @k-hotchoisan bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 I'm Not Getting It. - @darlingsaybonvoyage best friend!wooyoung x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Miles Across - @callmeagardengnome idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Only Mine, My Darling - @tinyidle non-idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Secrets And Stars - @maltesejjong fiancé!non-idol!wooyoung x reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Stay Back, I Bite - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!wooyoung x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Random Bf!Ateez Texts - @hwamphwamp bf!jongho x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Untitled - @bombuni bf!jongho x reader (drabble) 𓆞 𓆞 Very Demure - @pyramid-of-starrs bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Warm - @beenbaanbuun bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Zemblanity - @in-san-ity mafia!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞

ANOTHER UPDATE! COME ON WE’RE BACK!!!

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Eleven: You Wonder why I’m Bitter

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 8.2k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Alone and aching for the connection that once felt so natural, you reluctantly turn to an unlikely companion: Pompidou, who listens to you pour out all the longing you’ve fought so hard to bury. While you grapple with the emptiness left by Hongjoong’s sudden withdrawal, he, too, finds himself lost, wrestling with the very feelings he’s tried to deny. Haunted by memories and choices he can’t quite reconcile, Hongjoong is caught between the familiarity of the past and the confusing reality of the present.

a/n: was supposed to upload this on the 27th cause that’s my birthday but i just can’t wait any longer 😅 keep an eye out for the littlest of details because nothing is as it seems in this chapter :P lmk what you guys think!

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl

First of all, I hate myself. Second of all, I hate myself. Oh, and did I already mention that I hate myself? I just don’t know what to do anymore! It feels like it’s been a whole decade ever since I last picked up a pen to scribble on this godforsaken journal… I wish I could just go back to the time I was writing the page behind the one I’m writing on right now and just cancel my flight to Paris. This is all so frustrating, you know? Fashion Week is nearing, and I am not prepared at all—no, not even a little. I’m supposed to be spending my hours inside the studio practicing runway walks and testing out facial expressions, but no! I’m way too afraid of crossing paths with Hongjoong to even think about the consequences of not taking my preparations seriously! And speaking of Hongjoong…

He’s driving me to the edge of my sanity. I don’t know what’s going on with him—okay, scratch that, I definitely do. I just don’t get why he’s acting so avoidant all of a sudden… I mean, like, okay, I would understand his unprovoked need for distance between us if we actually kissed that night, but we didn’t. The farthest step we were able to take was just him holding onto the sides of my face and me looking at his lips like I’m a starved dog looking at its first meal of the day before Wooyoung fortunately interrupted us—so why is he acting up?

He’s like one of those girls you’d befriend in highschool who’d show up on the hallways suddenly judging your entire soul on a random Wednesday, and I don’t like it. Seriously, what’s his problem? He made me accustomed to his usual sweet and caring persona, and all of a sudden, he wants to act like this? What have I done wrong? Wasn’t it literally him who initiated the… whatever I’m supposed to call what happened that night?

I’m just concerned, you know. It’s been two weeks, and yet he’s still avoiding me like I’m the plague. I haven’t been receiving any messages from him at all lately, either. Even Madame Dupont is asking me why she no longer sees the “small young handsome boy” waiting for me outside the apartment building while leaning against his car. Wooyoung’s been trying to persuade me into confirming his theory that Hongjoong and I are going through a lovers’ quarrel for three days now, too. And guess who’s the most troubled of them all? Seonghwa. He’s been doing his best to put us back into speaking terms for a while now, and I don’t know why—I swear I didn’t ask him to do that.

Everyone is worried. Everyone but him.

You know, this brings me back to that unrecognizable faceless guy I see in some of my blurry flashbacks. I remember him asking me how long I’ve been bottling up my emotions, and when I told him I’ve been doing so for pretty much my entire life, he told me to consider writing in a journal.

What does the unrecognizable dude have to do with Hongjoong and his unreadable behavior? Nothing.

I just noticed that it’s been a while since I last wrote a journal entry, and… it’s been a while since I last let my emotions unravel. I remember the words that came out of his mouth that day.

“When you can’t figure out what you’re feeling, or if you need to let it all out, the only thing you have to do is pull this out along with a pen, and from then on, you can start writing away. Let yourself get lost in your own world.”

You know what, in a way, I think he and Hongjoong actually have something in common. I know I can’t say much because I only have one memory of this guy, but he spoke with as much wisdom as Hongjoong does. Also… “let yourself get lost in your own world.” That’s honestly the most Hongjoong-ish advice someone could ever give, given how he himself gets lost in his own world of artistry, too.

I just wish he’d stop ignoring me. I can’t help but feel like this is all somehow my fault… Am I just hurting myself by expecting things to suddenly go back to the way they used to be?

As you closed your journal with a weary sigh, your eyes drifted to the dim glow of your bedside clock reading 2:37 a.m. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of distant traffic, yet you felt far from at peace. It was a night for sleep, yet your mind wouldn’t quiet; thoughts of Hongjoong twisted and turned within you, refusing to settle.

“Why does it feel like this?” you murmured, pressing your palms into your face, as if that could somehow soothe the ache in your chest. You longed for comfort, for answers, even for a brief respite from the confusion that had become your constant companion. “If only that faceless guy could telepathically whisper some words of wisdom to me right now…”

Two weeks had passed since you last shared any words with Hongjoong—two weeks where every glance, every passing moment, felt laced with an unspoken tension that only deepened the rift between you. It was all becoming painfully real, the shift so clear to everyone around you. But no one knew the truth—the moment you almost kissed, the silent proximity that had left you dizzy and wondering. Even Seonghwa, in his genuine concern, couldn’t know the pang of vulnerability that had filled that night, the fear and excitement mingling as you’d come closer than ever before.

Your mind flashed back to the other day when the ache of his absence had been sharpest. You passed by him in a hallway, hoping for a flicker of his usual warmth, his soft gaze that once reassured you of your place in his world. But he’d brushed past with such indifference—not even nodding to acknowledge your presence, a chill in his demeanor that left you hollow. And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving you alone with a rising sense of loss.

Without thinking, you picked up your phone and opened your gallery. Photos of Hongjoong filled your screen, and your eyes drift over candid snapshots—some of you and Hongjoong working late in the studio, others of him laughing or looking thoughtful, moments caught by your camera that now feel like glimpses into another lifetime. There’s a picture of him outside your apartment building, waving you goodbye one evening. Another shot of him hunched over his desk in concentration, unaware that you’d snapped the photo from across the room. Then, there’s a particularly precious one of the two of you, taken in his office—which was likely Wooyoung’s doing.

As you scroll, an ache blossoms within you, spreading in slow, insistent waves that make your chest feel tight. You can feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, and it catches you off guard. Why now? Why does he, of all people, have this power over you? You swipe at the tears, frustrated by the sudden swell of emotion. It’s not supposed to be like this, you tell yourself. Hongjoong is supposed to be your friend, your mentor, the one person in Paris who helped you find your footing when everything felt foreign. But as the images blur beneath the glisten of unshed tears, you can’t help but wonder if that’s all he’ll ever be—someone whose warmth once felt like home, and whose absence now feels like a loss you’re not ready to face.

The soft scratching at your window pulls you abruptly from your thoughts. For a moment, you freeze, glancing back at the phone you’d just placed on your desk. Carefully, you grab your journal—a flimsy defense, maybe, but it’s better than nothing. Heart pounding just slightly, you step forward, inching closer to the window.

When you peek over, you’re met with a familiar sight: Pompidou, the resident stray cat who had made the apartment building his kingdom, sits with one paw pressed to the glass, his usual unamused expression aimed your way.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders as you let out a soft laugh. Setting your journal on the bed, you reach over to open the window, letting him slip inside with practiced ease. He slinks past you with the air of someone who owns the place and makes himself right at home, hopping onto your bed and circling until he’s claimed his spot in the center.

You sit beside him, running a gentle hand over his soft fur. It’s strange how much you missed him. For the past few weeks, your room felt emptier without his occasional visits—without that extra little creature who just… understood you, in a way. And now, with Hongjoong’s absence haunting you, Pompidou couldn’t have come at a better time.

The thought hits you harder than you expect: here you are, at your lowest, relying on a cat for comfort simply because the one person you’re used to confiding in has become distant, almost like a stranger. The ache in your chest intensifies, and before you know it, you’re lying down next to him, resting your head on the bed and gazing at his calm, indifferent eyes. It feels silly, pathetic even, to be speaking your heart to a cat, but in this silence, with no one else to turn to, you let yourself unravel.

“Pompidou,” you whisper, voice barely holding steady, “I… I don’t know what I did wrong. Everything was fine, wasn’t it?” Your fingers tremble as they thread through his fur, a warmth grounding you in the midst of your unraveling. “I don’t know how we ended up here. He’s always been there for me, and now… it’s like he’s vanished. And I’m trying, I really am, but every time I reach out, it’s like he’s miles away.”

A sharp breath catches in your throat, and you look up at the ceiling, fighting against the tears stinging your eyes. “It’s probably all my fault,” you confess in a whisper that breaks. “Maybe I was too much, or maybe I should have… I don’t know, said something differently, done something better. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him to eat dinner that night so that…” A bitter chuckle slips out as you squeeze your eyes shut. “It’s funny, you know. All my life, I’ve been terrified of being alone, of people walking out… and now here I am, trying to be okay with him pulling away like it’s nothing.”

Pompidou shifts slightly, his warm body pressing into your side, a small reminder that he’s there, and he’s not leaving. You let your hand drop to your chest, feeling the dull ache that’s settled there. “I just miss him, Pompidou. I miss the way he used to look at me like I mattered. Now, he can’t even look me in the eyes. And I don’t know why I’m clinging to that, why I’m hoping he’ll suddenly turn around and go back to being who he was.”

The silence swallows you for a moment. “Maybe it’s because, deep down, I’m still the same pathetic teenager from Arcadia Bay who’s scared that she doesn’t deserve anything better. That she’s always going to be left behind, and this… this is just proof.” Your voice falters, words thick with pain you can no longer hold back. “And if he leaves, then maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“Maybe I was the one who left him in an alternate reality, and this is the price I have to pay for it,” you joke, but it only feels like a pathetic attempt to make yourself feel better.

The pain is so sharp it almost feels physical, a hollow ache that makes every breath feel heavier than the last. You close your eyes, fighting against the helplessness clawing at your insides, but the words keep pouring out, jagged and raw, as though voicing them might lessen the weight—even if it’s only to a cat who can’t respond.

“Do you know what’s worse?” you whisper, fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt over your chest as if you could hold yourself together by sheer will. “It’s that I can’t even be mad at him. I want to be—believe me, I’ve tried. I tell myself he’s the one pulling away, that he’s the one who’s changed, but then I start wondering… what if I pushed him to this? What if I’m the reason he’s slipping through my fingers?”

A soft tremor runs through your hands, and you curl them into fists, teeth gritted as you force the tears back. “I keep thinking… maybe he’s right to distance himself. Maybe there’s something broken in me, something that just drives people away. And the worst part is, I keep wishing he’d come back, like I’d somehow be enough if I could just—”

Your voice catches, breaking into a whisper as you bury your face in your hands, barely holding in the sob that threatens to spill out. “I just don’t understand. He was my safe place, Pompidou. For the first time in so long, I actually felt like I mattered. He made me feel seen. And now… now I feel invisible all over again, like everything we shared was just temporary, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Pompidou shifts closer, his soft purr rumbling beneath your fingertips as you stroke his fur, a small solace in the middle of this storm.

“I try to convince myself that I’m fine, that I can go on without him,” you continue, voice cracking as the words spill out unchecked. “But the truth is, I’m terrified. I’m scared that if he leaves… if he’s really gone, I’ll be alone again, just like before. And I hate myself for feeling this way, for being so… so weak.”

The tears finally break free, slipping down your cheeks in a silent flood. “What does that say about me? That I’m so dependent on him, that I can’t even imagine my life without him? I thought I was stronger than this, that I’d learned how to stand on my own. But now… now it’s like I’m right back to that scared, lonely kid I used to be, clinging to anyone who shows me a hint of kindness.”

You pull your knees to your chest, holding yourself as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the emptiness swallowing you whole. “I can’t stop thinking that maybe this is all I deserve. That maybe I’m meant to be alone. Maybe he’s finally seeing me for who I am, and he’s realizing I’m not worth it.”

Your shoulders shake as the sobs escape, quiet and raw, each one cutting through you like glass. Pompidou curls closer, his little face pressing against your arm, as though he understands in his own way. But his silent comfort only deepens the ache, a reminder that the person you need more than anything isn’t here, and you’re left holding yourself together with nothing but frayed threads of hope.

With a shuddering breath, you finally admit the fear you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. “What if he doesn’t come back, Pompidou? What if this is it? I don’t think… I don’t think I can handle losing him. Not like this.”

Your voice drops to a whisper, the words coming slow and soft as you gaze out the window, eyes unfocused. “I just… I miss him, Pompidou,” you murmur, fingers absently tracing patterns against the sheets.

“I miss all the little things that made it feel like he was a part of me, like he was woven into my days without me even realizing it. I miss the way he’d send me random sketches, the ones that made no sense but made me laugh anyway, like he was letting me in on his little worlds. I miss… I miss how he’d always have this ridiculous drink order for me every time we’d meet up at the café where we switched up our notebooks with one another before we met for the first time. It’s like he knew exactly what I’d need, even if I didn’t.”

The memories wash over you, and you can’t stop the warmth from pooling in your chest as you picture those moments. “I wish we could go back to that time when things were… simple. When I could sit beside him without feeling like the whole world was shifting under my feet. When he’d laugh and look at me like I was… like I was something special, you know?”

Your voice trembles, and you tighten your grip on the sheets. “And the thing is… it was just easy with him. He’d be there, always making me feel like nothing could go wrong as long as we were together. He’d be there with his quiet, comforting presence, and I could just… be. I didn’t have to pretend or put on some mask. It was like he could see right through me, and somehow, he didn’t care about all the mess he found.”

You take a deep breath, the words spilling out like a plea. “I just want to go back, Pompidou. Back to before everything felt so fragile, before that almost-kiss, before this… this distance. I wish I could reach out and take it all back. I’d give anything just to have things feel normal again.”

Pompidou tilts his head, eyes blinking up at you, and you can’t help but laugh, a soft, broken sound that catches in your throat. “I know it sounds silly, doesn’t it? I mean, how could I expect anything to be the same after that? But I can’t help it, Pompidou. I want to go back to when he’d smile at me like that, when I didn’t have to wonder if I was the one pushing him away.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of each memory anchor you down. “I miss his laugh. I miss his stupid jokes. I miss the way he’d lean closer when he talked about his dreams, his voice getting all serious like he could see every detail in his mind. And I miss… I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with him. I miss how he’d look at me with this warmth, like I was enough, just as I was.”

The words come out like a broken whisper, a confession you’ve been holding inside for far too long. “I can’t stop missing him. I wish… I wish I could go back to that last night before everything shifted. Before the night we nearly kissed, before I even realized what I felt. I wish I could’ve just stayed there, in that moment, without letting any of it change.”

You hug your knees, curling up as the ache settles deeper, heavier. “But I can’t. And now it’s as if I’m left with pieces of him in everything around me, and I don’t know how to put myself back together without him.”

You pull yourself up, exhaling slowly, and walk over to your desk. The room feels quiet, still heavy with everything you’ve let out, yet somehow emptier too, as if releasing the words has left you hollow. With a shaky hand, you pick up your phone and make your way back to bed, curling up beside Pompidou, who has already claimed his spot against your pillow. Settling into the blankets, you scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over Hongjoong’s icon.

It’s just his initials next to a simple photo he once sent—a candid moment he probably forgot about, something so ordinary that it’s precious now. The way he looked when he didn’t realize anyone was watching: a slight smile, eyes softened by something he found funny, maybe even a bit endearing. The sight makes your chest tighten, and you let yourself scroll up, reading through old conversations like leafing through the pages of a treasured book.

Each message brings back flashes of shared laughter and late-night ramblings, little moments where time seemed to pause, and it was just the two of you—untouchable, safe. You linger on a message he sent on a rainy afternoon, a random joke he thought would cheer you up. Your lips curl into a faint smile, but it’s bittersweet. There was a time when it was so easy, so effortless, like breathing. He had a way of knowing exactly when you needed a reminder that he was there. But now, that comfort feels distant, unreachable.

A tear slips down your cheek again before you realize it, and you hastily swipe it away, but the sorrow wells up again, slipping past your guard. As if sensing your pain, Pompidou extends a soft paw, resting it gently below your eyes, and you feel his fur against your cheek, grounding you in a way that words can’t. His small gesture tugs a quiet, breathy laugh from you, despite the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to catch your sadness, pulling it away piece by piece, his wide eyes fixed on yours with an empathy you can almost feel.

You let your head fall, hugging Pompidou close, allowing yourself to finally surrender to the pain and let it wash over you without restraint. The loneliness, the longing, the hollow spaces Hongjoong’s absence has left in you—all of it spills out as you clutch the feline tightly, letting his warmth and steady breathing lull you into a fragile sense of comfort. The room seems to blur, softening around you as the weight of everything you’ve been holding back presses into you.

The tears come faster now, unstoppable, and your quiet sobs fill the silence, raw and unfiltered. It’s just you and Pompidou, and for a moment, it feels like you’re not truly alone. There, in the quiet solace of your room, you cling to that small comfort, letting yourself feel every ounce of longing, letting yourself miss him—fully, desperately, hopelessly.

—

Meanwhile, Hongjoong stood in his office, the warm, nostalgic tones of “La Vie en Rose” playing softly from the record player behind him. His gaze fixed on the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, and he fought to keep his emotions in check. Each note lingered in the air, pulling him deeper into the web of memories he was desperately trying to forget. This song, of all songs—he could still remember how it had been playing when the two of you had stood together in the flower shop, laughing over bouquets and trading light-hearted jokes as if the world beyond didn’t exist.

Part of him knew he could walk over and turn it off. The music was his to control, after all. And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The melody was the last fragile thread that kept him tethered to you, a reminder of the warmth he felt in your presence, the comfort of knowing someone understood him.

The dim light from the city outside cast a soft glow over his office, illuminating the expanse of papers scattered across his desk, the outlines of unfinished sketches and hastily scrawled notes, all reminders of the whirlwind he’d buried himself in since he started pushing you away. Each corner of the room felt saturated with memories of you—and it was strange how a space that had once felt so alive now seemed hollow, absent of the warmth you’d brought into it.

He tried to focus on the skyline again, his eyes tracing the glittering lights of the city. It was an attempt to ground himself, to pull himself back from the turmoil inside him. But tonight, every bit of stillness he attempted felt false, every piece of composure barely hanging by a thread. All he could think about was you—the absence of your presence filling every empty space in his mind, as if refusing to be silenced.

He turned slowly from the window, allowing his gaze to wander over his desk. It was almost impossible to remember the last time he’d felt fully at ease in this room. The stacks of designs that had once held so much promise now felt like hollow accomplishments, each one only reminding him of the fire you’d helped him ignite. His eyes landed on a small pendant lying amidst the clutter. The flower encased inside had faded slightly, its once-vibrant petals softened by time. He picked it up, cradling it carefully in his hand, feeling a strange tenderness rise within him.

You’d given him that flower, pressing it into his hand with a shy smile as you murmured something about it bringing him luck. He could still recall the way your fingers had lingered against his, the brief but electric touch that had left him wondering if you felt it too. “For good luck,” you’d said, your eyes sparkling in that way they always did when you felt especially close to him.

Hongjoong swallowed, feeling a tightness in his chest as he held the pendant closer. How was it that something so small could carry the weight of so many memories? He closed his eyes, and the warmth of your smile flashed in his mind, as vivid as if you were standing beside him. But now, as he held the pendant, it felt heavier, like a tiny piece of the past he was terrified of losing forever.

In his mind, he slipped back to that night—the one that had started as an ordinary work session, yet had unraveled into something far more vulnerable. He could still feel the closeness of the room, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows as you both worked side by side, immersed in the quiet moment you shared.

You’d shared things that night that were never meant to leave the room. He could still hear your voice, low and hesitant, as you revealed the fears you held closest to your heart. “Being left alone,” you’d admitted, your words raw and unguarded. The truth of it had lingered between you, a quiet vulnerability that had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

When you turned the question back on him, he’d hesitated, feeling the weight of his own guarded secrets pressing against his chest. But in that quiet space, under the gentle glow of the lamp, he’d found himself opening up in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to in years. “Losing myself,” he’d whispered, his voice barely audible, but enough for you to hear. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Now, standing alone in his empty office, Hongjoong felt the irony of it all washing over him. He’d tried so hard to protect himself, to build walls so high that even you couldn’t reach them. But now, it felt as if he had developed a new fear bigger than losing himself—losing you.

A quiet knock on the door broke his reverie, and he tensed, slipping the pendant into his pocket as he turned. Wooyoung’s face appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of Hongjoong standing alone, the haunting strains of La Vie en Rose still spinning softly from the record player across the room.

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to the player, where the melody had been looping for what must have been the better part of an hour. “Still here?” he asked quietly, a hint of concern threading his tone.

Hongjoong forced a slight smile, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Wooyoung stepped further into the room, his gaze sharp as it settled on Hongjoong. “You know…” Wooyoung began, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, “the world can see how miserable you are. Including her—especially her.”

Hongjoong stiffened, the forced nonchalance slipping from his face as he turned away, staring intently at the record player as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, the words feeling hollow even to his own ears.

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung’s tone softened, a hint of exasperation breaking through. “I know you. I know how much you care about her. And I know you’re running from something you can’t outrun. But you’re not fooling anyone by pretending it doesn’t matter.”

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with all the reasons he’d built to keep you at a distance. Each one felt logical, safe, a way to protect himself from something he couldn’t quite name. But here, with Wooyoung standing there, watching him with that steady gaze, he felt every layer he’d built start to unravel.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, barely audible above the music.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning softer, almost pleading. “Then what are you doing, Hongjoong? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is someone too scared to reach for what he really wants.”

Hongjoong’s heart twisted painfully, Wooyoung’s words hitting far too close to home. He felt the weight of everything he’d tried to suppress rising within him, a tidal wave of emotions he’d buried so deeply he’d convinced himself they were gone. But Wooyoung’s words had brought them to the surface, and now, there was no escaping them.

A silence stretched between them, and Hongjoong’s gaze fell to the floor. In that moment, he felt utterly vulnerable, as though Wooyoung could see right through him, could see the aching desire he’d tried so hard to deny. He didn’t have to say it—Wooyoung already knew.

Hongjoong’s fingers were still curled around the pendant in his pocket when Wooyoung let out a quiet sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “So,” Wooyoung began, breaking the silence, “are you really going to stand here, pretending everything’s fine?”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing. He wanted to brush off Wooyoung’s words, to deflect with some casual response that would keep the carefully built walls intact. But his mind was a battlefield, each memory of you cutting through his defenses like a blade.

“Everything is fine,” he replied tersely. He didn’t meet Wooyoung’s eyes, focusing instead on a spot just beyond his shoulder.

Wooyoung’s brows knitted together, clearly unconvinced. “Right. That’s why you’ve been playing her favorite song on loop for the last hour. That’s why you’ve been holed up in here, avoiding anything that reminds you of her.” He shook his head, his tone equal parts exasperation and worry. “Hongjoong, you’re not fooling me. I know you, and I know you’re running from something—from someone.”

Hongjoong let out a low, frustrated sigh, finally looking up at Wooyoung. “Wooyoung, just drop it, alright?” He forced a tense smile, attempting to sound dismissive. “This… whatever you think is going on, it’s all in your head. We were just friends.”

But Wooyoung didn’t budge. “Friends?” He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of disbelief. “You really want to go with that? Because the way you’re acting… it doesn’t look like you’re just missing a friend. You’re avoiding her like she’s a stranger, but then you’re here, playing her favorite song over and over, clutching onto that pendant like it’s the last piece of her you have.”

Hongjoong’s fingers instinctively tightened around the pendant, and he felt a pang of frustration rise within him. He didn’t want to admit that Wooyoung’s words struck too close to home. “I told you, it’s nothing like that,” he bit back, his tone sharper than intended. “You’re turning this into something it isn’t.”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his gaze not faltering. “Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re acting like a guy who’s desperately trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t even believe.”

“Wooyoung—”

“Hongjoong, you can’t keep lying to yourself.” Wooyoung’s tone softened, his voice carrying a gentleness that seemed to cut deeper than the words themselves. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I do know that you care about her. You’re not fooling anyone by pretending this distance is ‘better’ for either of you.”

Hongjoong’s patience began to fray, his frustration morphing into anger. He shot Wooyoung a glare, his voice rising. “It is better, Wooyoung. She… she deserves better. She doesn’t need to be pulled into whatever mess I am.” He paused, catching his breath, his anger mingling with something closer to desperation. “I’m not what’s best for her. And it’s better for the both of us if I keep my distance.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted, his gaze hardening as he stepped closer, unwilling to let Hongjoong brush him off. “So, what? You think pushing her away, acting like she means nothing, is somehow good for her? You really think she’s better off without you?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong replied, his tone final, but the conviction in his voice was starting to waver.

Wooyoung gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and for a moment, the silence between them was thick with unspoken truths. Then, Wooyoung shook his head slowly. “You’re lying to yourself. And honestly? It’s pathetic, Hongjoong. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

The words hit Hongjoong like a slap, and a flash of anger surged within him, simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I’m doing this for her, so just… stop.”

But Wooyoung wouldn’t relent. “You’re not doing this for her. You’re doing this because you’re afraid. Afraid to admit how much she means to you. Afraid of what might happen if you actually let her in. Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you think is keeping you from being with her… maybe it’s worth rethinking. Because if you keep running like this, you’re going to lose her. And then what?”

Hongjoong felt his control slipping, the carefully constructed barriers he’d built starting to crack under the weight of Wooyoung’s words. He clenched his fists, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “This isn’t about fear.”

“Isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s voice softened, a hint of understanding breaking through the frustration. “Hongjoong… I get it. You’re scared of losing yourself. Of losing control. But she’s not the one who’s going to make that happen. You are, by doing this. By trying so hard to keep her out.”

Hongjoong stayed silent, his chest tightening as Wooyoung’s words began to sink in. He wanted to deny it, to push back with the same conviction he’d clung to for weeks, but he couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew there was truth in Wooyoung’s words.

Finally, Wooyoung let out a sigh, his tone softening even further. “Listen, man. I don’t know what almost happened, or why you’re so determined to stay away from her, but you have to ask yourself… is this really what you want?”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind flashing back to that night in your apartment—the feeling of your hand brushing his, the way your gaze had lingered on him, the unspoken tension that had nearly pulled him into something he couldn’t name. He’d wanted so badly to close that distance, to feel your lips against his, to let go of the fear and doubt that had held him back. But just as he’d leaned closer, Wooyoung’s call had snapped him out of the moment, bringing him crashing back to reality.

“Do you even understand how much she’s hurting, Hongjoong?” And there it was again—the harshness in Wooyoung’s tone. “Seonghwa told me she’s tearing herself apart over this. She doesn’t eat right anymore, and she barely even sleeps. She spends her nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong, wondering if she’s the problem.”

The words landed like a punch to Hongjoong’s gut, leaving him breathless. Images of you flashed through his mind—moments when he’d caught glimpses of your smile faltering, your laughter quieting, the spark in your eyes dimming little by little. He’d told himself it was just his imagination, that you were fine. But Wooyoung’s words shattered that illusion entirely.

“She thinks she did something wrong, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung continued, his voice filled with barely contained anger. “She actually believes she’s the reason you’re running. Every time you disappear, every time you pull away, she thinks it’s because of something she did. And the worst part? She doesn’t even blame you. She blames herself.”

Hongjoong’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as guilt clawed at him.

“Seonghwa told me she asked him if she was too much. Can you believe that?” Wooyoung’s voice cracked. “She actually thinks she’s too much for you. That she’s somehow burdening you, dragging you down. She’s convinced herself that if she were just… less, maybe you wouldn’t be running.”

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, a wave of nausea rolling over him as he realized the full extent of the pain he’d caused. You—who had always been so vibrant, so unapologetically yourself—were now questioning every part of who you were, trying to shrink yourself down to avoid scaring him away.

“She’s not even angry at you, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice barely above a whisper now, each word a dagger aimed straight at Hongjoong’s heart. “She doesn’t hate you for this. She just… she thinks she’s not enough. Or that she’s too much. Either way, she’s convinced that she’s the problem.”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind reeling. He could feel the anchor of your pain weighing down on him; He’d done this to you—turned you into a shadow of yourself, left you grappling with doubts and insecurities that weren’t yours to bear.

“You’ve been so busy hiding behind your own fears,” Wooyoung continued, “that you haven’t even stopped to consider what this is doing to her. You’re so terrified of being hurt again that you’re hurting her—over and over, every day, with every step you take away from her.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say to justify this? How could he explain that he’d been running not to hurt you, but to protect himself? It sounded so selfish, so small in the face of everything you were going through.

“And you know what’s really twisted?” Wooyoung’s voice dropped, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “She’d take you back in a heartbeat. Despite everything, she’d still look at you the same way she did before you started pushing her away. She’d still forgive you, still try to see the good in you, because that’s who she is. That’s how much she cares.”

Hongjoong felt something break inside him, a quiet, shattering realization that left him reeling. You would forgive him. He knew that. He could see it in his mind—the way you’d smile softly, the way your eyes would fill with understanding, even now. Even after everything, you’d welcome him back, arms open, heart exposed, waiting.

“She deserves better, Joong.” Wooyoung’s words were softer now, the anger replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty. “She deserves someone who doesn’t make her question her worth. Someone who doesn’t make her feel like she’s somehow wrong just for being herself. And if you can’t be that for her… if you’re too wrapped up in your own fears to let her in… then you need to let her go.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened, a hollow ache spreading through him as he struggled to process it all. He didn’t want to let you go. He couldn’t. But the thought of holding onto you only to keep hurting you, to keep dragging you through his own tangled web of insecurities and fears—it was unbearable.

“She’s barely holding up. She hides it well, but Seonghwa can see it. He told me how she sits alone for hours, just staring off into space, like she’s lost something she can’t find. She keeps her phone close, hoping maybe, just maybe, you’ll reach out. But every time you don’t... it breaks her a little more.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened painfully, each word slicing through him like a blade. He could see it so clearly now, every painful moment he’d forced you through. How you must’ve waited for messages that never came, must’ve spent countless nights wondering where things had gone wrong. The thought of you sitting there, lost in your own pain, while he’d been so focused on his own fears, was more than he could bear.

“And don’t think she hasn’t tried to talk to you.” Wooyoung’s voice turned sharp, accusatory. “Seonghwa told me how many times she’s wanted to reach out, just to make sure you’re okay, just to see if you’d give her even a scrap of reassurance. But every time, she stops herself. She doesn’t want to bother you, doesn’t want to seem needy. She’s holding back everything she feels because she’s afraid it’ll push you further away.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened slightly, but the fire of his conviction remained. “You need to understand, Hongjoong. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about her too. You’re hurting her, and if you don’t start realizing that, it’ll be too late. She’s going to break, and I don’t think she’ll come back from it.”

Hongjoong felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. The thought of you shattering into pieces because of his cowardice was unbearable. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to say that he was doing this for you, for the both of you. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He was only trying to shield himself from the fear of loss, the same fear that had haunted him since that girl from his past had walked away.

“I can’t… I can’t lose anyone again, Woo,” Hongjoong finally admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “What if she sees me for who I really am? What if she realizes I’m not worth it?”

Wooyoung shook his head, frustration flashing across his features. “That’s where you’re wrong. She already sees you, and she loves you for all the parts you’re trying to hide. You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re only pushing her further into despair.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions colliding within him. “How do you know? How do you know she feels that way?”

“Because I’ve talked to Seonghwa, and he cares about her, Joong! He’s seen her cry over you. He told me she broke down one night, just sitting on the floor of her room, wondering why you were so distant. She kept saying she must’ve done something wrong. Do you want that for her? Do you want to be the reason she loses herself?”

The image of you curled up alone, tears streaming down your face while grappling with your worth, sliced through Hongjoong. The sheer guilt of it settled heavily in his chest, suffocating him. He had wanted to protect you, but in doing so, he had only hurt you more.

Hongjoong lingered in silence, the weight of his unspoken fears casting a shadow over the room. He could feel Wooyoung’s gaze on him, a

persistent pressure urging him to confront the thoughts he’d been too afraid to voice.

“What if…” The words caught in his throat, his voice strained with the vulnerability he couldn’t hide. “What if I take the next step, and she leaves? What if she ends up leaving just like—”

Wooyoung interrupted him by reaching forward, pressing his fingers gently but firmly to Hongjoong’s lips, shushing him with an authority that surprised them both. “I know what comes next, Hongjoong,” he murmured. “You don’t need to say it.”

Hongjoong stiffened, pulling back ever so slightly, a touch of annoyance flickering across his face. “You think it’s that simple?” he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice. “You think it’s easy to just… forget?”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, though he held firm. “I think you’re holding onto something that’s long gone, Joong. And you’re letting it get in the way of something real.” He paused, leaning forward. “So what if the girl you loved back in middle school left you? You’re still letting her be the one who decides what happens now?”

Hongjoong’s mouth opened, then closed, his defenses crumbling under Wooyoung’s scrutiny. He could feel the words bubbling up, the excuses he’d used to justify his fears over and over, but this time, they didn’t come. The silence between them grew heavier, and he felt himself shrinking under Wooyoung’s eyes.

“It’s not about her,” Hongjoong finally managed, his voice a strained whisper. “It’s just… this was exactly how it started back then. The same moments, the same feelings, and then…” His voice broke, a haunted look creeping into his eyes as the memories clawed their way to the surface. “And then it all just fell apart the moment she left without a word.”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, his gaze filled with something close to sympathy, but there was no pity there, only an understanding forged through years of friendship. “Joong,” he said softly, leaning even closer as if he could bridge the distance that Hongjoong had placed between himself and everyone around him. “So what if some things feel familiar? They’re not the same person, are they? You’re not the same person, either.”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger sparking in his chest as he searched for a way to deflect, to deny the truth in Wooyoung’s words. “It’s… it’s not like that, Woo. You don’t get it.” His voice grew sharper, frustration edging his tone as he tried to hold onto the walls he’d built.

Wooyoung shook his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Really? Because it doesn’t look that way to me.”

Hongjoong looked away, his gaze hardening as he stared at the floor. “It’s not that simple, okay? You don’t know what it’s like to… to risk everything and then lose it.”

Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Hongjoong, I may not know exactly what you went through, but I do know one thing: you’re letting something from the past dictate your future. And that’s not fair. Not to you, and definitely not to her.”

Hongjoong’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as he felt the weight of Wooyoung’s words settle over him. Part of him wanted to argue, to cling to the fears that had kept him guarded for so long, but another part—a part he’d buried deep—knew that Wooyoung was right.

“What if I let myself try?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his words laden with the weight of years of doubt and self-preservation. “What if… what if I take that risk, and she ends up leaving?”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward, resting a reassuring hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Joong, if she’s really the person you believe she is… then maybe it’s a risk worth taking. Because people leave, yeah. They walk away. But the ones who matter, the ones who are meant to stay—they won’t go anywhere.”

“You’re saying I should just… trust that?” His voice wavered, the question more for himself than for Wooyoung, as if he needed to convince himself that he could still believe in something other than his own fears.

Wooyoung’s mouth curved into a gentle, understanding smile. “Yeah. Trust it. Don’t let something that’s already gone keep you from what could be right here, right now.”

“What if I let her in? What if I let her see the real me? What if it’s not enough?”

“Then you fight for her,” Wooyoung replied. “You show her every day that she’s enough. You fight for her instead of running away. You have to be brave enough to take the risk, Joong. And if she does leave, at least you’ll know you tried. You can’t live in the shadow of your past forever.”

“But what if she sees me as weak?” Hongjoong countered, bitterness lacing his tone. “What if she thinks I’m broken?”

“Then you show her that even broken pieces can fit together to make something beautiful,” Wooyoung shot back. “You’ve built this wall around yourself, but you’re just hurting the one person who’s tried to break through. You need to trust her. You need to let her help you. She wants to be there for you, but you have to meet her halfway.”

The truth of those words echoed painfully in Hongjoong’s mind. He had been running, terrified of the vulnerability that came with love, terrified of the chance that he could be left once more. But he could feel the edges of that fear beginning to fray under the weight of his guilt, unraveling with every word Wooyoung spoke.

“You can’t let the past dictate your present, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice softer now, a mixture of empathy and frustration. “You can’t keep running away from what you feel. If you do, you’ll end up losing her, and it’ll be your fault.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced as he thought of you—how you had lit up his life in ways he never thought possible. How your laughter had become a soothing balm to his weary soul. He couldn’t keep ignoring the truth that was staring him in the face. The realization washed over him like a cold wave. “What am I supposed to do?” Hongjoong whispered.

“Fight for her, Joong. Show her that you’re not afraid. Be honest with her, and don’t let fear win this time.” Wooyoung leaned closer. “She deserves that much, at the very least. Fight for her—before it’s too late.”

“But what if it already is?”

🪞 — lividstar.