#years and years of the same exact shit over and over and over again hating every second | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gyutopia · 2 months

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dried flowers | park jongseong

ꕤ DESCRIPTION: it’s always been jay, even all those years ago when you were fresh out of a relationship with your first love hueningkai. it was jay who was always there, the man who helped you find yourself again and showed you your worth, the man you could clearly picture a future with, the father of your twins. so why are you now having doubts about your marriage? it’s always been jay...hasn’t it?

ꕤ GENRE: fluff, nsfw, angst….

ꕤ WORD COUNT: 13.3k

⟶ WARNINGS: mean dom!jay, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), p in v intercourse, no protection, degradation, possessiveness, jealousy,, jay gets his heart broken, the park family is in shambles, mentions of cheating, slut shaming, knets hate u lol, mentions of depression and therapy.

❥ 𝑎/n: she’s been in the drafts for a while, decided to post while i work on my jake fic!

12:39am

There was a time in your life when you felt free and the world was full of possibilities...and him, especially him. You love your husband, you always have and you always will but a part of you can’t help but wonder if your life would be different had you given your first love a second chance. The circumstances surrounding your relationship with Hueningkai were far from ideal, an overly busy boyfriend who could never seem to make time for you and a short stay for your study abroad program. The odds really were never in your favor.

It also didn’t help that the two of you had completely different ideals and aspirations. You wanted to settle down at some point and have kids, you wanted the big wedding and the house at the end of the cul de sac but Kai wanted you and his music, nothing more. He didn’t believe in marriage, claiming he didn’t need a piece of paper to show you just how much he loved you.

He also wasn’t big on kids, coming from a somewhat big family himself and seeing how his parents marriage didn’t last and the pain he and his sisters endured when the divorce was finalized, he came to the conclusion he wouldn’t ever want to put someone he loves through that and swore off kids for good. His focus was his music career before anything else and he expected you to simply adjust to his hectic life and be content with being kept in the shadows. Your relationship really took a turn for the worst when he brought you to a party his label mates were throwing, everything went to shit that night.

The party resulted in a broken relationship, bloody nose and bruised knuckles and you pulling out of the SNU study abroad program the following week and returning back home to the states.

You don't even know what you’re doing thinking about Kai, it’s been years and you’re content with the life you lead now. You’re married to an amazing man who shows you each and every day just how much he loves you and the children you have together. Jay has never given you any reason to not trust him or even doubt him. So why are you now?

Jay is the kind of guy who actually enjoys dinners with your mess of a family, he stands on the train no matter how many seats are empty and somehow manages to be the most handsome yet humble man in any room. He’s your all time favorite person and you want to live a hundred years and die at the exact same moment so your souls can find each other on the other side as soon as possible and fall in love all over again.

So maybe you don’t regret picking Jay, you’re glad you did. Really, but you just can’t help but think: what if it had been Kai?

Would you be as happy as you are now? Would you have kids? Would you still be his dirty little secret or would he have told the press about you eventually?

You sigh in frustration and rub at your forehead. “It’s too early for this,” you mumble to yourself before standing from your bed and exiting the room.

You slide on your bedroom slippers and slip out of the master bedroom to head downstairs. You stop by the twins room and open the door just a bit to make sure they’re still sleeping. You smile softly when you find them passed out in their respective beds.

You shut the door and continue to pad down the hall and stairs into your kitchen to grab a mug and tequila. You pour yourself a cup and head into the backyard to sit on the hammock chair Jay had set up a month prior to you giving birth to the twins.

You place the tequila bottle by your feet and cradle your mug to your chest as you overlook your backyard. It’s a mess, there are toys scattered about and the play set Jay had installed with the help of his members sits proud and tall right smack dab in the middle of the mess.

You lean your head against the wood of the hammock and pull your phone out of the pocket of your robe. You can feel your eyes water as you scroll through your contact list searching for one specific person. Yujin.

The phone rings for a few seconds before she picks up.

“Hello?”

You let out a shaky laugh, “oh. Hi, you’re still up?”

She laughs. “Do you know who you’re talking to? My sleep schedule doesn’t exist. But I will say I’m surprised that you haven’t passed out yet. You know, being the mother of one year old twins can be very tiring.” You hear some commotion in the background before you hear the gentle shut of a door. “Why are you still up?”

You bite down on your bottom lip and play with the rim on your mug. “I can’t sleep.”

She hums, “hey, has Jay ever choked you? Because if he hasn’t he really should.”

You let out a scandalized gasp, “oh my gosh! You were with heeseung weren't you?”

She giggles and sighs into the phone, “he might have spent the night.”

You kick your feet and allow the hammock to swing, “oh wow. Was it that good?”

She hums eagerly, “yes it was. Maybe we should get married? Then he could do it for the rest of our lives.”

You nearly choke on the sip of tequila at her words. “I love that it takes asphyxiation to get you to settle down.”

She laughs as well, “please, you’re acting as if you didn’t marry Jay because of his, your words not mine, ‘monster cock’,”

You shrug your robe off and place the mug down, finally getting comfortable. “I don’t recall.”

She snorts, “of course you don’t. But moving on, are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

You clear your throat and stare off into the distance. “I’ve been doing some...thinking..?”

You trail off as you try and think of how to phrase your next sentence. “A lot of thinking actually. About...him.”

Yujin hums in amusement, “ouu, who?”

You sigh and place your head in your hands. “Come on Yujin, you know who.”

Silence follows after your statement and you hang your head in shame.

“Are you kidding me?” Yujin takes a seat at her dining table and reprimands you. “Do not fuck up your gorgeous family.”

You shake your head adamantly, “I’m not.”

“You better not! Jay is such a good guy, _____!”

You sigh, “I know that!”

Yujin scoffs, “then appreciate it for a second, how lucky you are to have found him. Do you know how many millions of women would kill for what you have with him?”

“Look, I know that. B-but I just can’t stop thinking about how different things used to be!”

Yujin lets out a confused hum, “with Kai?”

“No...with me. I was different...I- I don’t know what happened.”

Yujin sighs, “you said yes, moved to the suburbs and had kids. This is what you wanted, _____. It was your choice.”

You groan in frustration. “I know that, Yujin! But I just, I-I need to feel it again!”

“Feel what?”

“Some small piece of that interconnected love rush you know? It was just-- it was such a high!”

“_____...I get it, Kai was out of this world for you but that kind of love is a fickle bitch. It hurts, it betrays and is ultimately unsustainable but what you have with Jay will go the distance. He really is the one for you.”

You close your eyes and lean back in the hammock. “I know.” You softly say, “I know it with everything in me.”

Yujin nods, forgetting that you can’t see her. “So what are you gonna do?”

You open your eyes when you hear Jay’s car pull up in the driveway. “I don’t know.” You properly sit up and collect your mug and tequila off the floor, “I have to go. Jay’s home.”

You don’t give her a chance to respond before hanging up and entering the kitchen through the back just as Jay walks in through the foyer. You dump the remaining liquor and place the bottle back in your drink cabinet.

“Hi, my love.” You feel Jay wrap his arms around your waist from behind and place a kiss on your collarbone. “Why are you still up?”

You finish washing up the mug and place it on the drying rack. “My mind won’t shut off.” you turn in his arms and wrap your own around his waist. He smiles at you and leans down to place his lips on yours for a quick peck but you pull him back in for a longer more meaningful kiss.

Loosely, his hand moves to grip your neck, as you lift your chin higher - so you can press your lips harder into his - while your hands fist into his shirt. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his. Gasping at the motion, Jay uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. Indolently, his soft appendage swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it.

Electrified by his kiss, you moan into his mouth, your chin lifting higher as you press your lips harder against his. Mouths moving in tandem, you lose yourself into the intoxicating feel of his lips against yours. The soft petals of his mouth are soft, and as pillowy as you remember; albeit a little chapped, but you don’t mind so much. No - because the slight abrasion only adds to the feel of your kiss.

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. Further and further, you sink into Jay: his body pressed flat against yours, his saccharine taste coating your tastebuds, and his warm breath wafting over your face. You can’t help but find yourself drowning into him - his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Both of you lose track of time, your tongues gliding and sliding against each other, both of you consumed wholly by the other. Lost in your own selves, you feel nothing but each other - want to feel nothing but each other - and soon, the rest of the world fades into the background. There’s a soft ache in your lungs - your chest aching from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t care. No - right now, breathing is the last thing on your mind. In fact, the only thing you can think of is Jay, and the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours.

Nonetheless, eventually, your lungs begin to burn - the lack of oxygen searing through your chest. When the sweltering ache grows too much to be ignored, the two of you pull away - breathing harshly against each other. Your eyes stay closed as you gasp for air, both your breaths mingling together and circulating the air. Your lips are slightly swollen, and as you flick out your tongue to soothe them, you can’t help but whimper at the aftertaste of his essence on your mouth: the flavor only deepened by his breath fanning your face.

With your eyes closed, you still feel him linger around you - his calming presence washing over you and soothing your earlier hurt. Swallowing thickly, the two of you gradually open your eyes - coming face to face with each other. You’re still only a hair's breadth away, his mouth ghosting against yours in tender brushes. Gaze meeting his, you search his eyes for something - anything - even just an inkling of the emotions you feel for him. And as usual, Jay doesn’t disappoint.

He smiles gently at you, the soft tip of his nose brushing yours as he repetitively presses affectionate kisses to your lips. “Not that I’m complaining but, what was that for?”

You place your head against his chest and lowly whisper into the night, “I love you.”

You wake up with a headache and the muffled sound of voices echoing from your living room all the way to the master bedroom. Groggily, you push yourself up off the bed and stare at the empty space beside you, realizing one of the voices belongs to Jay.

You vaguely remember him coming home last night after his meeting with his producer, your moment on the kitchen counter. How he carried you back upstairs and tucked you into bed beside him.

You hoist yourself off the bed and throw on the silk robe you had in the bathroom as you begin your morning routine of brushing your teeth and taking a shower. Trudging along the hallway to the living room after freshening up, you stumble upon a woman rounding the corner and walking up to you.

You think your eyes are deceiving you when you finally recognize who the jet black hair pulled up high into a sleek ponytail belongs to. “Oh sweetheart! You’re awake! Good morning.”

It’s Jay’s mother.

She pulls you into a hug and you blush. “I-I didn’t know you were visiting today.” You return the hug, “If I knew, I wouldn’t have—“

“Don’t be silly! We’re all allowed to drink once in a while!” Her eyes sparkle with her words, making you smile. She’s always been fond of her and was quite vocal about it. “Let’s get you some coffee, okay?'' Jay's mom leads you down the hallway, past the living room where you see Jay and his father engaging in what seems to be a serious conversation, and into the open kitchen where she ushers you to sit down. “The twins haven’t woken up yet, I was about to get started on their breakfast” She informs you when she catches you looking around. You hum and stir your still hot coffee.

Before you get to take a sip of the morning brew, you feel someone kiss your temple.

“Good morning, baby.” Jay whispers, placing his phone by your coffee mug, “Are you okay? Do you need aspirin?”

“I’m fine.” you sigh, stretching your neck to kiss his cheek before he straightens his back. His mother sets down another plate, filled with eggs and bacon, before ushering the men to sit.

“Let's eat!”

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

Brunch goes by fast, small talk about your father in-laws' business is shared and pictures of your kids go around the table before goodbyes are bid with promises of lunch sometime soon. Retreating back into your home, Jay takes a seat on the couch and massages his temples with two fingers.

“Jay?” You worriedly ask, sitting beside him and placing your hand on his knee. There’s something unsettling about how it takes him a second to reply, staring at the glass coffee table with a stoic expression. You begin to retract your hand until he sighs and grabs it gently

He closes his eyes and smacks his lips together, “This morning… your previous relationship was broadcasted all over the news. I don’t know how they got the information but I’m doing everything I can to take it down.”

“Oh.” You blink, unsure of what to say or how to react. If anything, the headache you woke up with starts acting up again as you try to process what your husband had just said. The world knows about Kai. Even more, the world knows about your past relationship with him. You can only wonder how the media is painting you.

You think it’s something along the lines of a gold digger. First you get swept up in a whirlwind romance with an international superstar just to break things off and marry the son of one of South Korea’s biggest chaebols who just so happened to not only be friends with your ex but work with him as well. There’s definitely no saving your image now.

“I’m sorry.”

He frowns at your apology, tilting his head to the side. “What for?”

“About this mess, I’m sorry this is interfering with your image.”

“You did nothing wrong, love. I just hate how even after all these years Kai is still associated with you. It’s almost like you won’t be able to ever fully leave him in your past where he belongs.”

You want to reassure him that while yes, Hueningkai played a major role in your life, he’s the past. You want to tell him that it doesn’t matter because he’ll stay in your past but you can’t bring yourself to lie to your husband.

The truth is you don’t know where Hueningkai stands in your life at the moment and as sick and twisted as it sounds, if he were to show up at your doorstep right at this moment….you don’t know what you would do.

Jay turns to face you. “I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, _____. That isn’t it, I swear. I just...I guess I just need the reassurance that Kai isn’t coming back. I’m secure with our relationship and I just want to know what you’re thinking, please don’t shut me out.”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, “u-uh...I-'' You're soon cut off by the wails of your twins over the baby monitor. You close your eyes and thank God for the distraction. “-I should probably go get them ready for their day and feed them. They have a playdate with Chaeyoung’s kids''

You abruptly stand and turn in the direction of the nursery. “You should get dressed for work, I’ll stop by the studio with lunch later for you and the guys.” You hesitate before turning back around to place a quick kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

After dropping off the twins and making a quick trip to the grocery store, you’re talking to Yujin over the phone about her taking her relationship with Heeseung to the next level when your phone chimes with a message from a number you should have blocked and deleted a long time ago. It’s Kai.

You block out Yujin’s words about her current issues and shakily reach for the device, scared to read the contents of his unprompted message.

2:33pm [hueningkai]: i’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now and i really am sorry if it put you in a difficult position with jay. i know you told me to delete your number and never reach out again but i don’t want you to hate me anymore than you already do _____.

2:33pm [hueningkai]: i’m not the one who sold the story to the press, i don’t know how it got out and i’m working really hard to get them taken down so please be patient and wait for me a little longer.

2:35pm [hueningkai]: i’ll make things right.

“I don’t want you to hate me anymore than you already do.” Your ears ring and your breath hitches as the phase catapults you into the past.

“_____.” he called in a breath.

He felt the panic rising. He wasn’t ready to confront you. From what Yeonjun had told him, you weren't doing great when you left the party last night. He told him how you had cried your eyes out on your way back home. Hueningkai had never seen you cry - apart from that time the two of you watched All The Bright Places together - you were always so cheery all the time, always in a good mood. In the past months you’ve been together you’ve never had a fight - you bickered continuously, yes, but never fought. You were always in sync, as if you could read each other’s minds. Hueningkai never felt such a connection with anybody else.

You were still looking at him. you looked at him and you saw the beautiful man you fell in love with tremble with fear. He was afraid of you. And in some way, you were scared of him too. you were scared of who he was, who he really was - because last night you had come to one conclusion: you don’t know Hueningkai. You thought you did, you thought you had learned enough of him in these past months, but you were wrong. He wasn’t the great, responsible and loving person you thought he was - because the man you thought you knew wasn’t capable of breaking your trust.

If there was something you were sure about it’s your worth. Your pride and tenacity were the qualities that allowed you to be where you were. You're intelligent, independent and determined. You had your moments, but you were strong, and you knew it. You knew that you didn’t do anything wrong to deserve his deception. You had cried your tears and felt the pain, but no more.

“I just want to know why.” you said, your voice a little bit too shaky for your liking.

Hueningkai closed his eyes hard, his head pounding. “_____ …”

“how long?” you pressed on.

The boy shook his head and took another shaky breath. He stood up and walked to her desk, trying to get some space between the two of them. He couldn’t think clearly.

Your eyes followed him without wavering. “You’re not going anywhere until you speak.”

Hueningkai was biting hard on his lower lip in the hope to cover up the pang in his chest. He didn’t want this. He cared about her. He loved her. But he knew, deep inside, that there was no going back from what he had done. There was no turning back from this terrible mistake.

“I ended things with her.” was all he could say.

“You clearly haven’t.” you responded in almost a clinical manner. “How long?” you repeated. “How long were you seeing her behind my back?”

The boy shook his head again, letting himself fall on the chair. “I wasn’t.”

The girl sighed, slowly getting angrier and impatient. “I saw you kiss each other yesterday. Please, be honest.”

“I-” he mumbled, struggling to find the words. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Very cliché of you to say.”

“It really wasn't,” Hueningkai exclaimed, finding the courage to look at you before cowering back, seeing the disdain on your face. “It- It was after your first day back to classes after winter break.” he finally admitted.

You furrowed your brows, going back with your memories. “The day I learned I failed my bio final?”

He looked up to the ceiling, wishing he could turn back time. “Yes.”

You thought back to that day, the same day you noticed Yeji for the first time. They hugged, you remembered that day too. You didn’t think anything of it when it happened. It didn’t seem important to you.

Were you too naive?

“Did you have sex with her?”

He shook his head. “I...I don’t remember, I was drunk.”

“You were drunk.” you repeated. “Does it sound stupid only to me?”

“No.” he gulped. “It was stupid.”

You suddenly came to a realization. “The day after my math final,” you remembered. “You weren’t yourself …”

“You told me you fought with Bahiyyih.” You murmured in recognition.

“I didn’t.” Hueningkai responded, fingers through his hair. He wanted this torture to end.

You were feeling slightly nauseous. You were worried about him that morning, but he was fine only hours later. He had laughed with you during your lunch break. “And you decided it wasn’t worth … it wasn’t important enough?” you asked, your anger rising.

“I didn’t want to ruin anything!” the boy exclaimed in fervor, looking back at her again. “You still had three more finals to take and I didn't want t-”

“So you went on with it.” you interrupted. “As if nothing had happened.”

“I didn’t want to-”

To what?” you raised your voice. “To what Hueningkai? To lose me?” you laughed a cold laugh that made the boy quiver. “That’s bullshit and you know it. And then what? You continued seeing her? Those weeks we couldn’t see each other because of your schedule, you were with her, weren’t you?” you accused him in one breath, thinking about how distant he had been.

Hueningkai was petrified. He was unable to speak against your claims, he wanted to but his throat was constricted. He could feel you slipping away by the minute and he was unable to stop you. He was losing something important, and it was all his fault.

Your breath had turned labored with the realization of how foolish you had been. Four months of lies. You couldn’t believe you fell for all of it, that you fell for him.

What was it _____? Was it his looks? Was it his personality? What about him rendered you so stupid?

Hueningkai couldn’t stop looking at you now. You were sitting on the edge of your bed with your head down and your hands on your knees, your knuckles taught. He wished he could avert his gaze again but something inside him wanted to masochistically remember this moment. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his own hands trembling inside the pocket of his jeans, where he had hidden them. If he didn’t know himself better, he could swear his eyes were starting to sting. What happened to him?

You finally take a trembling breath, as if you were trying to compose yourself and not cry. You looked him in the eyes with all the courage you could gather and finally spoke the words he had been secretly preparing himself to hear. “I never thought I could hate someone as much as I hate you. I hate you, Hueningkai. With all my heart.”

“_____? Are you even listening to me?”

You shake your head as the memory comes to pass, trying to get your head out of the daze. “Y-yeah, sorry. Chaeyoung sent me a video of the twins but I promise you have my complete undivided attention.” You lie. Why did you feel the need to hide this from your best friend?

“Oh, it’s okay. I have to go anyway, gotta wrap up my thesis.”

You bid her goodbye and wish her luck with her thesis for her PhD program before hanging up. You stand in silence in the middle of your kitchen as your mind cooks up every reason why texting Hueningkai back is wrong and downright disrespectful to Jay but a part of you itches to see what would happen if you did. Would the part of you you feel is missing come back?

2:40pm to: [hueningkai]: i believe you.

You quickly exit the messages app and shut off your phone to finish packing the boys lunches. You individually wipe down each lunch box and place them neatly in the large lunch bag you had found at Costco a while back. You make sure to pack a few snacks and a sealed platter of fruits for them as well.

You’re back in the car with a few minutes to spare from the time frame you gave yourself, the members warmed up tteokbokki perched on the passenger seat as you pull out of the driveway to your destination. You’re there in no time; there wasn’t much traffic around 4PM.

You park the Mercades in the assigned spot for workers and their family members. You make sure to grab your purse and lunch bag before you enter the elevator to head to the main floor. You greet the security guard; who had remembered you from your previous visits, greeting you as ‘Mrs. Park.’

Bashfully, you bow to him as he lets you pass and make your way to the elevator and ride up to the 10th floor.

Jaebeom, the group's manager, recognizes you the second you step out of the lift and stands up from his seat, “_____! Perfect timing! The boys just wrapped up their dance practice.”

“amazing!.” You beam as you follow him down a corridor. Some employees look up from their work to glance at you; recognition in their eyes.

Enhypen’s practice room is such a large space with multiple glass windows allowing you to see all over. He’s sat on the floor beside Jake, fingers supporting his forehead as he reads something off a piece of paper.

Jaebeom knocks on the open door and pokes his head in, “boys, you have a visitor.”

You watch as their heads snap up simultaneously to see who has stopped by.

Jay puts whatever he was reading down and stands up, “_____? What are you doing here?”

Jaebeom quietly excuses himself and you whisper words of gratitude as he leaves before stepping further into the dance room.

“I promised to drop off lunch,”holding up the lunchbox you made for them. “I can’t have my husband and dear friends starving.”

The boys all cheer and abandon their previous work to come crowd you by the door. Sunoo takes the heavy lunch bag off your shoulder and happily skips to the middle of the practice room with the members following behind. Jay walks up to you, kissing your forehead, “You really didn’t have to. We could have ordered-”

“But you weren’t, were you?” You scowl, “Come on, let’s fill that belly up.”

He leans forward to whisper in your ear, “I’d rather eat you.”

You gasp, instinctively reaching your hand out to hit his shoulder, but he catches it instead and interlocks your fingers together. “Stay and eat with us?”

Your heart melts at the gesture and you inwardly chastise yourself for even ever thinking about someone else when you have a husband as caring and loving as Jay.

You shake your head gently, “I already ate, plus I have to go pick up the twins soon.” You stand on your tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “you should go join the boys before they eat your half as well. I’ll see you at home?”

He whines and leans in for one more kiss, “at least let me walk you to the car?”

You shake your head firmly this time. “I can walk myself to the car, Jay. Go enjoy your lunch, I’m sure your body’s dying for some nutrients. I’ll call you as soon as I get back home.”

You kiss him goodbye and say your farewells to the members before exiting the large dance room. You walk down the corridor not paying attention to your surroundings, you’re in your own little world thinking about how your life has seemed to turn to shit overnight when you hear the faint calling of your name.

Your eyes wander about until they fall onto a lone male standing in front of the lift. Blinking at him, you couldn’t believe your eyes when his profile registers in your head.

Your lips have parted in a mixture of dread and astonishment. You haven’t seen him in almost a decade since you left and returned to Korea. All at once, the memories you’ve shared together come flooding back and you don’t notice you’re staring at him; not even when your phone starts buzzing in your hands.

Your eyes meet and in those few seconds you’re able to see that he’s out of his awkward puberty stage; that he’s finally matured into a man his label had been shaping him up to be. He wasn’t scrawny like before, but he wasn’t ‘soft-looking’ either; he looked lean and in good shape. The faintest shadow under his eyes tells you that touring and practicing must have been shit to him but he was still handsome as ever.

“_____?” The way he says your name hits you with nostalgia. He’s still soft-spoken, but you can’t really imagine him having such a stern voice.

Finally coming to your senses, you take a deep breath and fake a chuckle. “Kai,” You gulp, “Hey.”

“It’s been so long! Wow, you look great.”

It takes a second for his compliment to register in your head as you’re still in shock at seeing him again. “Y-yeah, you too. H-how are you?”

“I’m good, the group’s doing well so not much to complain about.” his eyes shift a bit as he clears his throat. “Congratulations, by the way. I saw on the news, and overheard the other members talking… about your wedding and twins.”

Instinctively, you look down at your hand; to your wedding band. “Ah, yeah. Thanks.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, _____.”

Not knowing what to reply, you nod your head, “Uhm, so what about you?”

He lets out a sad chuckle, “No luck. Touring the world doesn’t really give me that much time to socialize. I’m always on the go.”

“Not even groupies?”

“I guess I'm just not interested in them.” Kai shrugs with a half smile on his face, displaying how chiseled his face was. “Still caught up on an ex.”

You shiver at his words, “still caught up on an ex.” were you by any chance said ex? You slightly shake your head. It shouldn’t matter if it’s you. You’re married and a mother, you can’t betray your husband like that and put your family at risk. Whatever lingering feelings you’re holding on to need to be dealt with and put aside. Kai isn’t someone worth losing your family over.

Before you can reply, suddenly, someone steps beside you, pressing a kiss on your temple and wraps their arms around your waist tightly, making your blood run cold. Looking up, Jay smiles sweetly at you but gives the complete opposite glance at Kai. “You dropped your wallet, love.”

You clear your throat and nod, “thank you.” You unravel his arm from your body and take your wallet from his free hand. “I should really get going now. It was nice seeing you again Kai.” You offer him a tight lipped smile and move to walk past him but Jay grabs onto your hand and intertwines your fingers. “Let me walk you to the car.” You turn to look at him ready to tell him it’s not necessary but the way he says it makes it sound like a command and the way he stares at you shows there’s no room for disagreement. He nods his head in acknowledgement at Huening before walking past him, purposely bumping shoulders with him. You outwardly cringe at the clear jealousy in his eyes and show of masculinity. The two of you enter the elevator in silence, you hate how tense the atmosphere has become. Jay squeezes your hand one last time before releasing it.

He lets out a deep sigh, nodding, “do you still love him?”

You blink up at Jay, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Do you still love Kai? You always thought you did during your freshman year, but never really thought about it again when you left. When Jay came into the picture, you knew you loved him - probably more than you did Kai, but were you just going to disregard your entire past with Kai?

“He only meant something to me before, you know that.” You could hear your own heartbeat thumping from your chest as you anticipate his next words.

“You look at him the way I look at you.” He turns his head to face you, “you look at him the way I wished you would look at me when we first started dating. Like he holds the whole universe in his eyes.” He gulps as he clenches his fists, “you look at him like you’re in love with him.”

You wipe your clammy hands against your jeans as Jay's words ring in your ears. Do you really look at him like that?

“You’re not even going to deny it?” he scoffs and glares down at your shorter figure. “This morning you couldn’t even tell me that he’s a part of your past, G-God! I should have known!”

You shake your head, “Jay..”

He only speaks over you. “Why are you still hung up on that piece of shit? Are you forgetting everything he put you through? Why aren’t I enough for you? No- fuck that, why isn’t the life we’ve built together enough?”

You reach out to grab his hand, praying he doesn’t pull away. To your relief and mild shock, he doesn’t. “It is! It’s more than enough, Jay! I-I love you, and the twins. I can’t picture my life without the three of you!”

He nods and grips your hand back with the same ferocity you’re holding on to his. “Okay, then look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t love him anymore.”

You lick your lips and look down at the ground. You know what your answer should be yet that’s not what it is and you’ve never lied to your husband. You’re not going to start now.

“I-I don’t know what I feel for him.”

You’re heartbroken by your own admission, but even more so with how Jay releases a deep sigh and your hand; brows meeting at the middle of his forehead as he rips his gaze away from you. You could see his hands ball up into fists against his sides. His breathing is deep and slow; his tongue slowly licking across his bottom lip.

You should say something; explain it further to him. “J-”

The elevator dings and the doors separate. You sniff to hold in your tears as new people enter the lift.

“You should go. The twins are waiting.”

Your head snaps to look at Jay but he makes it a point to avoid your gaze. “B-but you said you would walk me to the car.”

He slowly shrugs. “It’s not like you wanted me to. Besides, being around you right now is too painful. I’ll see you at home.”

The elevator doors close with one last ding and your husband is whisked back up to the 10th floor leaving you all alone in the middle of the reception area crowded by HYBE staff. You try your best to contain your tears as you rush back to the parking garage. You shoot Chaeyoung a text to let her know you’ll be late to pick up the kids, when she lets you know that it’s alright you toss your phone and book it out of the parking lot.

You know you shouldn’t be driving while so high on emotions but you can’t stay anywhere near that fucking building.

Not wanting to go home to silence, you drive to your second safe place. Where you know you won’t be judged and your worries seemingly just melt away.

You frantically knock on the door to Yujin’s home, wondering what the fuck was taking her so long to open the damn door.

“Who is it?”

You choke on a sob and seize your rapid knocking, “i-it’s me”

“_____?”

You nod and resume your knocking, “just let me in!” You hear the click of the lock coming undone before the door swings open and Yujin steps aside to let you in. She takes in your frantic appearance and takes cautious steps towards you, not wanting to set you off even more.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You place your right hand over your chest as you wheeze, finding it hard to breathe. “I really fucked up.”

You slap a palm over your mouth when a loud sob comes out of your mouth.

Before your body starts to fold as you fail to control your sobbing, Yujin’s arms are around you, encasing your frame against her chest. There’s no point in pushing her away. You’re tired in every aspect and it feels like the only thing to relieve you of that stress is to cry it out.

Your knees give in so suddenly, catching her off guard that she stumbles back a little; balancing your weights until she has both your bodies settled on the floor with her back against the white wall.

“It’s going to be okay,” she shushes you gently and strokes at your back as you sob into her clothes. She allows you to cry to your heart's content and calm down before asking you if you’re ready to speak on what’s caused you to break down.

“I should have listened,” you whine, shaking your head in disbelief. “I should have listened to you when you told me to leave it alone, I-I don’t know why I didn’t!”

“What happened, _____?”

You look up at her with watery eyes. “I really fucked up Yujin…” She sighs and adjusts the way she’s sitting.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, love.”

You sniff and play with the hanging thread on your shirt. “I...I saw Kai today.” You timidly look into Yujin’s eyes, searching for any judgment in them but her face is passive. “I went to drop off lunch for Jay and the boys and ran into him on my way out.”

“Was that...the first time you’ve seen him since what went down?” Yujin softy asks.

You nod, “it was too painful to face him when I came back and Jay just hated me being near him so I guess I always made it a point to avoid him at all functions I knew he would be at.”

Yujin nods, “did something else happen?”

You close your eyes and bite down on your bottom lip, “an article dropped this morning about my past relationship with Kai and Jay asked me if Kai really was in my past but I dodged the question...he also saw Kai and I together and asked me privately if I...if I still love him.”

Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up, “...and what did you say?”

You scratch your neck and open your eyes, “I told him I don’t know what I feel for him.”

A heavy silence falls over the two of you as Yujin goes over your words. “What the actual fuck, _____?”

You sigh. “I know, I know I fucked up, okay? But Yujin these past few months I haven’t felt like...like myself.” You wipe your nose and try to find the right words. “I’m not saying I don’t love Jay, because I love that man with everything in me but when I think back to Kai-before everything went to shit it feels like everything’s normal again.”

“When I saw him today, it’s like something clicked. I felt like the old me again, for a brief second everything seemed clear and like the haze that I’ve been in ever since the twins turned six months just- vanished!”

Yujin waits for you to finish your rant before she gives you her opinion on the topic. “I don’t think this was ever about Kai.”

You look at her questioningly, “what..?”

Yujin sits up and reaches for your hands. “I should have paid more attention to you when you called me that night, _____. Everything you said then and now...it’s clear. This isn’t about Kai, you don’t miss him or your past relationship with him. You miss the person you used to be when you were with him.”

You shake your head, “n-no.”

Yujin cuts you off and goes on, “-Everything you’ve said- reminiscing on the past, who you were, feeling like a part of you was missing? _____, you’re so focused on Kai and what could have been because you never got the proper closure for what happened. He betrayed you in one of the worst ways and left you with so many unanswered questions. Now that you’ve moved on and experienced a new you, you’re finally having the chance to reflect on the version of yourself that you lost and never got to properly say bye to.”

She reaches for your hand, “...it also sounds like you might be dealing with postpartum depression. It doesn’t kick in until 6 months, maybe even a year after birth. And before you disagree, it’s not just not being able to bond with your kids, it’s feeling lost and hopeless, heightened anxiety...wishing you were someone else.”

You feel as if a weight lays heavy on your shoulders as you process her words. Postpartum depression? The way she gingerly explains it makes it easier to understand and process. It makes everything you’ve been dealing with more clear, your conflicting thoughts and feelings for Hueningkai finally seem to fall into place.

“I-I think you might be right, I definitely need to sort things out with Jay and schedule an appointment with my therapist but thank you for being here for me.”

Yujin softly smiles, “I hope you do actually schedule that meeting with your therapist. Don’t prolong this, and I’m sure Jay will come around. Just explain everything and be truthful. You know he can’t stay mad at you.”

You open your mouth to correct her but your phone buzzes in your pocket before you get the chance. You take it out and see a notification from Sunoo. You open the message and see a link to a website. The header for the article leaves you winded.

Hueningkai of TXT issues a personal letter regarding his past relationship stating he’s still in love with his ex.

You don’t bother reading the attached message Sunoo sent and slap Yujin’s arm to get her attention. She looks over your shoulder and gasps as she skims the article as well.

Hueningkai’s apology:

Moa~ recently it has come to light about a past relationship of mine. I’m sorry for belatedly relaying news of said relationship now but I can not apologize for being a normal teenager and wanting to experience the thrill of a relationship.

I don’t know how the media was able to get a hold of such private information and I sincerely apologize to those who were caught in the crossfire.

It’s true that my past lover is Park _____, the wife of my label mate. If there’s anyone who deserves a sincere apology, it’s her. She has done nothing to warrant the hate she has been receiving, people have been making attacks on her morals, character and parenting skills. All of which have nothing to do with the situation at hand, she is an exceptional being and an even greater mother.

We have not engaged in an affair of any type, I have only met with her once, today being the first in nearly eight years.

However, I can not lie and say I haven’t missed her. Seeing her in person today reinforced my feelings, I never once stopped loving her.

I’ve caused her an immense amount of pain and a lifetime worth of trust issues and I can only hope one day she forgives me. But until then, I’ll do everything in my power to right my wrongdoings.

-Hueningkai.

“What the fuck.” You whimper, how could he do this? His ‘apology’ did nothing but add more fuel to the fire. You can only imagine how Jay is reacting to this. You pray he hasn’t made any reckless decisions.

You scroll down to the comments to see how it’s being received by the public.

omo he’s so brazen 💀 +366

she’s a married woman with children...this is a bit…. +987

she’s really been passed around 😭 -217

i wonder just how many more hybe men she’s slept with +38

he’s only made her seem cheap ㅠㅠ -21

i wonder what her husband is thinking… +765

it sounds as if he cheated… +92

i wonder why they called things off if he’s still in love with her 🤔 +10

8...years..? (°_°) -65

“The internet thinks I’m a whore.”

Yujin reassuringly pats your back, “they don’t know anything and you don’t owe them an explanation.”

You shut off your phone, “that’s not the point, Yujin. i’m being slut shamed and vilified because my ex doesn’t know when to keep private information private and my husband’s pissed off with me and this probably made it worse!”

“Then talk to him, _____. He’s rightfully upset because you still don’t know how to properly communicate with him even after all these years. It’s not too late to fix things with Jay and this whole Kai situation will work itself out once you work things out at home.”

You sigh, maybe she’s right? “I should get going, I still have to pick up the kids and make dinner. I’ll let you know how things go once I talk to Jay.”

You say your goodbyes before leaving to go to Chaeyoung’s home to pick up your babies.

It isn’t until 9:30pm do you finish with your household chores. You made sure to feed and wash up the twins, cook dinner for both you and Jay, clean the kitchen and catch up on laundry. You even made it a point to clean Jay's home office for him.

He doesn’t get home for another three hours. He walks right past you and barely acknowledges your presence. He checks in on the twins who are fast asleep and gets himself ready for bed. You try and get him to talk to you, to say anything but he only tells you he’s tired and falls asleep facing away from you for the first time ever in your relationship.

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

Three days pass by of the cold shoulder from Jay. He makes it a point to wake up before you and leave early in the mornings for work. On the rare occasion you happen to wake up before him however, he takes his time in getting ready to avoid having to sit down for breakfast with you and simply kisses the twins goodbye before murmuring out an I love you in your direction and leaving.

Simply put, you’re over it. You want your clingy and loving husband back. Luckily for you, today’s Sunday The one day you know is promised for you. He doesn’t have studio time on Sunday’s because you all go to your in-laws to have a family brunch and come back home for a weekly reset. Granted he slept in today and you missed brunch but you still have a chance to make things right. You asked your parents to babysit for you so you would have the house to yourselves for a bit. That way all the pent up anger can finally come out without the fear of upsetting the kids.

“Where are the twins?”

You look up from your tablet where you have been outlining points you want to make during your conversation with him.

“I had my parents come get them while you were sleeping.”

He sighs, “why?”

You fiddle with the apple pen in your hands, “because we need to talk and we can’t do that if we have to censor our words because our kids are in the house.”

He stares at you blankly for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t have much to say to you, _____.”

You sigh and push aside the iPad, “yes you do. Just get it off your chest Jay! This marriage won’t work if you keep avoiding me and keep your emotions bottled up!”

He slams his hands down on the kitchen counter and huffs, “what the fuck do you want me to say, _____?” He looks at you furiously, chest rising erratically. “That I’m pissed off with you? That I feel like I can’t trust you anymore? That I feel like you never even loved me?” Your heart breaks as you listen to his rant but you don’t stop him, you need to let him get it off his chest in order to actually heal and move on from this.

“I was the one who was there for everything, I’m the one you came to when you returned to Korea! Hell I’m even the one who put everything on the line for you when I found out what he did to you! And yet, you were still in love with him. You couldn’t even pretend to be half as in love with me as I was with you when we first started dating. So yeah, I’m pissed off that now, years later- as my wife, you still can’t open up to me the way you opened up to him within four months of dating.”

You sniff and nod. “I do love you, Jay. I always have and y-yeah, maybe I wasn’t upfront with my feelings for you when we first got together but that doesn’t change anything!”

“But it does! It does change everything, _____! Do you know what it feels like to know you’ll never be enough for the person you love? It feels like fucking hell! And that stupid article didn’t make things any better!”

You stand from your seated position to embrace him but he only shakes his head and backs away. “J-jay, that article has nothing to do with what I feel for you! I’m sorry I keep hurting you, I’m sorry I’ve put us in this position but you have to trust me when I say that Huening really is in my past!”

“How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve given me every reason not to.” He blinks away his tears and clears his throat. “I need to work on some lyrics for our new album. I’ll be in my office.” Jay exhales, walking around the counter and past you.

“B-but it’s Sunday.”

Both of you promised each other that as much as possible, Sundays are days off. Unless it’s extremely urgent, neither of you are allowed to work.

“It’s still Saturday in Seattle.” And without another word he retreats to his home office

Confused and guilty, you don’t know what to do in your own home. It takes about ten minutes for you to gather your bearings and finish up the dishes from breakfast. You can’t even think of coherent thoughts, mindlessly doing the chore until you’re finished and feel lost again with what you could do. After another five minutes pass, you decide to head to the bathroom and sit in the bathtub for an hour.

Once you dry off from your bath, you apply your usual skincare and opt out of putting on any makeup aside from some lip balm. You spritz on a little perfume and get dressed in some gym shorts that hug your butt and a loose fitting top before heading back downstairs to the kitchen to make Jay a plate of food to bring to him, praying that by now he’s cooled off a bit.

As carefully as you can, you quietly walk over to where his home office is and peer through the crack. You want to roll your eyes at what you see; Jay slumped back on his couch, his game console controller in his hands, and an annoyed, but focused expression on his face as he stares at the fifa game he had going on.

“lyric writing, my ass.” You mutter, knocking on the door to alert him before opening it. “I brought you some lunch.”

“Thanks. Just leave it there.” Jay mumbles, still concentrating on his game as he nods his head towards his coffee table.

Your heart drops; he didn’t even spare you a glance. You set the plate to where he gestured and start making your way out until he grabs your hand. You flinch at his sudden action, turning your head to meet his piercing gaze.

He blinks up at you, anger clearly in his eyes, he slowly stands up and discards the controller on his seat. You’re starting to feel small when he’s towering above you. After a long stare-off, he breaks the silence, “Where’s your ring?”

You look down at your hand and it only hits you now that you forgot to put your ring back on after you finished your skincare. “In the bathroom; I took it off to do my skincare.”

He’s breathing deeply; the strength of his hand around your wrist varies.

You take this as an opportunity, while his attention is on you. “Jay please” You don’t know what it is you want from him so you do what seemed like the best choice; you step closer and kiss him.

He doesn’t respond though; just closing his eyes in response.

“Jay.” You whine, running your hands up his arms and tiptoeing to kiss him once more, but his hand comes up to your neck and holds you in place, making you gasp in shock.

“How far did you two go?”

You grow flustered with his question; wanting to run away but his gentle hold on your neck keeps you planted. “Jay…”

He dips his head down, ghosting his breath over your cheek. “Surely, you two kissed. Probably made out, right? Was he any good?”

“Not as good as you-”

Jay scoffs and pulls away, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip deliberately, “You don’t have to stroke my ego sweetheart so answer my question.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I-I don’t know. I guess?”

He purses his lips briefly before clicking his tongue. His eyes drag down your body, tracing a path with his palm, “Did you ever get touchy with each other? Any below the belt touching?”

You can feel your arousal growing as he applies a bit of pressure to your neck, “Jay, I-”

“Just answer the question, baby.” He hushes, racing his free hand up to your chest, palming one of your breasts. “Did he do this to you?”

“Yes.” You whimpered, arching your body towards him; desperate for more.

“And being the little slut that you are,” He pulls you closer to growl into your ear, “I bet you liked it, doll?”

He flips you around, pinning you to the door and presses his erection into your ass. He still has a hand on your right breast, kneading it a little more roughly now. You loudly moan at the sudden turn of events, putting your hands flat against the wall to stop him from completely crushing you against it.

His left hand begins to travel dangerously low on your stomach while his hips are still rutting against yours, “Did his hands ever touch you here?”

“No.” You resolutely denied, “you’re the only one.”

He hums in approval, but his hands are back on your breasts, which makes you whine again.

“Please touch me.”

Ignoring your request, he kisses your neck, “So that’s all you did?”

You moan and nod your head adamantly. Jay steps away from you, cold air intruding the warmth his body provided. You impatiently look back at him, wondering why he pulled away.

Jay releases you completely and kneels before pulling down your shorts causing you to gasp at the cold air that hits your clit.

Jay lets out a hum of approval. “Spread those legs for me, Kitten,” he says - though from the domineering tone, you know it’s more of an order. Without question you obey. The moment your legs are splayed wide. Large hands spread your thighs further before Jay presses his head between - then, he tentatively presses his tongue to your clit.

“Ah-” you gasp out, your hips automatically bucking into his face at the roughness of his tongue. Once again, he chuckles before licking a swipe from your cunt all the way to your ass. Your back automatically arched, pushing your hips further into his face. Jay teases you with a couple more kitten licks before pushing his tongue into your dripping hole, swirling his tongue around and collecting all your arousal on his tongue. He laps deep into you, thrusting his tongue in and out, palming his cock as you ride his face. Gently suckling on your clit, Jay presses his nose to your clit, expertly locating your g-spot and causing vibrations of pleasure to strum along them. Your vocal cords strained, voice cracking as you let out another cry. You feel your pussy walls ripple, abdomen twisting into a wrenching knot inside of you as he continues lapping your clit.

You simply can’t catch your breath, your head lolling helplessly to the side as your shoulders slump. You quickly feel your orgasm approach, the knot in your stomach twisting even further as Jay drives you to the brink of pleasure. Your hips move instinctively, grinding your pussy against his eager face as Jay buries it deeper between your thighs.

“I’m- oh gosh I’m going to cum” You warn, voice raspy and throat raw. You breathe deeper, gasps turning into low moans as your body seizes up, eyes rolling deep into the back of your skull as you come around his skillful tongue. Jay feels you gush around his mouth and lets up a bit to catch his breath before diving back as he licks and swallows up all of your cunt juice. You try to push him away, thighs still quivering as he continues eating you out. You squeal, the overstimulation of your orgasm paired with his continued ministrations driving you wild.

You feel him pull away, exhaling as your pussy finally has some relief. However, it doesn’t last long before suddenly Jay stands and grabs the back of your neck to pull you into a sloppy kiss, all wet from your saliva. You respond immediately; hands flying to his shoulders and hoisting yourself up on his body, prompting him to carry you by your thighs.

“You’re so fucking spoiled.” He groans. He reaches from below to push his pants down and slips his shaft in.

A moan erupts from your throat; his length slipping in easily with your arousal. You cling onto his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he starts pounding into you with immense force. You’re moaning in pleasure when his hands are practically clawing at your hips, ramming himself deeper and deeper.

Jay slowly makes his way out of his office making his way to what you assume is your bedroom but stops at the foot of the staircase and gently places you down on the first few steps, his dick not once leaving you. He puts you down to spin you around and enters you from behind; you’re convinced that your hips are bruised at how his fingers are digging into them to help him control the pace

“Jay.” You moan, barely holding yourself up by your forearms. You reach beneath you to try and stimulate your clit, wanting just a little more something to climax.

He stops you from touching yourself, grabbing both your wrists and holds them behind you. He’s pushing all of his weight up into you, practically lying on top of you. His skin is hot and sweaty, sliding against your back.

It’s almost too much - the pleasure, the emotions, and the love you feel. Your heart begins palpitating in your chest, beating so hard and fast that your chest begins to ache. “Jay,” you whine, the sound high-pitched as you squeal from his ministrations, “I’m cumming,” you whimper though, Jay doesn’t need the warning. He already knows your orgasm is impending, from the way your thighs begin shaking and the way your walls clamp around him.

“Ah. AH- AH! Jay!” you finally sob. Your peak hits a crescendo, and your orgasm ricochets through you with more force than you expected. Jay groans, feeling your pussy ripple uncontrollably around his cock before tightening. Your walls contract rhythmically, and suddenly, his hips still as he begins cumming.

Rope after rope of Jay’s cum slowly fills you. His warmth practically burns inside you, coating your walls white and claiming every single piece of you as his. His cum spills out of you once he pulls out and he rests his forehead on your shoulder as both of you catch your breaths, rolling off of you.

Soon, you’re turning to face him. You lean in and place a kiss on his lips, this time he responds to it; opening his mouth so you could slip your tongue in.

Without breaking off the kiss, he sits up and cradles one side of your face with his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He quietly says in between kisses.

“I’m sorry, too.” You curl up into his chest as he leans back on the bannaster. “I should have just been honest from the start. You deserve to know.”

Jay combs back your hair for you, “You don’t have to talk about it today.”

“No. I don’t want to put it off any longer.”

“Okay, let’s get cleaned and dressed first.” He kisses your cheek before standing, helping you up as well.

Jay helps you clean up and carries you up the stairs to bring you into your shared room, he wipes you down with a warm cloth and dresses you in his boxers and oversized graphic before leaving to enter the bathroom to clean himself up as well to get dressed.

Five minutes later, Jay is back and clothed; sporting another plain tee and boxers. Sitting beside you, he patiently waits for you, angling his body to face yours.

“When you asked me if he was a part of my past I should have told you what I was thinking instead of avoiding the topic,” You pick at the bedsheets, “Kai and I were always complicated, and I can’t say I miss that or him but I do miss who I was before I lost him.”

You sigh, “these past few months have been hard and I should have told you when I first started feeling less like myself. I guess I thought it was all in my head and I didn’t want you to think it was you… I love you and what I feel for Kai-”

Jay tips his head at your sudden pause.

“What I felt for Kai, is nowhere near what I feel for you. He’s a part of my past and..,” You shake your head, “and I’m sorry for being so shady about it. I don’t look at Kai the way I look at you, I never can because I don’t love him. And it’s something that’s taken me time to realize but, I don’t miss Kai. I miss who I used to be when I was with him, before he ruined that.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you in the process of trying to figure out my shit but I can assure you that no part of me is in love with him. I’ve been feeling differently and it’s not because of anything you did or said,” You nervously laugh, “I talked to Yujin about it and she totally went all psychologist on me, but she thinks this is all stemming from a larger problem… she thinks I might have postpartum depression..”

He lifts his hand to your cheek to wipe away a stray tear you didn’t even know fell from your eye. “Postpartum depression?”

“Mmmh. My issues are stemming from my inability to let go of who I used to be to allow myself to be who I am now.” You inhale as deep as you can and exhale with an awkward laugh, “I booked a therapy session with Dr. Lee for Tuesday, we’ll know more then.”

Jay pulls you to him, kissing your forehead, “I’m sorry for not paying closer attention. I’m even more sorry that I’ve been such a jackass to you recently.”

“I should have communicated better.”

“Yes, you should have but as your husband I shouldn’t have missed the signs. I’m so sorry baby.”

You lean into him, slinging your arms over his shoulders. “Are we okay?”

He smiles softly and nods. “Of course we are.”

He grins, nose scrunching at how you curl up like a cat to cuddle his chest. You run your fingers over his hair, slowly and repeatedly, reciprocating the little smile splayed on his face. His lips are on your shoulders and neck, softly sucking on patches of your skin and murmuring sweet nothings.

“I love you.”

You’re sat on the couch in your living room with Jay and his publicist with a random kdrama playing faintly in the background while the twins take their afternoon nap upstairs. It’s been a week since Hueningkai’s apology dropped and the press and fans are still raving over it.

There are protests outside HYBE demanding Hueningkai be pulled out of further TXT promotions indefinitely while some fans are still shading you and your integrity on Twitter. You never imagined your life would become such a hot topic yet here you are.

“We need to satiate the media,” Jay’s publicist, Jaemin, places down his coffee on the coaster in front of him and clears his throat, “I’ve talked it over with your manager, members and the CEO himself. We believe a statement from the two of you and the third party is a good way to clear the air and show to the public that there is no animosity or anything scandalous going on.”

You feel Jay squeeze your hand as he mulls over what has been said. “Why a statement? Where would it be posted? Is this really the best option?”

You pat his knee and chuckle at him, “what is this? 20 questions? At least let the man get a word in.”

Jay sighs and turns to face you. “I’m sorry, it’s just… the press has been slandering you all week and I don't want this statement to fuel that fire.”

Jaemin nods. “I understand your want to protect your wife from the malicious comments being made online and I can assure you that we will be reading all drafts and making edits as needed so it can’t be interpreted in a different way.”

Jay wearily looks at Jaemin before looking back at you. “I...I’m all for it only if you’re comfortable with it, love.”

You look at the two boys and ponder the possible outcomes. “I think we should do it. It’ll clear any and all tension and we can all finally move on.”

Jaemin smiles and stands, fixing his suit he says. “Great. I’ll leave you two then, send your final drafts to me and they’ll be revised, sent back over to you to read one last time before being posted on Weeverse. Your manager should be in touch soon, Jay.”

You and Jay stand as well to see him out. You thank him for his time and watch him drive away before going back inside.

“You’re awfully quiet… Do you want to talk about it?” You ask once you’re seated back on the couch. Jay spares you a glance before sighing and placing his hands on his knees.

“I know I said I would support your decision no matter what it was but.. are you sure you can handle this, _____? That it won’t be triggering for you?”

You purse your lips as you stare at his side profile. “I’m not on the verge of a mental breakdown, Jay. I’m stronger than you think.”

He turns to face you and takes your right hand in his. “I know you’re strong, _____. Your strength is a part of why I fell in love with you to begin with. I’m just thinking about what Dr. Lee said.”

You sigh as you think back to your joint therapy session with Jay two days ago. You opted to attend the first one alone, you didn’t think you could be completely upfront with your therapist had your husband been there in fear he would be disappointed with himself and blame himself for your actions and emotions. Once you had gotten the initial meeting over with, you scheduled a joint one with him for Thursday. It went better than you anticipated.

Jay takes a seat on the lounge chair beside you and peeks at you, letting out a sigh when he sees your face, “sweetheart, you being nervous is making me nervous.”

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head, “I just know things will be different once the hour is over.”

It breaks his heart more than it scares him that you think it’ll be that way. He squeezes your knee to stop it from bouncing. “Different isn’t always bad, I’ll better know how to care for you. This is what we need my love.”

There’s a knock on the door before it opens. A slender female walks in, wearing a black skirt and a baby pink blouse, and smiles brightly at both of you. “Ah, so this is the infamous Jongseong! A pleasure to finally meet you.”

He stands up to shake her hand and offers a smile, “likewise.”

She smiles once more at you as she sits down on the armchair and taps her finger on the clipboard she brought in. “So, shall we begin?”

You look at Jay and he nods at her, easing back in his seat.

She leans forward and crosses her legs.“How have you two been? The twins?”

“We’re doing okay, better than we were last week.” Jay answers, “the twins are good too. They’re spending the day with my mother.”

Dr. Lee nods her head at him. She turns to you, “You must be excited, I know I would be if I got some alone time away from my children.”

You feel your cheeks warm up, “the quiet home is nice, it’s been a while since I could hear a pin drop.”

She hums before looking down at her notes.“During our last session_____ explained to me feelings of loneliness and isolation, has she explained this in any detail to you Jongseong?”

You didn’t think she’d segway into your postpartum so abruptly; your mouth opens, but you shut it immediately. It’s not your turn to speak.

“She has, very briefly though. It was after we had an argument about her ex, I was upset and I also felt…betrayed. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just put him and their relationship to rest. I only really became more empathetic when she explained she might be dealing with a mental disorder.”

“I see. _____ did mention an argument during our last session.” Dr. Lee says as she makes some new notes in your chart before returning her attention to Jay, “I’ll get into her diagnosis in a bit but first, I’d like to know something. _____ explained to me the fight you had in the elevator and everything that followed..”

“It might be difficult for you, Jongseong, but I’d like to ask what you were thinking of from when you walked in on Kai conversing with _____, to confronting her in the elevator, until the night ended.”

“I tried calling her before I left to look for her but she wouldn’t answer and when I saw her holding her phone and talking to Kai, blatantly ignoring my call it just made me feel second place to him again. It didn’t help that she couldn’t be clear about her feelings, all I wanted to do after that was go back and punch the smug look off his face.”

“I see. Why were you so mad at Kai? He wasn’t the one who hurt you, so why take your anger out on him?”

Jay doesn't answer immediately, trying to properly think through his response. “He hurt _____ yet she was still hung up on him. I didn’t think it was fair that he continuously got a second chance with her when he never deserved it to begin with, all I ever wanted was for her to love me as much as she loved him...to open up to me like she did with him.”

“Hasn’t she?”

“No. It feels like I always have to argue with her before she tells me how she truly feels.”

Dr. Lee nods, “Well, what if I told you she has? She might not flat out tell you what she’s thinking like she did with Kai but you can’t expect her to.” She sits up straight and places her chin in the palm of her hand. “The one person she trusted enough to open up to betrayed her trust in multiple ways. It won’t be easy to do it again. While she might not be at the level of completely opening up, she’s doing it in her own way. When she feels as if she’s ready, she comes to you, she takes her time to think her thoughts through so as to not hurt you. There’s no doubt that she needs to work on her communication skills but at the very least, she’s trying.”

You look at Jay to see how he’s receiving the news but his face is blank.

Dr. Lee watches Jay as well, waiting for a beat to pass before she clears her throat, “I officially diagnosed _____ with postpartum depression, also known as PPD. It’s a continuous pattern of mood swings, restlessness and reduced ability to clearly think. People with PPD can go through very intense episodes of emotions, such as anxiety and depression.”

She pauses to let him process the information, seeing his brows furrow ever so slightly.

“Symptoms of PPD,” she continues, “are feelings of loneliness and loss of self. People with PPD will often seek out people or things from their past to prevent this from happening; along with this, because they’re so focused on their past and what feels like is missing they can’t allow themselves to focus on the lives they have now.”

You don’t say anything, even though you feel like you should. But still, you don’t comment on it and nod at her. “This can lead to a lack of bonding with their children. While _____ hasn’t shown much trouble connecting with the twins there’s still a chance it could happen if we don’t properly care for her.”

“Is this treatable?”

“Yes, there are many options such as medication, therapy and even self soothing measures but your wife has elected to not medicate. For _____, this is what we call cognitive behavioral therapy; a type of therapy that tries to identify and change negative thinking and pushes for positive behavioral changes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get closure and putting this behind us.”

Jay nods and leans in to kiss your forehead, “okay. If you feel you’re ready then I won’t push.”

Later that evening the two of you sit down to draft your personal statements regarding the current situation before sending them off to Jaemin to revise. The edits are quickly made that night before being sent to you to read. Once receiving the stamp of approval from the two of you both are posted to Weverse and the response is rather surprising. You’re met with sympathy and grace, fans understanding how hard you must have had it these past few days. Engene step up and start trending tags for both you and Jay and you feel relief all over your body.

While Jay wasn’t your first boyfriend, your first kiss nor was he even your first love, he was the only love for you. And that’s the only love that matters, the only one that’ll last and go the distance. It’ll always be him.

#enhypen imagines #jay smut #jay imagines #jongseong x reader #park jongseong #jay x reader #enhypen jongseong #jongseong smut #enha imagines #hueningkai #hueningkai imagines #enhypen jay #jay angst #jay park

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colourstreakgryffin · 2 months

Note

HIIIIII I'M BACK, my phone was broken for a few days and even when it was fixed I had no inspo for ideas on asks... BUBUBUBUBUT I'M BACK AND I GOT AN IDEAAAA

I've been losing interest in kny recently so I think I'll go along with Hazbin Hotel!!

Hear me out so much, Husk, Cherri, or Vox with reader who does ballet... I do ballet myself and that shit is soohohohoho fucking awesome and painful at the same time, like doing a split while doing a backbend too, not even like a half assed split no no no no no. A perfectly aligned split. I've had so much moments where I thought my legs would just... *pop* like a doll's. BUT ENOUGH OF MY RANTING.

remember to take breaks and drink enough water, you don't have to rush anything. take good care of yourself, make sure you have healthy habits and treat yourself to something today, like going out to a great restaurant! idk but just make sure you treat yourself to something nice today, Chiharu :3

here's terribly deformed Charlie bringing you chocolate milk :3

Haha! I have that EXACT SAME picture! I love terribly deformed Charlie bringing me chocolate milk every Wednesday. Thanks, Lottie! You know Husk’s response to our flexibility is a resounding ‘what the fuck’ and this is my first time ever trying out Cherri! And hey, I won’t write Cherri or Vox, I’ll write both!

Husk

Husk is a sweetheart when it comes to being your boyfriend, trust me. He’s caring, he may be a bit rough with his advice but he only does so in order to protect you. He’s skilled with people and he is happy to help comfort you. His patience is high… but even Husk himself is anxious at getting to see your beloved hobby

Ballet. Well, Husk isn’t against it. He always thought it was such an old hobby. That ballet dancers don’t really exist anymore but then again, he won’t express his thoughts outloud and he gives you thumbs up when watching your practices. It’s very impressive and he isn’t against being at every single practice to performance

You know Husk is freaked out by how flexible you are. Back bends whilst doing full on splits. Satan’s fuck, he is cringing at how a human body can do that but at the same time, he’s so impressed that he just can’t bring himself to hate what he is looking at

Husk is in complete and utter awe when he can review your practice performances. Ballet may be a bit disturbing to him, due to how much it stretches the body’s limits, but it’s also so beautiful, graceful and majestic

Husk can’t pull his eyes off you and he falls into a deep state of enamour. You’re so beautiful, even more than you already are, as you dance. He couldn’t even believe it was possible

Husk is quite protective over you, like I said before, so when you land on your ankle badly, he is rushing onto the stage to check it and carry you out to make sure you’ll heal well. He won’t let you practice or stretch or practice your flexibility until you are doing better

“Honeypot. You will win this dance, I know you will. You’ve done training for years and you look incredible as you dance. Yes, I will be there in the crowd”

Cherri Bomb

Cherri Bomb is an energetic, supportive and joyful girlfriend. One that doesn’t mind getting a bit destructive and carefree with her partner and encouraging them to have more fun with her but has a soft spot. Of course, however, you know she will take your hobby seriously and help you or watch you for you, it’s actually fun to her as well

Cherri actually finds your ballet passion ‘precious and cute’. Something she is all for since it’s such a simple, innocent, harmless favourite activity. She likes making bombs to make things explode, you love to explode the competition and grace the dancefloor stage with your beauty and poise

Cherri may seem like she isn’t much of a dancer, maybe more of a rapper but seriously, she actually is and it’s canon that she is a very skilled dancer so there is no doubt that she is either passing down her own skills in dancing, training you more or dancing with you. She will dance ballet with you and practice two-dancer ballet with you

Cherri will blow up a hole in the wall at your practice ballrooms or your performance ballrooms to make it and she refuses to let anybody else try take care of you if you’re hurt so suspect her to get into a fight, in a crime of protective passion. She wants you happy and safe, she’ll fight for that

Cherri is actually quite fine with how flexible you are and how your warm-up stretching can really stretch out your limbs. The way you lift your leg up until it’s completely vertical and both your pelvis and the underneath of your thigh is visible. She is impressed and asks if you can teach her how to be so flexible. She isn’t as disturbed as the other two, she likes it

Cherri, just like Husk and Vox, falls into a complete and utter admiration at being able to watch you perform and dance. The soothing gentle music has her head dancing as well and her single eye basically widening, she’s more in love now then ever

“Hey-ya, bubblegum. Did’ya have fun on ‘dat stage? I had fun recordin’ it! You looked amazin’, you’ll win this tournament. No problem! Of course, babe, I’ll be in the front row!”

Vox

Vox is a busy man and can be a bit arrogant at times, but he is actually quite a good boyfriend. He gives off good advice and support, he is protective with his power and he is the type to spoil his lover. When he is around, he’d doting, he’s a bit overbearing but because he cares and he makes sure you’ll always feel loved and comfortable with him

Vox is actually quite supportive but he is the voice of reason. He won’t tolerate you overdoing yourself in your precious little hobby, he will encourage to dance ballet but if you go too far, he will step in and correct your behaviours. However, that doesn’t often happen so you can dance all you want at the big practice ballroom he hired out for you and/or dancing with you

Vox isn’t sure how to feel about seeing how flexible you are… it’s pretty hot but at the same time, it’s disturbing. You’re on the floor and you’re stretching your pushed-back leg over your back so much that you’re almost in a wheel-shape with your body. He’s amazed, he is already cheering you on, he’s recording it to brag about he can’t help but feel aroused

Vox, everytime he attends your passionate hobby’s practice and performance events, records it on his phone or on his own face so he can both watch it back to admire you and to show the other Vees that he is the boyfriend of the best ballet dancer in Hell. He sometimes forgets to record it since you look so… incredible

Vox is protective, extremely protective. You’re smaller, you’re weaker. You’re less wealthy and less well off. You require constant guarding to ensure you’ll be able to make it to the next day. If you even slightly land on your ankle awkwardly, he is stomping up to the stage and taking you away so he can check up on you

You know Vox almost drops the camera he is using to record you every professional dance on the stage and he can’t stop thinking about how unbelievably beautiful you look, how you’re as silly and velvety like a swan with your every spin and flex. He takes a few seconds to snap out of his awe over you

“Come now, sweetheart. You’ve done more than enough, that dance can again-kill everybody in this room and you made all those amateurs look pathetic. I want to reward you for this. Don’t you worry, I’ll be at the final performance“

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juyeonszn · 9 months

Text

NECTAR

PAIRING kim sunwoo x f!reader

WORD COUNT 7.14k

GENRES smut ﹒ fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, umm age gap!! reader is like 10 or so years older than sunwoo (it’s never really specified what her exact age is), reader is also eric’s older sister, there’s a bit of spanish thrown in here lol they’re in mexico for vacation what did u expect, sun eric and hak are professional baseball players, there’s a scene where a waitress is kinda icky to reader bc she’s older, i think mentions of alcohol, sunwoo is down BAD down bad to the point of no return it’s crazy, he’s also a horny impatient little shit, soft dom!sunwoo ig idk, oral (m! & f! receiving), face fucking, handjob ish, a little bit of hair pulling, vaginal fingering, So Much Praise, UNPROTECTED SEX pls be safe!!, edging, delayed orgasm kinda, missionary position, creampie, aftercare :P, the last scene is so cute and disgusting i hate couples

SUMMARY despite being nearly a decade older than him, sunwoo’s always had his eyes on you. so when your younger brother invites you to join them on vacation, you fall right into his trap. you can’t really blame him for finally taking the bait after all these years.

MORE woah hey again 😋 this one isn’t as wild as the hyunjae fic, but it has its moments LOLL if u ever read my warnings about this when it was on my wip list, then u know that this was actually an old fic back from when i wrote for anime 😭 i changed a lot tbh but a good chunk of the original plot is still there 👍 i got inspo for the last scene from a tumblr quote my irl posted on instagram isn’t that crazy anyway….. enjoy!!

PLAYLIST nectar — wayv, tangerine love (favorite) — nct dream, delicious — the boyz, passion fruit — the boyz, horizon — jaehyun, moonlight sunrise — twice

When you agreed to go with your younger brother on a vacation in Mexico for a week with his friends, you weren’t sure what you were expecting.

You knew your brother’s friends well. They'd gone to high school together and after partly going their separate ways following graduation, decided to go on yearly trips to make up for any lost time. This year, the destinations were the gorgeous beaches of Mexico. Cozumel, Cancun, you name it. You were hitting all the spots.

Those were the luxuries of being the older sister of a professional baseball player.

From the start of your getaway, every single one of your movements felt like they were being watched. Your skin burned with the heat of mocha brown eyes staring at you. Half of you wanted to point it out to Eric, but figured you’d save yourself from the drama. Besides, you were a big girl and two could play at that game.

The first instance took place before you even left for the trip.

You lived about an hour away from Eric and since you were all taking the same flight, you thought it would be more convenient to just ride to the airport together. And because he was closer to the airport, he offered for you to stay at his and Sunwoo’s apartment. Haknyeon would be meeting you there due to prior engagements with his own team.

When you arrived at your brother’s place, you immediately regretted it. You hadn’t called before going over and Eric happened to be out, leaving you alone with Sunwoo. There was nothing wrong with him, you just hadn’t seen him in a couple years and you were afraid of it being awkward.

The younger male helped you bring your things inside, huffing when he dropped your suitcases in the guest bedroom. He wipes away imaginary sweat from his forehead, blowing out a raspberry as he turns to face you.

“Did you pack bricks in there? Why the fuck was that so heavy?”

You laugh. Sunwoo had always been quite the clown as long as you’d known him. “I’m a girl, what did you expect? We never pack lightly.”

“You can say that again,” he snorts, twisting his torso to pop his back. “Uh, are you hungry? We have some leftover takeout in the fridge ‘cause you know damn well neither of us know how to cook.”

Before you can respond, you’re distracted by the sight of him raising his arms to stretch, his t-shirt riding up to show a sliver of his abdomen. From the way his slender fingers lock above his head to the taut skin peeking behind the fabric, you’re entranced. Your brain finally comprehends the fact that Kim Sunwoo was no longer a teenage boy, but rather a grown man.

He clears his throat, breaking your trance and forcing you to stop staring. Your cheeks flush slightly as you attempt to hide the embarrassment flooding your features. His lips are pulled into a smug grin, making you aware that he caught you. He doesn’t say anything though, keeping the cocky smirk as he leaves the room. (Presumably to go to the kitchen.)

With hefty feet, you drag yourself to follow. He’s already warming up the leftovers for you as you take a seat at the island barstool, resting your chin on your palm and your elbows on the counter. Your moment from a few minutes ago is long forgotten as you become transfixed by him on the other side of the island.

It’s weird for you to think about how much Eric has matured, coming from an older sister’s point of view. But having that same realization for Sunwoo is a completely different can of worms. You watch as he extracts the container out of the microwave and opens a drawer beside him to grab a pair of chopsticks simultaneously, all without skipping a beat.

He spins on his heels to place the food in front of you, pausing when he notices that you’re staring at him again. The glint in your eyes was more wholesome than before and it made his heart stutter in his chest. He slides the container across the surface of the island, leaning closer to you.

It was almost like your gaze trapped him in a spell, taking over his actions and drawing him towards you like a magnet. He’s never wanted you as much as he did right now, seeing you in his home, sitting on the stool in his kitchen. Your eyes widen when you’ve snapped back to reality.

Before he can do anything, the sound of the front door unlocking stops him and he’s stepping away to tidy up his mess as if nothing happened. Eric comes in to greet you happily and life continues on just as it had prior to Sunwoo leaning into your personal space. He acts like it never occurred, laughing along at a stupid joke your brother made.

And for some reason, you thought he would keep pretending nothing happened. What a rude awakening you were in for.

It’s a couple days into your trip and you were sitting on a lounge chair poolside, while Eric and Haknyeon had gone to get drinks. Sunwoo placed himself in the seat next to you, his sculpted chest and torso gleaming in all their tanned glory.

He knew it was wrong of him to pine after his best friend’s sister, but how could he not? There was something about your maturity that drove him crazy. But even if you ignored that, anyone who could see would find you stunningly gorgeous. The sight of you scantily clad in a bikini was enough to make the strongest men weak.

Perhaps it was also the thrill that you were nearly a decade older than him.

At this point, you weren’t sure if the warmth engulfing your body was from the sun or the brunette’s intense gaze, but you want to push your luck, the incident at the apartment still fresh on your mind.

“Sunwoo? Do you mind putting some sunscreen on my back for me?” You ask innocently, grasping the base of the tube firmly. His tongue darts out and swipes across his lips.

She knows what she’s doing, he thinks to himself.

“Yeah, s’no problem,” he responds cooly, standing from his chair to sit behind you on yours.

You’re borderline on his lap, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. Just to fuck with him some more, you reach behind yourself to untie your swim suit top.

You’ve been on this playing field long enough to know when a man wants you, but you’ve never been an easy target. It was like a game of cat and mouse for you. Right when they think they’ve got you, you always seem to be three steps ahead.

This little chase that you were leading Sunwoo on wasn’t any different.

His fingers dance dangerously low on your back, working the lotion into your skin wonderfully. As you’ve gotten older, your body has undoubtedly changed. The fat of your thighs was far more than it was when you were in your early twenties/late teens. Your stomach was lined with stretch marks, no two the same. But even so, you remained ever confident. You wouldn’t put up with anyone who wouldn’t agree that your so-called ‘imperfections’ were beautiful.

After a few minutes, once the trap had been set, you tied your bathing suit back. The ghost of his skilled fingers lingered as you stood from the lounge chair, spotting your brother and Haknyeon walking back.

The brunette had never been denied before. He got what he wanted without fail, and he’d be damned if this was the one outlier. He’d just have to prove to you that even though he was younger, he was more of a man than any you’d ever been with. And that was a promise.

Later that evening, the four of you had gone to your respective rooms to shower and get ready for dinner. Luckily, Eric had used his brain for something good and reserved separate hotel rooms for each of you. ‘Just in case,’ he’d said.

You did the finishing touches of your makeup and checked your phone, finding a text from your brother.

[8:07] eric: we’re all in the lobby

[8:07] eric: just waiting on u

[8:07] eric: but take ur time dear sister pls don’t rush on our account

[8:08] eric: it’s not like we have an uber waiting for us or anything

[8:08] eric: note the sarcasm btw

You roll your eyes as you grab your purse, tossing the device inside. Who was he to talk about how long it took you to get ready? You were in your thirties and you were not about to be bossed around by your little brother. Back when he was still in high school, you were the one telling him to speed up his morning process.

Your dad had gotten a job halfway across the country right before his second year and it crushed him. You remember how upset he was when they broke the news, the thought of packing up his entire life and leaving all of his friends stung. So instead, you got a well paying job and bought a two bedroom apartment for the both of you, that way he could stay and finish out the rest of high school. You made some sacrifices, sure, but you were practically done experimenting in your life. You were in your late twenties by this point, what more was there to do? You’d already graduated from university so helping out your brother was doing everyone a favor.

After living together for nearly three years, you and Eric had grown a lot closer. With such an age difference, it’d been difficult to relate to one another and bond over certain things. When he’d discovered a new phase to go through, you had moved past it years prior. You were always just out of reach from each other until then. It was like the universe itself was trying to bring you together.

Even now, both of you much older, he still calls and asks to come over to your place so he can hang out. You meant just as much to him as he did to you.

The elevator dings, opening so you can stroll towards the group of young men waiting for you. Right when they caught sight of you, you started making your way to the Uber parked under the carport outside of the hotel.

The drive to the restaurant was silent, but you could feel an intense gaze on your form. Purposefully, you’d worn your most revealing outfit. A nice tight dress to hug your matured body and some skinny heels to elongate your legs. You were thankful that your brother wasn’t the type to be overly protective, well aware that his older sister could carry her own by now. However, you think even Haknyeon had started to pick up on your actions and the unspoken tension between you and Sunwoo.

You arrived at your location for the evening, stepping out of the car gracefully. You received multiple stares from other patrons and even a few employees. You weren’t sure if it was because you were just that drop dead gorgeous, or if it was another reason entirely. Maybe they were wondering what three men who looked as young as they did, were doing with an older woman such as yourself.

You don’t have to dwell on it for too long, a host showing the four of you to a booth almost immediately. Shout out to Eric and Sunwoo for having connections.

The seating arrangement ends up with you and Sunwoo on one side, Haknyeon and Eric on the other. You had a feeling this was not a good idea. They’d dropped you right where he wanted.

When the waitress comes to take your drink order, you feel the toasty warmth of a hand on your thigh, nearly tripping you up as you point out a margarita on the rocks from the menu. After she jots everything down, she taps her pen against the tablet. She then gestures between your party.

“Are any of you dating?” she asks curiously, eyeing you with a quirk to her brow. To anyone else, it’s a normal question. Eric, Haknyeon, and Sunwoo were indeed good looking guys. (One of them was your brother, of course he was attractive— where do you think he got it from?) But you could see right through her fake act. She had to have recognized the three baseball players.

“Haha, no actually. She’s my sister.” Eric chuckles, pointing at you with his thumb. She narrows her eyes momentarily before covering it up with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ah, tú hermana.” She tries to laugh off, but when the boys furrow their eyebrows, she realizes it fell upon deaf ears. You fight the urge to burst into laughter at how stupid they were.

“She said ‘your sister’ in Spanish. Idiots, I swear.” You explain to the still confused table. They let out a chorus of ‘ohhhh’s in response. Learning Spanish was something you’re glad you did, seeing as you sometimes needed to translate during your trip. You would definitely hold it over them when you got back.

The waitress seems to notice how close you and Sunwoo are sitting, but doesn’t call you out on it. While the other two are oblivious to her fixation, the brunette catches on quickly, squeezing the inside of your thigh as she continues her silly little version of twenty questions.

“Cuantos años tienes?” She asks you personally, realizing that you can understand her. What ever happened to girls supporting girls?

“How old are you?”

“En mis treinta.” You answer without hesitation, not exactly telling her for the sake of your own satisfaction. The press of Sunwoo’s fingers trails upward, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“In my thirties.”

You can sense that she wants to say something snarky to you, her opposition to your age clear as glass, but she chooses not to. Whether that’s because she wants to seem like a good person in front of the boys or otherwise, you couldn’t care less. As long as you hadn’t been disrespected. And you knew if you were, Eric and the guys would jump to defend you with all their beings.

After what feels like a millennium, she finally leaves you alone, even going to the extent of switching tables with another waitress. Was that even allowed? You’re not entirely sure, but at least you didn’t have to deal with someone rude.

The majority of the dinner goes smoothly, the drinks and the food tasting unlike anything you’d ever had. Haknyeon couldn’t stop raving about the different flavors he was experiencing. At some point you think he told the waitress to send his thanks to the chef, in true Haknyeon fashion. That was the majority. The rest of the dinner was spent in absolute agony.

A certain baseball player couldn’t keep his hands to himself, eating with one and teasing you with the other. How no one paid any attention to what was happening right in front of them was beyond you. You’d even accidentally whimpered, covering it up by pretending the food was just that good.

The check couldn’t come fast enough, your body betraying you and anticipating getting back to the hotel. Your brother had different plans, claiming that the night was still young and he wanted to have drinks somewhere else. Your disappointment must’ve been obvious, because Sunwoo comes to your rescue.

“Eric, I think your sister’s ready to hit the hay.” He pats the brunette’s shoulder, one hand on his hip.

“Oh we can head back then—“ You interrupt him.

“No no, it’s fine, Eric, I'll be okay on my own. You guys have fun, don’t let me stop you.” You dismiss him. You could get rid of your problem yourself this way. No one to bother—

“I’ll go with you. Someone’s gotta make sure you get to your room safely, N/N. Besides, I'm beat. The sun’s starting to catch up to me.” Sunwoo grins, ruffling your hair. You glare at him, your irritation coming to light for the first time since you’d landed in the country. You’d done so well at acting like he wasn’t affecting you.

“Alright sick! Thanks, Sunwoo! Hak and I will see you tomorrow I guess,” Eric says. He turns to you, hugging your side. “I'll check to see if you’re still awake later.”

And that was that. You and your brother went your separate ways, ordering two Ubers for the pairs you were in.

It took all of about seconds following the ding of the elevator reaching your floor, for Sunwoo’s lips to meet yours. You jump, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, his large palms supporting you from your ass. It was so attractive that he could hold you like this— showing off the muscles he’s built from all his years of playing baseball, a far cry from that scrawny kid you knew when he was younger

He fumbles with his keycard, waving it frantically in front of the sensor. There’s a flash of green and he pushes the door open wide enough to fit the two of you through its threshold. Never once do your mouths disconnect, kissing each other so feverishly it raises the temperature of the room. He kicks the door closed behind him with his foot, pressing you up against the floor to ceiling mirror-wall beside the bathroom. The heat radiating off of your body fogs up the outline of your figure.

Sunwoo can’t seem to get enough of you, groping and grabbing any part of you that he can. You have to admit, you’ve never felt so needed— so wanted— in your life. In the messiness of teeth clashing and tongues tangling, your desperation begins to run rampant. You whine as he tugs at your bottom lip.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, N/N,” his voice is husky and breathy, his soft pants filling your ears. He pecks your bare shoulder affectionately, cupping your right breast in his hand. “How long I’ve been waiting for you to take me seriously… to let me treat you like a real man should.”

His knee nudges itself between your legs, creating some much appreciated friction momentarily, his erection prominent against your thigh.

“I know that you know what you're doing when you dress like this. All slutty and revealing, showing yourself off to everyone,” his mouth hovers over the skin of your neck, goosebumps littering the surface. “But really, you do it for me, huh? You do it on purpose ‘cause you know how crazy it makes me. You know exactly what I’ve been wanting since we got here. That’s my smart girl.”

You can’t help the small moan that erupts from the back of your throat, his words and the wet feeling of his tongue circling the area he had just been sucking on going straight to the excitement pooling in your belly. He smiles mischievously, thumb running over your clothed nipple.

You’d been so lost in pleasure that you hadn’t even realized he’d moved you to the bed, your back on the fluffy white comforter and your thighs spread apart for him. He takes a hold of the back of his collar and removes his shirt in one swift motion, pushing your dress upward afterwards to assist you in discarding it.

His eyes rake your now half-naked body, the fullness of your tits nearly spilling out from the lacy nude strapless bra you were wearing. He drags a finger along your lace covered slit, his lips curling when he watches you shudder underneath his touch.

“Sunwoo, please…”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, just that you need it. And you need it badly.

“Please, what?” He tsks, now massaging your inner thighs, working you up just like he wants. You pout, hoping to convey the message without pleading. Embarrassment floods your body when you realize he’s not gonna make it easy for you. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

You shut your eyes, hoping to will away the sheer mortification flushing your entire being. “P-please touch me.”

This fuels his ego even further. As if it could get any bigger.

“Open your pretty eyes, baby,” he coos, leaning forward to kiss you. When you obey his request, he hooks his long fingers into the waistband of your panties. “There we go. See, good girls get what they ask for.”

He slides them off, parting your legs immediately. The cool air makes you flinch. The one article of clothing that kept you unexposed was gone now, along with the confident woman from earlier in the day.

He repeats his actions from minutes ago, his pointer finger collecting your slick as it slides through your folds with ease. The squelching sound it makes is horrifying, your shame settling back into place. He kisses the plane of your stomach gently, murmuring into the skin.

“Do you hear that, sweetheart? Do you hear how excited you are for me? There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.”

Your eyes widen at his words, opening your mouth to say something in retaliation but he takes this opportunity to bury two fingers inside of you. A gasp leaves your throat consequently, your back arching on instinct. It had been a while since a man had set aside time for foreplay. He truly was making good on his word, treating you like a real man should.

He lowers himself, positioning his face in front of your pussy and darts his tongue across his lips before flattening it against your clit. The sensation makes you shiver, though that reaction is nothing compared to what happens next. He curls his fingers inside of you, brushing that certain spongy spot that drives you insane, then begins alternating between kitten licking and sucking on the engorged skin of your clit.

You cry out, hands flying down to tug at his hair and dig your nails into his scalp. He doesn’t appear to mind at all, more like he enjoys it, reveling in the way you’re losing yourself to him slowly but surely. It's a dream come true for him. He's finally getting the opportunity to completely ruin you after waiting for-what-felt-like-ever. Horny, teenage Sunwoo would be jumping for joy over this.

He remembers the first time he met you. Eric had invited him, Haknyeon, and other members of the team over to your shared apartment for a team bonding during their second year. The only thought in his mind upon seeing you was ‘damn, I love older women.’ You were just so sure of yourself, he couldn’t help the tightness in his pants and the thumping in his chest.

And those feelings never seemed to fade.

In fact, it appeared that they grew with time. He’d dated other girls since then, especially because he was so popular in high school and in university. Yet for some reason he could never quite pinpoint, things never worked out. They just didn’t feel like the one for him, so he’d end the relationship before anyone got hurt more than they had to. Then the yearly trip would happen and Eric would update him on your life and his crush on you would come rushing back to him.

Even when you’d gotten engaged a few years ago, nothing could stop the way his heart beat only for you and you alone. He didn’t really like the dude all that much, but expressed support for you anyway because he wanted you to be happy. After Eric told him that he broke off the engagement to pursue someone else, Sunwoo just about lost it. He wanted to hunt the guy down himself. He couldn’t fathom how one could just throw away the once in a lifetime opportunity of calling you his. You deserved the world and so much more.

Everything resurfaces and it’s evident in the way his fingers dive even deeper inside of you, his appendage lapping mercilessly at your aching clit. You don’t question him even if you wanted to, your entire body feeling like it’s on cloud 9. He takes a break from licking and sucks at the sweet spot harshly, ripping out a prolonged moan from your lips.

Your release is in your field of vision now, so close that you can nearly taste it. You attempt to buck your hips up into his mouth to chase what you’re yearning for. He senses exactly what’s happening, so he slows his assault, much to your aggravation. You can’t even help the pleas that tumble from the back of your throat.

“No no no no, please,” you sit up, your hands still intertwined with his messy brown locks. “Sun, please… why’d you stop?”

His smile is almost conniving, you swear you can see his canines peeking through. He hovers above you, caging you between his torso and the bed. “You've been having all the fun, so now I think it’s time I have some, too.”

You’re about to ask what he means, when he steps back to undo his belt and zipper, pushing down his pants in record speed. Even through the black material of his (expensive looking) briefs, you can tell he’s well endowed. You rub your legs together, still sensitive from being deprived of your orgasm, and your hunger for all of him increases immensely.

“Eager, are we?” He chuckles, switching places with you. He sits at the edge of the bed, his legs open enough for you to fit between them. You bite your bottom lip, gripping each of his muscular thighs. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get crushed by them. It sure would be a hell of a way to die.

He leans back onto his palms, bunching up the sheets in his fists. You move forward to press your mouths in a searing kiss, cupping his clothed erection in your hand. He groans as his teeth nearly gnash with yours. You seize the chance to discard his underwear and massage his cock. The warmth and length of it makes your mouth water, almost whimpering at how flushed it is. You can tell that he’s painfully hard in the way he’s extremely responsive to all of your touches. You swipe your thumb over his slit, collecting the pre cum that’s formed there.

After deciding that enough is enough, he parts from you in favor of ordering you to get on your knees. You maintain eye contact as you wrap your lips around him, the nerves you’d been feeling all night finally washing off. Your tongue swirls around the tip a few times before it licks a broad line from the base back up along the underside. You take him down your throat this time, massaging his balls as you do so. Your cheeks hollow out as you bob your head, your hands jerking what you can’t fit.

An erratic knock at the door startles both of you and you’re about to remove yourself from him, but he keeps you there with a large hand, urging you to continue. You listen reluctantly, assuming the person would just go away if you ignored them.

However, the knock comes again moments later. Sunwoo looks down at you. His eyes tell you all you need to know, so you don’t stop.

“Sunwoo! Hey, have you seen my sister? She’s not in her room.”

You practically choke on him at the sound of your brother’s voice, but he still doesn’t let you pause. His attention doesn’t leave you as he replies.

“Uh yeah, she’s borrowing my shower. Hers wasn’t working.” He lies. His eyes bore into yours intensely, the knowledge that he had Eric’s hot older sister right here in front of him on her knees shrouding his mind.

The brunette outside seems to find that answer sufficient enough and doesn’t interrogate further. “Okay, cool. Just tell her to text me when she gets back to her room.”

“You got it.”

His footsteps can be heard padding against the carpet of the hallway as he walks away.

Your nose brushes against the hair at the base of his cock before he cups your cheeks and lifts your mouth off of him. You take in a deep breath, keeping your hands on his dick firmly. As you regain your breathing, you leave kisses all over, starting at the tip and ending down the shaft. You feel him shudder beneath you, a satisfaction coming from knowing that you’re the one who has him so weak.

You had Kim Sunwoo wrapped around your pretty little finger.

Unbeknownst to you, that’d always been the case. Since day one. But it didn’t matter at the moment. All that either of you cared about right now was wrecking each other.

He slides his cock down your throat again, loving the sight of you getting face fucked by him. You moan around him, the vibrations causing him to grasp at your hair tightly, though you don’t mind the sting either.

“You look so gorgeous like this, sweetheart. Your lips look so pretty wrapped around me. Can’t wait until I’m inside you,” he hisses when your tongue runs over his slit. “You want me to fuck you into the mattress? Until you can’t even remember your own name?”

You release him from your lips once more, nodding frantically. It’s almost pathetic how needy you are for him, your brother’s best friend, someone nearly ten years younger than yourself. “Yes, please, Sunwoo. I want you so bad. I want you to fuck me so hard, I can’t walk properly.”

His smirk from your pleads is ungodly. He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, pinching it between his fingers before he pulls you up to kiss you roughly. Even though he has this big dominant act up on display, you know he wants you just as much. And he conveys it in the desperate way he moves his mouth against yours with such fervor.

After a few minutes, both of you get sick of wasting time and he flips you around so you’re on your back. He nips at your neck, whispering dirtily as he pumps himself in his hands.

“The only thing I want on your mind is me, you got that?” He lines his dick up with your hole, nibbling on your earlobe while he does so. “The name Kim Sunwoo is gonna be engraved in your fucking brain after tonight.”

Without any semblance of a warning, he pushes himself in, giving you no time for adjustment. His cock fills you up nicely, better than you’ve ever been before, and the feeling alone rips a particularly loud moan out of you. “Oh my god, Sun. Y-you're so big and your cock f-feels so g-good. So s-so good.”

“You’re so tight, your pussy is squeezing me. You gonna cream on my dick?”

He gives you another one of those sly grins, where it’s almost like he’s baring his canines to you, and you swear you’ve never wanted to be ruined as much as you do now.

His pace is unrelenting, nothing but sheer power going into every thrust of his hips. His cock hits places deep inside that you didn’t know existed. It amazes you how much stamina he has and it doesn’t appear like he’s letting up any time soon.

“Sunwoo, just like that— f-fuck yes— right there,”

“Look at you, Y/N, so fucking messy and all because of me.”

He hooks one of your knees on his shoulder, plunging even further into your pussy. The mewl you release is voluminous, enough to wake up anyone in the rooms surrounding his. One of his hands holds your leg in place while the other travels south, gripping your side and using his thumb to vigorously circle your clit.

The added stimulation is just what you need to nudge you closer to your tipping point, what you were deprived of earlier. He, of course, notices that and stops his attack with his finger. You whine in protest, not wanting to deal with his teasing again right now.

You open your mouth to express your distaste at the same moment he rolls his hips experimentally. So instead of complaining about his edging, you let out a choked groan.

“Sunwoo, please, let me cum. Please, I'm begging. I need to.” You hate that you’re in this position, but you can’t hold out much longer. Fatigue is catching up to you and if you don’t cum soon, you might pass out.

“You wanna cum, baby? You want me to let you cum?” He all but growls in your ear. You moan wantonly in response, quickly becoming a babbling mess. “I think you can wait a bit longer. Take it like a big girl, yeah?”

Your other leg wraps around his waist, allowing his already buried cock to kiss at your cervix. The new angle is unhinged, short circuiting your brain. Discarding any thought behind your actions, moving on autopilot, you pull him down to press your mouths together.

The combination of passion and pure lust drives both of you wild, fueling your desires. His lips part from yours and he moans breathily as you clench down on him, the exhale fanning over the lower part of your face. The sound is unlike anything you’ve heard before and you’d do just about anything to hear it again. The brunette was completely unaware of the effects he had on you, something as simple as a noise kicking you into high gear.

But it seems even he’s reaching his limits, not able to hold himself back anymore. In an attempt to finish you both off quickly, he brutalizes each piston of his pelvis. Your nails sink into his shoulders.

“F-fuck— S-Sunwoo I’m gonna— I’m gonna cum— so fucking—“

His thumb finds its way back to your clit and resumes its previous attack, the other circling around a peaked nipple, cutting you off. You arch into him, trying to bring the two of you impossibly closer. His cock rams in and out of you almost inhumanely at the rate he was going. With one particularly harsh thrust, he commands,

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

The words send you overboard and you release around him, simultaneously gripping him like a vice and moaning so pornographically, you kind of feel bad for everyone else staying on this floor. Your whole body spasms with your orgasm, hushed moans falling from your swollen lips. Seconds later the twitch of his dick alerts you as he follows, filling you up with the warmth of his own cum. Had he not still been inside you, you were certain it’d flow right out, something akin to Niagara Falls. But you’re both too busy trying to catch your breaths to really pay attention to any of that extra stuff.

The ache was settling in your bones instantaneously, and you half-regretted encouraging him to ‘fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk properly’.

After what feels like an eternity, he slowly pulls out his softening cock, your pussy clenching at nothing and feeling empty as he presses a soft peck on the tip of your nose, his dominant personality dissipating along with it.

The moment feels strangely domestic, his coos of praise and the worry that he was too rough with you not flying over your head. Things like ‘you did so well, sweetheart’, ‘I’m so proud of you, baby’, and ‘your pussy was made for my cock’ floated around the air. He caressed your belly with one hand and your hair with the other before pulling himself away from you fully.

“Let me go get you a towel,” he smiles warmly, disappearing into the bathroom he told your brother you were borrowing. When he comes back, he has a fresh pair of briefs on and a damp washcloth on his forearm. “You know, I‘ve had the biggest crush on you since high school. The moment Eric introduced us, I practically fell in love.”

He carefully cleans up your cum covered thighs, weary of how sensitive you are. It dawns on him that you’re fighting back your sleep, but he also realizes that you can’t stay in his room, running the risk of being compromised and Eric finding out. He helps you into a sitting position and leads you to the bath.

He washes your hair and body for you, increasing the overwhelming amount of domesticity that you already started to feel. Even with his admission, you didn’t want to assume that this was something he really wanted. You’d made that mistake before, with your asshole of an ex fiancé, and you couldn’t stomach the thought of that happening with him. He was a young, hot professional baseball player. Why would he want to be tied down to you?

With a towel wrapped tightly around your body and your clothes draped over a shoulder, he aids you in your sneaky trip to your own hotel room. You fumble a bit with the key card, nervous under his gaze for some reason. When you finally get it open, you hurriedly enter, desperate to get away from him to avoid small talk. You were a grown ass woman and here you were, acting like a petulant child.

He reaches for your wrist and stops you prior to getting too far past the door frame. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter? Why won't you look at me? Did— did I do something wrong?”

“N-no! You didn’t. I just— I don't wanna misinterpret the situation...” You betray yourself and look him in the eyes, nearly melting at the soft chocolate color staring right back. He leans forward to kiss you on the lips. It isn’t rushed or forceful like any of the others from earlier in the night. It’s more like the loving one he placed on your nose. It conveys exactly what he wants to say, but can’t put into words, and rids of your doubts all at once. You instinctively shut your eyes, a smile working its way across your face.

“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart. Goodnight,” is what he leaves you with, scampering off to his room.

You bring your fingers up to your lips, the stupid grin not disappearing. He wasn’t kidding when he said the name Kim Sunwoo would be engraved in your brain tonight.

The next day, the four of you visit one of the beaches. You chuckle to yourself as you observe Eric and Haknyeon attempting to skimboard, but failing miserably. Your brother flies forward when his board skids to a stop and he stumbles a bit before regaining his bearings. The older laughs at him, hunching over and clutching his stomach as he does so.

Your eyes stay on them for a bit, but your head turns at the sound of footsteps approaching you and the beach towel you were sitting on. You finally glance over when a grunt fills your ears over the crashing waves. Sunwoo leans back onto his palms, sunglasses perched on top of his head. The goods you wanted were set between you, a bag nearly full to the brim with mandarin oranges.

On your way to the beach, you passed a vendor on the street selling different fruits. Among said fruits were the mandarins that caught your attention. You pouted when you realized you left your purse at the hotel, only having your I.D. on you. Being absolutely smitten with you and having no self control, Sunwoo made a promise to himself to come back when you were least expecting to buy you as many as he physically could. (Gift giving was one of his love languages.)

He smiles as your eyes light up like a Christmas tree in August, instinctively reaching for one of the oranges. You bring it up to your nose to smell the faint citrusy scent of the rind, humming contentedly afterwards. With the summer breeze blowing through your hair, the humidity painting your cheeks rosy and the sun behind you giving you a halo-like glow, you look like a scene ripped straight from a movie. Sunwoo feels like the most fortunate guy in the world knowing that he’s the only person who gets to see you like this, committing the visual to memory so he can look back on it whenever he pleases.

He decides that he could die right here right now, and he’d be satisfied with his life. He can already see it, his headstone; Rest in Peace Kim Sunwoo, 2000-2023.

You slowly start to peel the mandarin, each corner of your lips curled upwards. You pop a piece into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste of its nectar. Without pausing to think about it, you scoot closer to Sunwoo, feeding him some of the orange. A small giggle escapes the back of your throat when he smiles again, this time at how much more comfortable you are with him. (And also how yummy the mandarin is.)

“It almost tastes as sweet as you.”

He meant for it to be an innocent insinuation, but completely forgot about the fact that it could be misconceived as an innuendo. You slap his shoulder with a gasp because that’s exactly how you took it, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Woah, I was trying to be cute. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”

You roll your eyes, shoving a few more pieces of mandarin into his mouth to shut him up. “Kim Sunwoo, you’re lucky I like you.”

His cheeks are puffed up with the fruit and he tries to smile at you, his pouty lips making him look a little silly. You press a quick kiss to them, forgetting that you were very much in public. He turns to you with eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“What if Eric sees?” He swallows thickly.

You shake your head. “Let him. I’m happy. That’s all he really cares about.”

It befuddles you that just a week ago, you never would’ve thought this could happen. A week ago, Sunwoo was still that high school boy who stuttered whenever he spoke to you and came over to yours and Eric’s apartment every day after school. A week ago, you were still apprehensive about putting yourself out there, out of fear that you’d just get hurt again. But somehow, Sunwoo managed to change your entire perspective. And sitting here on this beach towel, feeding him mandarins and giggling at his jokes solidifies that for you.

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #the boyz sunwoo #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #tbz sunwoo #kim sunwoo #kim sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo smut #sunwoo #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo smut #juyeonszn

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squarebracket-trickster · 5 months

Text

Since we're talking about second drafts -

"When you get to your second draft do yourself a favour and rewrite it completely. Trust me. You'll hate me now but you'll be thanking me later. Rewrite it. Don't even look at your first draft. If it's important it will stick."

I really tried to follow this advice. It didn't work for me.

By the time I started my second draft (a year after finishing draft 1) I had forgotten so much about the story that if I didn't look at my first draft wouldn't be starting with a draft, I'd be back in the planning/outlining stage.

Staring at a blank document trying to come up with the right words all over again was unnecessary stress and a waste of time. I was happy enough with my first draft. Why fix what ain't broke?

My getting-words-on-the-page process is messy. I word vomit, I ramble, I overwrite. I don't add description unless it's important to the plot. I don't edit unless my writing would be completely incomprehensible to future me otherwise. I type as fast as I can. If I started over I'd have a second draft of the exact same shit quality as my first. Maybe the pacing would be a little better. Maybe there would be less inconsistency. But there's no guarantee of that. How much would I really have to show for all that effort?

Going into my second draft with specific goals for revision is what worked in the end. I wanted to: trim my word count by 32 000 words, fix the plot holes, fix macro pacing issues like scenes where nothing interesting happens, change the ending, and make sure things are properly foreshadowed.

That I could do. It broke it down, made it far less overwhelming than "rewrite everything" and it saved me time. I'm on my third draft now, more than two years after I started my first. My writing has grown a lot in that time but I still stand by my decision not to rewrite. The story didn't need it. I don't see any decisions I could have made different on a rewrite that would have made my story so much better than what I have now.

So find what works for you. If rewriting works all the power to you! But don't feel like you are limiting yourself by not doing it. Rewriting won't magically improve your writing. Any revision needs to be done with intention.

This is your permission to not rewrite. Especially if it's making you avoid touching your draft all together.

#writing advice #novel writing #writeblr #i swore i was going to stay away from writing advice tumblr this time around #wipvii

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appleblueberry-pie · 3 months

Note

MORE YANDRE MILES PLSS I LOVE THEM

im just gonna put whatever comes to mind. trying to be as unhinged as you guys let me be. tell me if you want worse/weirder. fem reader.

Miles stopped caring about how fucked up he became when it comes to you. It doesn't matter when you're his only form of bliss he can find anymore. he kills every night. he can't sleep. he drains his mind and body every day. he has school grades to worry about and how he's gonna get the next 5 thousand from that one gang he made an agreement with two weeks ago. and, yet with the drugs he sees being slipped into people's hands on the way to school, and the syringes he feels cracking under his clean J's, the only thing that's pure enough to cleanse his mind, body, and soul is you. everyone wears the same shit to school every day, but you make it fit your personality and looks perfectly.

cut to the chase, he can't help but imagine being skin to skin with you every night. he wants you to rake your fingers into his scalp. fuck the fresh braids, he needs your nails on his skin. scratch his back, scalp, arms, anything. he wants marks of you on him any way possible. too young for certain activities, but when it comes to you, he'll fucking murder anyone. drug anyone, kill anyone for you. he hates when you pass him and he catches a whiff of your perfume, or even better, your natural musk. because he'll just stay in his head for the next few days. you're his high. he needs you.

he wants you to talk into his ears all damn day and never stop. he wants to hear you whisper, talk, laugh, cry, yell. everything. he never sees you crack a single smile in the science class you guys take together. But when he sees you howling your fucking ass off with your close friends, pushing, grabbing your friends, giggling, squealing with them, it just sets his whole body on fire. he's so fucking jealous of them, he just breaks anything in his vicinity at the thought of not having what you're giving them. he then began to wonder how he could have you for himself. he just wants you to give him all of you, and he'd obviously give you himself. why can't he have that?

when you pair up with him for a project in that science class you both share, he never thanked god so so so much in 15 seconds like he did when you began walking over to where he sat.

it gave him an excuse to stare at you and drink in every square inch of your body like he'd see an angel once and never see it again until he died. he greedily drinks in your scent while you speak. being able to see, hear, smell, and feel you if he tries hard enough, is almost overstimulating for him. he's great at hiding his emotions, but on the inside he wonders if this is what it feels like to take heroine. when you ask him a question about possible presentation ideas, he almost asks you to sit on his lap so he can hear you better.

Miles has been having maladaptive daydreams about you for the past year or so. so it was very difficult in that moment for him to separate his dreams from reality when he finally got a chance to communicate with you. before you left the class to get to your next period, you had already typed your number in his phone. he had already formed in his mind a way to locate your exact living apartment number. that way he can sneak in when you aren't there. miles needs you in his arms as soon as possible.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #reader #yandere character #across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #42 miles x reader #yandere miles morales #yandere atsv #yandere earth 42 miles morales

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ronearoundblindly · 27 days

Note

Ari- Baby is sick for the first time

Ari Levinson x best friend!reader (now fiancé)

New Parent Panic, a Bedrock and Blueprints tale

Warnings for protective!Ari, Ari not communicating, you doing the same, and then everyone gets their shit together and it's fluff. WC 2k *Off in the distance an ol' timey man pops up: "An argument, you say? You wrote an argument?? How different from your usual!!" Ha-ha. Yeah. We get it. Ro's the same hoe as last year... **I am not a mother. I know what would reasonably be categorized as zilch about babies. I have, however, seen this overwhelmed and guilty behavior from several of my peeps as they raise their youngins, so that's good enough for me. You're doing fine. I promise.

Sure, there was the rather severe diaper rash incident, and the time when nursing her turned your nipples into raw portals for a newly-discovered circle of hell, but nothing could have prepared you for this day.

Rachel was...meh this morning when Ari left for work. A little whiny, not sleeping well, but she's an infant; that's not new. Overall, she's actually been a very straight-forward baby.

And then you don't know what happened.

You napped very hard until noon (after only a moderately successful feeding) and by then Rach had a fever.

You called the nurses' hotline. You gave her the dose of baby meds. You're trying to keep her hydrated, at least, if she can't be happy right now. You just have to stay vigilant and wait it out.

But that's not easy.

She's crying and won't sleep, she'll barely eat, and you don't have a separate car. You only want to call Ari if it's to say "we need to take her to a doctor." You're not there yet.

So you do the shittiest feeling thing you can think of, the most painful thing, and you wait.

You don't sleep. You barely eat. You take Rachel's temperature like you are monitoring the possible meltdown of a nuclear reactor. One wiggle of a degree in the wrong direction, and that Bat Signal is going on.

I can do this, you tell yourself. I've wanted to be a mom for a long time, so I can do this.

Except you don't sleep and barely eat.

Ari arrives home precisely when he said he would, the exact number of minutes (after work shuts down for the day) that it takes to drive to the house, predictable, dependable, and utterly useless when he opens the door and asks "why is she crying?"

"Because she hates me," you blubber, holding her to your chest, arms cramped from cradling her for so many hours at this point.

"She need meds?"

Of course, I gave her the fucking meds.

"Hungry?"

No, asshole, I purposefully starved your fucking child for my own amusement.

"Calm down," Ari snips back. "I'm just trying to help."

Well then fucking help me!

By now, you likely look as if you're in a war zone: disheveled, manic, and possibly--definitely--hostile.

"Okay, okay, let me just take a piss and then I'll hold her."

"Yeah, of course. Whatever you want. Whatever you need." You turn your back to him before grumbling, "not like I haven't had to hold it all afternoon..."

Ari's still-booted feet land heavily beside you again. "Then I'll take her now," he grits through clenched teeth, "and you can use the bathroom."

"No. I already have her."

"Fine. I'll be right back."

"Take your time."

The way you lace the words with a sickly sweet melody has Ari spinning on a heel and staring at you through his long eyelashes, a tick in his jaw stopping him from saying something he might regret.

"Kid," he finally sighs, "just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

He runs a hand over his beard while he waits for your answer. A few seconds later, his hip juts out, arms akimbo, and he bites his bottom lip expectantly.

You just walk off toward your phone on the kitchen counter and call the nurse hotline back.

"I swear, woman," he mutters as you leave, but you're glad he can't hear you sniffle back a sob.

It should be reassuring that the nurse has no new advice for what to do. You're doing everything correctly. You're doing all you can. Don't worry. Keep checking her temp and giving her whatever fluids she'll take. That's all for now.

It doesn't feel like enough. It doesn't feel like all a mother can do.

Ari? Ari waltzes up to the fridge and cracks himself open a beer.

You don't even have words, only flaming hot vibes that will melt his face like a Spielberg movie--you have got to stop watching movie marathons during late-night breast-feeding--if you stare hard enough at his casual blue gaze.

"So," he begins, "you figure out what I gotta do?"

What had been steady whimpering from Rachel has amplified into wails that bring tears to both hers and your eyes.

They just fall down your cheeks, and you wipe them from your chin before they can fall onto your screaming child.

Ari's judging frown makes your stomach turn while he steps closer, bends at the knees, and takes his little girl in hand.

Less than a minute later, Rachel stops, and you just cannot fucking handle it. The only quiet moment you've had in six and a half hours he gets to enjoy moments after coming home.

That's not fair. Cure fucking cancer already, Levinson, and save us the goddamn grief!

The tears and the tired are choking you.

Ari tells you to go freshen up in the bathroom, but that is the most horribly wrong way to say anything to you, ever, in a moment like this.

You stomp out the front door, rip open the sliding back door of the SUV, and crawl onto the cab floor. Once the latch clicks behind you, face buried in the blanket kept on Rachel's car seat, you scream.

You whimper and you cry and you get your fucking time to be angry at all your feelings today because it's bullshit.

You didn't take your own temperature. You didn't get rest and drink plenty of fluids. You didn't take any medicine. All you keep going over in your mind is whether or not you were sick first. Did you have something you gave to your daughter? Is this your fault?

So the tears and the choking continue for...as long as they take.

You don't know how much time has passed before the car door is yanked open again. Thank the stars you are facing away. You can't look at Ari right now.

"Is she okay?" you ask with a watery voice.

His big, warm hand rubs across your back, making you sink further into the upholstery.

"Took a few ounces of a bottle and went down in her bunk."

Ari likes to call Rachel a part of his 'squad,' so he talks to your infant daughter like they're going on 'missions' to the store or getting a bottle from the 'mess.' Your bedroom has thus become the 'barracks.'

Sometimes, he holds her sitting up against his chest and uses her feet to 'march' the pair of them across the house.

Left. Left. Left right left.

And almost always, there's a giggle, too.

"Up you go, kid," Ari huffs, maneuvering you into his arms.

"No," you whine, so tired you can't tell what it is you don't want.

He just keeps saying, "I know. I know," until he's carried you inside.

Instead of taking you to the couch or the bed, Ari sits you both down in the front hall, balancing you on his lap while he loosens his boot laces and finally kicks the sturdy shoes off, placing them on the mat a couple feet away.

He presses his lips to your temple, rough beard gently scrubbing over your eyelid and cheek.

"How many times I gotta tell ya to call me?" he whispers. He doesn't expect to have this same argument again, not like this, but his point still stands. "You know, you're warm, too."

If it's another question, you don't answer that either. You change the subject.

"Did you take her temp?"

He nods, and the number he tells you is the same as it was thirty minutes ago, or rather, thirty minutes before he came home.

Ari squeezes you tighter. "You want to get into bed, and I'll bring your some juice and meds, huh? Meet you in there?"

"I'm a bad mom," you breathe.

"What?" He pulls away, smacking his head on the wall behind him. "What are you talking about?"

How are there more tears left in your body? You should be nothing but a shriveled husk at this rate.

"Bullshit," he practically seethes. "Don't you ever say that again."

"I shouldn't have--"

"Stop."

"--you were--"

"Stop it," he blurts, firm and serious.

"But I'm the one who wanted this, Ari!" Your most powerful voice only comes out as high whisper. "Me. I wanted kids. This whole time. I bitched about how Joanna's done, and I thought I could just--" you swing an arm out dramatically "--and I suck at it. Rach even likes you better!"

"No, kid. She was exhausted. I only got here at the right time."

"It's 'cause your comfy and you smell good--"

"--not sure about that--"

"--and she loves you," you bemoan.

Ari snorts out a laugh.

"She loves you, too. You're her mom." He tucks you in closer, soothing you with petting hands wherever he can reach. "I love you. So much. So, so much."

He finds your hand and the sapphire ring he put on it, spinning it gently on your finger. He hasn't gotten to make good on his promise. Planning a wedding, even a small one, with a newborn is almost impossible, but that seems to be part of the problem.

Anything to do with you or you two feels selfish when there's three. Guilt grips you when you stop to daydream about your big day because it's not about Rachel. She's the most important thing. She will trump you forever as the single most--

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ari's timbre rattles close to your ear. "You're my favorite."

You slump into his chest until your forehead braces his throat.

"Almost not fair, really," he drawls. "You've got a decade of brownie points, and she's managed to make me buy more pads for her than I've had to for y--"

You pinch at his side harshly, biting back a smile, the salt from dried tears on your lips flooding your mouth.

"Oh! And you can control your bladder for a whole day, which is downright impressive wh--hey now--" Ari scuttles on the floor to evade your attack on his ribs. "I'm just...being...honest," he chuckles.

"You're a jerk is what you are, old man."

He easily grabs both your arms and pins them together in front of him.

"Yeah, but I'm your jerk. Your old man, kid. I'm yours, okay? You are not alone here. You don't have to know how to do everything by yourself." He lowers his voice as well as his face to yours. "And you mean just as much to me as that little girl in there. You hear me?"

There's a different lump of emotion lodged deep in your chest. You only nod because you can't speak.

He makes your foreheads meet.

"Please be okay. I could never do this without you. Any of it..."

That's when you realize what bothers you so much: Ari should need you to raise Rachel, but you never truly acknowledged you might need him to raise her, too.

This enormous weight of clutching every thread of life in your own two hands isn't real. You can share. You are meant to share your life with Ari. Ari is meant to share his life with you. Rachel shares life with you both, as she is meant to share with everyone around her. It's a lesson she has the opportunity to learn a lot younger than you, apparently.

He gets you to drink a whole bottle of water. He brings you some food and medicine while he handles some laundry and cleans out the day's bottles. He leads you with both hands to the bathroom, finally, and then gets you settled in bed.

As you fall asleep, you watch Ari take Rach's temperature again.

He lets out a silent cheer and holds his hand over her.

"High five?" he whispers. "No? It's fine. We'll work on that."

The last thing you see is Ari playfully lifting her from the basinet, sneaking out to the living room to enjoy a movie marathon, just for a little bit, snuggling together while he winds down for the night.

All that matters is she's safe and happy.

That, and of course, waking up in Ari's arms, listening to his slow breathing and Rachel's faster, baby huffs. You can handle anything because you made it through today and you have them.

[Ari's POV for this day]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @yenzys-lucky-charm

#bedrock and blueprints #ro answers #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson angst #ari levinson fluff

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rouiyan · 9 months

Text

𝘞𝘌’𝘙𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘮𝘬 ]

⧏ back to teaser || redirect to playlist ⧐

marks manages to land himself in a forty-two hour drive across the country with his archaeology major ex-girlfriend in the passenger seat. but for the duration of the whole ride, the only thing he can think about is that one twitter meme that states that “a majority of archeologists are women due to their natural ability to dig up the past.”

✧ photographer!mark lee x (fem.) archaeology major!reader ✧ exes to lovers, road trip au, referenced college au ✧ genres — fluff/angst, hurt/comfort ✧ word count — 25.2k

✧ disclaimers — profanity, mentions of food, legal (u.s.) alcohol consumption, they make out like once, emotional insecurity and vulnerability (i.e. several panic attacks, social anxiety), possible terminal illness (not of mcs), generational conflict, y/n cries a lot, mark sucks at parking

✧ caveat — this fictional plot is set in present-day america and does not accurately reflect the locations referenced. furthermore, this publication is not an endorsement of the brand or the product featured. all credit is given where it is due. (sources linked upon conclusion)

✧ author’s note — happy 24th birthday to my dear mark! note that the first scene is the exact same as the teaser, so if you've read that already, feel free to skip over! also note i half-assed the proofread so please let me know of any typos, plotholes, and other stupid stuff that i forgot to adjust. as for myself, you can catch a little update on the past two years of my life at the end of this fic so for now, enjoy!

「 DAY 00, 01:42 PM 」 — CUPID DABBLES IN BURNT TOAST

"oh, come on. i thought you were nicer than that!"

it's at times like these where mark is led to think that haechan only considers him as his very best friend for three things. his toaster, his car, and then of course, how easy it is to torment him.

he’s experienced enough to know that the guilt he feels is really only a direct result of haechan's guilt-tripping antics. and so he responds sarcastically, "yeah, nice enough to save a girl from a week of being in close proximity to the person she hates most in the world."

the toaster dings and haechan catches the two pieces of toast in their flight. he sticks one in his mouth, breaking off a bite, whilst turning to toss the other onto his friend's plate. chewing roughly, he leans back onto the counter opposite of mark, watching in contempt as the latter spreads jam across the burnt slice of bread.

haechan points a finger and juts it in his direction, offhandedly commenting, "i'm starting to think that it's you who hates her," a fact that both friends know isn't true. and because of that, mark doesn't make a big deal of denying it. "i don't hate her. i'm just..." he trails off and haechan takes the opportunity to craftily stage his intervention.

"not trying to make her uncomfortable?"

"yeah, i guess."

"not wanting her to hate you more?"

"there's that too."

"not over her?"

"hey, not cool."

a passage of silence elapses as mark sets the butter knife aside in exchange for his orange juice. gulping it down, he gets through two thirds of the glass before haechan perks up again. "actually, i think she still has a thing for you."

mark sputters, barely swallowing his drink before it could hurl out his disbelieving mouth. trying to smooth over his show of defiance, mark recovers a nonchalant expression as he deadpans, "there's no way. you know better than i do that she fucking hates me."

haechan takes another bite, aware but indifferent at how the crumbs have been gathering at his feet. his eyes trail absentmindedly to the clock on the wall behind mark, but only briefly for the hands are far past where he'd expected them to be. shoving the last of the toast into his mouth, he rushes to gather his belongings whilst uttering to his bewildered company, "shit, i'm gonna be late. pack it up."

obediently downing the rest of his orange juice, mark grabs his half-eaten, jam-slathered, burnt-to-a-crisp toast in one hand as the other reaches for his car keys on the way out. the unbearably hot sun of an early summer afternoon only hurries mark further along to his car, his wishes that he had worn shorts instead of jeans already too late to come true. but once both car doors have been shut and seat belts have been strapped, haechan carries on with his agenda without missing a beat.

"just give her the ride, mark. she'll keep you company and, i don't know, make sure you're not falling asleep at the wheel. and plus, she said she'll split the toll and gas fees."

mark shoves the last bite of toast into his mouth, the charred-ness of it procuring a nice crunch. even after he swallows, it takes him a second to respond. and though his answer is still far from budging, it sounds more like a justification, as if he needs convincing of his own opinion. "tell her it's cheaper to just catch a flight. and faster too."

exasperated, haechan retorts under his breath, "that's the same thing i told you," to which mark gives a raised brow, not catching what he said. instead of repeating, haechan only says, "just take her. you guys need to make up anyways."

that renders mark quiet for the rest of the ride as he tosses the thought over in his head. it's a thought that he knows he's been pushing away for far too long, hoping one day it'll become redundant enough to simply forget about. unknowingly, mark begins to speed a little, his turns become a little tighter, and when the traffic light signals red, the nose of his car is pulled daringly close to the car in front.

mark parallel parks shoddily in front of the archeology department building four minutes earlier than google maps had estimated. his best friend looks over at him expectantly and that in itself is enough to squeeze the reluctant words right out of him. "fine, i'll think about it."

haechan's face lights with a satisfied glow as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, making his way out of the car as quickly as he can. and just before mark can think to wish him good luck on his last exam of the spring semester, haechan blurts out the one crucial detail he had neglected to bring up until now.

"thank god, because i already told her you said yes."

「 DAY 01, 07:48 AM 」 — ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD

the trunk of his beloved subaru crosstrek slams shut from behind. mark winces. the car door of the passenger seat slams shut shortly after. mark winces once again, but doesn't venture to comment on it. instead, he comments on something else entirely. "so why am i picking you up from the hospital?"

you roll your eyes, traces of hostility already to be found in your expression. "as if that's any of your business." you position the tote bag you brought up front by your feet and the contents inside clank against one another. mark gives you a questioning look, thus questioning, "what’s in there? rocks?"

instead of answering with what he would assume to be the same thing you said prior, you simply huff and lean back into the seat to fasten your seat belt. mark does the same, then hastens to shift the gears from park to drive. "you ready?"

lips set into a firm line, you're staring straight ahead when you say, "ready to get this over with." mark takes that as his cue to start the forty-two hour drive across the country, past barren lands and hilly roads, trading the smog of new york for the smog of los angeles.

the drive begins with a screeching hour of silence, all of which you’ve spent scrolling on your phone. and when you finally look up from your screen, the city view outside has already mellowed into sprawling countryside. mark takes this new development as a window of opportunity to spark up conversation, although you beat him to it nonetheless. “how many stops are we taking?”

he clears his throat for fear of a cracking voice and gathers his scattered thoughts to form a response. “about two or three times a day.”

“and how many days are we gonna be on the road?”

“three to four. i’m thinking we should take a few overnight stops as well. and also,” there’s a break in his sentence where he stops to scrunch his nose, “i might want to stop at random points to shoot some pictures. is that fine with you?”

you take your eyes off the road momentarily to get a good look at mark. he has a hand on the wheel and the other propped up by the window adjacent, eyes held forward all the while. looking back ahead yourself, you give in with a slight hitch of indignation in your otherwise colorless voice. “sure, why not.”

mark refers back to a time where the silent air between the two of you would sit comfortably and thinks of how he might have brought about conversation back then. he tries, as he might, to do the same with this scenario, catching the moment before the prolonged silence warrants it too late. “so what’s your business in LA?”

surprisingly, he spots less bite in your tone the more you speak. “my sister asked me to be maid of honor at her wedding next week.” mark’s automatic response comes out first as a laconic, “oh nice” but he follows up quickly after with an inquiring, “is it...is it still jaehyun? or is that a thing of the past?”

“it’s still him. they’ve been engaged for a while, remember?”

mark nods in agreement. he even remembers that exact phone call you received from your sister on the day your freshman year finals ended. sat across the couch, he can even recall the way you tried to motion the whole conversation with your hands to him while on the phone with her, your excitement on full display when you later hugged him tight since he was the only other person in the room.

he bites down on his bottom lip at the thought of the memory that’s still fresh in his mind. time seemed to pass more quickly for him now that it wasn’t divided into semesters and school years. taking a glance over at you, mark can’t help but think that while college life turned out to be unsuitable for him, it had done wonders for you in just the past year.

with little to no trace of the temper you initially harbored, your voice is about as neutral as it gets when you take your turn in questioning him. “what about you? what are you doing in LA?”

his answer is simple, really. his plan originally focused more on capturing the sights along the way to LA rather than the city itself. but seeing as how you’d expressed wanting to make the trip as curt and necessary as possible, he acquiesced for the lesser truth. “i’m just planning on taking some pictures and meeting some friends there. it’s a change of scenery too, i guess.”

the prospect of conversation eased in difficulty the more it steered in the direction of friendly small talk and catching up with one another. his career and his career-related decisions were always somewhat of a prickly topic, after all. his parents scorned him for it, calling it “easy money” that would just as easily come and go. his friends always said he just got lucky in the industry. and his old professors had shook their heads when he told them about his plans to drop out.

to mark, you were the only one who had ever cared to really understand his relationship with the passion that was now his life’s work. and because of that, his answer comes most naturally when you ask him, “what’s still keeping you in new york, though? i mean, you’re not there for school anymore and you’re not exactly a street photographer either.”

and without a thought to spare, mark blurts out, “you.”

what a perfect way to kill a perfectly fine conversation, he thinks in the midst of the grand silence that follows. red creeps its way up from his next to his ears until he’s flushed clean with embarrassment and terrible terrible regret, the only consolation being that your eyes seemed to be glued up ahead and not at him.

although it seems you’ve since dropped the conversation — seeing as how you’ve checked your phone five times in the last five minutes — you still make it your job to clear the air for any future attempts at conversing. after all, you’re going to be stuck with him for the entirety of the next three days. and that’s at the very least.

“mark, i don’t even want to know what you meant by that, but can we just keep our distance as…” you pause when you realize there really isn’t an appropriate label to describe your relationship with him. what do you call someone that you know really well, but aren’t on talking terms with, and have a long history of romantic instances with?

at the three-second mark in your hesitation, he lends a hopeful suggestion, “as friends?” and it’s another three unsure seconds spent on your end — unease on his — until you finally give in with a sigh and a small, albeit resolute nod. “as friends.”

he’s going at almost a hundred miles per hour on the empty road when you noticeably look over at him in time to catch the quirk of his lips, before he reassesses with a nod of his own in confirmation. with the first of (what you’re sure will be) many awkward exchanges passed, you reach a hand into the backseat to draw forth a thin blanket. “alright, i’m going to continue sleeping then.”

“mhmm,” he hums, watching in the corner of his eye as you lower the seat back. the position you assume, curling into the blanket, is as familiar as it gets and mark is reminded of countless road trip memories that he has never bothered to unearth. he sighs. “go ahead, we got all the time in the world.”

and after making sure you’ve fallen fast asleep with your slowed breathing and occasional snores, mark slows the car to a cruising 70 miles per hour.

「 DAY 01, 10:33 AM 」 — MORE THAN I THOUGHT

“keep right to stay on the i-81 south.” you slit an eye open, wide enough to see that the road ahead is blanketed in a gleaming white. the sun must’ve parted from the clouds. you close your eye in an attempt to fall back asleep. but just before you do, the automated voice from mark’s phone perks up again. “keep right to stay on the i-81 south.”

annoyed and disgruntled, you shrug the blanket off of you and, this time, crack both eyes open. sitting up in your reclined seat, you rub at your eyes and realize two things. one, the car is no longer moving. and two, you’re in the car alone. suddenly alert, you jab your finger into the ‘cancel’ button on his phone just as it continues its mantra of “keep right to sta—” and grab your own phone as you make your way out of the car.

the car itself is parked haphazardly in front of what is labelled to be a colon and rectal surgery building, with half the whole vehicle outside of the designated lines. but just as you begin to question mark’s motives, you turn to see a vast expanse of water on the opposite side. there’s small islands and clumps of trees jutting out and just across you can see a rise of buildings in the distance.

approaching the road that separates you and the riverbank, you bring a hand to shield your eyes from the light of the sun which you have yet to adjust to. and sure enough, through the blinding haze you make out a figure on the other side of the road, unruly black hair scuffed by the wind with a giant camera held at his hip. his other hand is held in the same shielding stance as you, and even his posture alone is enough to tell you that it’s mark.

both hands now cupping your mouth, you yell out a resounding, “mark!” just as a truck whizzes by but when the body of it passes, the man is revealed to be looking back at you with a silly smile plastered across his face. he holds the heavy film camera with both hands now, as he rushes up the slight grassy incline and jaywalks casually across the street.

you’re about to scold him for not even looking out for any incoming cars but up close, he only grins harder. mark is less than five feet away when he thinks to enlighten you, his beaming smile quickly growing sheepish, “google maps told me to keep right but i stayed on the right for so long, i ended up exiting the highway altogether.” his free arm gestures outwards in exclamation while he beams, “but look where we ended up!”

the sincerity of his bright eyes and bright smile puts a dampener on the tension, so much so that you even venture to joke, “the upmc pinnacle colon and rectal surgery center?” whilst pointing back to the sign. “you’ve no idea how confused i was when i woke up.”

“sorry about that. we’re in harrisburg now. so i’m guessing this is the susquehanna river.”

you shoot him a surprised look, “nice. almost halfway through pennsylvania.”

he ducks his head, a small smile adorning his nod in agreement, “yeah almost.” mark likes this new development of mood you seem to be in. chipper? not exactly. but much more pleasant than before? absolutely. he knows from personal experience that it’s the sleep. good sleep and good food do that to you. and thus he suggests, “should we get a quick brunch before getting back on the road?”

your eyes ignite a glow — rival to his — at the sound of brunch, though you have enough patience to consider, “did you get all the pictures you wanted already?”

mark nods once again, even though he isn’t even through a fourth of his first roll of film. he figures he’ll have plenty more opportunities to use it up down the line. plus, he likes the little smile on your face way too much to be the one to deny you what you want. and so he rushes to get his equipment back in their travel straps and he clambers back into the driver’s seat, all to careen his way about four blocks down to the mcdonald’s (but only after you’d shaken your head whilst he was pulling up at the wendy’s).

he orders drive through and you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns to ask, “same as usual?” and though you’re sure your usual order has changed at least once or twice in just the last year, you nod anyways. mark pays at the till and you’re handed a sausage burrito with large fries. as you’d supposed, it’s not your most up-to-date order but at this point, almost anything will get your mouth watering.

at your first bite, you sneak a glance over at mark. his head is bowed over the egg mcmuffin in his lap, hands clasped lightly together as he says grace. looking away, you give an unprompted chuckle under your breath in remembrance of his faith, new memories ringing up old habits in the back of your mind.

the next time you place a glance towards him, there’s crumbs littering the lap of his jeans and sauce smothered around the curves of his mouth. and when he looks over at you, an eyebrow raised in question at the sudden onset of attention you’re giving, you pay little mind to the fact that you have to stifle yet another chuckle in exchange for simply tossing a napkin his way.

sitting here in the passenger seat of his car, you can’t help but think that there must be something inherently wrong about spending time with an ex. especially when the two of you parted on terms that seemed somewhat insignificant, though only at the surface of things.

for the most part, mark was a good boyfriend. and the mark that sat to your left doesn’t seem any different than the mark you knew back then. maybe he got around to shaving his stubble a little closer and cleaning up his car a bit more often, but he wears the same carhartt jeans, eats as clumsily as he always had, and still drives his car as if he had extra lives to spare.

from his nose scrunches to his dutiful faith, the mark you’re sat next to now is undeniably the same mark you fell in love with what seems like ages ago.

and as he backs out of the parking space, almost reversing straight into the car opposite, you catch the uttered “shit” that falls so casually from his lips. the same lips that you could never get enough of against yours. the song that’s blaring from the speakers is a favorite of his, you know that best, and it has him humming lightly with the same voice that once serenaded you to sleep. his fingers drum incessantly on the steering wheel as he waits for a red light to turn green, the same fingers that once struggled, but succeeded against all odds, in learning how to braid your hair.

you swallow thickly and think of how unfair this has come to be. it feels impossible to have to sit with the fact that you revoked his license as your boyfriend, but now have to regard him as just a friend. it’s the same as holding someone you once held close at arm’s distance. and it’s like trying to purposefully forget the name of your favorite show, or your beloved dog, or even your own name.

all of a sudden, you feel like you’ve been caught in a fervid windstorm so strong that it threatens to uproot whatever reasonings had kept you grounded, amplifying whatever feelings lingered in his wake. except, the only thing you have left to hold onto is the realization that although the mark in the driver’s seat is the same mark you fell in love with way back when, he’s also the same mark that broke your heart without even a single word said.

「 DAY 02, 01:17 AM 」 — MARK LEE SMOKING?? (100% CLICKBAIT)

a bout of carsickness hits you at seven in the evening, right after sitting in at a roadside diner that served mashed potatoes that were suspiciously tinted green. but even after he pulled over so you could throw up on the side of the road, you’d implored mark to keep on driving until the two of you were at least at the outskirts of illinois. and that had happened on three separate occasions.

reluctantly, he’d kept his promise and poorly parked his car in front of relax inn, the closest and cheapest place that google maps could turn up. located in marshall, illinois with a striking two-star rating, it had everything you needed: free parking, shitty wifi, and even complimentary breakfast. or, it had everything you needed except two separate and unoccupied rooms.

you had been surprised, at first, when the man at the front counter had only charged mark $58. but that was after he had conveniently left out that the amazing deal was actually for only one room, not two. sighing, you drop your bag to the ground in resignation at the sight of the single queen-sized bed. despite the stiff sheets and musty smell, it still stands to look inviting after ten hours, give or take, of almost nonstop driving.

with only two stops taken for restroom breaks or gas fill-ups, you figure that either one of you has reason enough to claim the bed. there is a thought of mentioning how the two of you had slept side by side with no sexual implications many times before but it’s fleeting, dismissed, and gone within seconds.

instead, you begin drafting your argument, pulling out the persuasive points of your monologue about why you were more deserving of the bed. sure, he’d driven the car the whole while, his eyes must be strained and his ability to concentrate and energy have probably been rendered null. you, on the other hand, could pull the motion sickness, weak composition, nauseated passenger princess card. yeah, surely that’d do the trick.

your opening lines are right at the tip of your tongue, ready to win over a hefty opponent, when you turn to see that mark has already situated his belongings on the ground by the couch. wary of how you’d been standing there for a good two minutes completely unmoved, he looks your way and very plainly comments, “you take the bed. i’m fine with the couch.”

and suddenly you feel very supremely guilty for having even thought of going into a full-blown verbal altercation for a slightly more comfortable place to rest. you now think about thus commencing a full-blown verbal altercation over the slightly less comfortable place to rest, if not to ease your guilty conscience, then just out of politeness. but you digress because after all, mark is way too nice and you’re way too in need of a good night’s sleep. even if it’s just slightly better.

laying in bed, scrolling on your phone, you recall that this is how it’s always been with mark. that at one point, you became too tired of always trying to be the nicer person out of politeness when mark had the kind of genuineness you’d find in about one of a million persons. sometimes, a simple exchange of things like who should get the bed could blow itself out of proportion without either of you meaning for it to have gone that far. you came to the conclusion long ago that fights about who was the nicer person weren’t necessarily fights on character, but rather just fights like any other. and choosing to let mark carry through with his niceness — accepting the last french fry, taking his jacket when it was chilly, and now letting him have the couch — didn’t mean you were inconsiderate. in a way, it was a compromise of its own to allow him the opportunity to be of service to you.

you think of showering the following morning for it seems unlikely that you’d depart the comfort and looming sleep the bed provides. squirming around, you tuck yourself under the blankets but before you could fully relinquish your body to the confines of sleep, a soft rustling by the edge of the bed coaxes your eyes to open a sliver.

mark’s squatting so that you’re right at eye level with him. his hair is mussed more than the wind had done and wet at the tips, sticking up in several places that seem to defy the laws of gravity. with an elbow set on the bed, he peers at you over the screen of his phone, eyes wide and set in the frame of his black-rimmed glasses. he doesn’t whisper though his voice comes out so low, you wouldn’t be able to tell much of a difference anyways. “sorry, i know you’re tryna sleep. just wanted to ask when you’d want to wake up tomorrow.”

repositioning to face him, you smush the side of your cheek into the pillow and the unease in mark’s face ebbs away. half alseep and a good amount dehydrated, your throat is scratchy when you pass it back to him, “what do you think?”

mark scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, “i, uh well… maybe six...?” and he traces your eyes as they find the clock on the nightstand. it reads 2:02 AM and he seems to share the same thought as you. “...thirty? six-thirty?”

you close your eyes, already losing your grasp on what he just said as you mumble out the last of your thoughts, “okay, we’ll grab breakfast downstairs and leave at seven?”

whatever he responds with goes in one ear and out the other. and it isn’t until he wakes you up, bright and early at 6:20 AM, that you remember the conversation even happened. in reality, you roll around in bed, trying to find another sweet spot that will lull you back into sleep, for about ten whole minutes. by the time you’ve given up, gotten out of bed, and begun collecting your garments for the shower, it’s 6:30 on the dot. it doesn’t even register in your mind that mark had accounted for your scheduled morning bout of grogginess until you’re out of the shower with a clearer head.

you sit across from him at breakfast and he passes the black pepper when you spoon your scrambled eggs. he offers to go refill your orange juice at one point and at another he apologizes adamantly for accidentally nudging your foot under the table. it’s only after he takes your empty plate with his back to the clean-up counter that you really bother to take a good look at him.

he must’ve skipped his morning shave, for his stubble is visible though not much more than a mere shadow. there’s a silver chain at his neck, one with a dangling cross pendant, and it sits prettily atop his plain black pocket tee. mark leads the way towards the front desk to check out. you notice the way he swirls the both the room key and car key around his fingers, his straight posture when he walks depite the heavy backpack mounted on him, and even the worn-in outline of his wallet from the rear pocket of his jeans.

and when he mistakens the pristinely cleaned glass door for a wide opening, resulting in a blooming red splotch on his forehead, you take the time to consider his big endearing head, and his big boyish eyes, and his big sloppy smile. you laugh along with him, but perhaps for more of a different reason. mark may have a big head, but at least it’s filled with good and godly things.

seconds later in the parking lot and you think to rescind those same regards. mark may be nice but there’s no way you’ll be the one to compromise on this one.

you’re fully in the seat and ready to get the car going, except mark is standing right where the door should be closing with his arms crossed and a foot hiked up on the frame of the car. his stance is a plain show of defiance, as are his firmly-stated comments. “i’m not letting you drive. you were vomiting everywhere just last night.”

“give me the keys, i need my redemption arc to happen right now.”

mark only tilts his head in disapproval, eyes boasting a look that emanates something along the lines of ‘are you kidding me?’ you press your lips thin in consideration, realizing that this has turned out to be harder than you’d bargained for. eyeing the keys hanging loosely from his left hand, you decide that your efforts were going to amount to nothing if not by way of force.

when you lunge for the keys, mark takes that you’re attacking him or something of the sort, throwing his hands out in front to block. in the three seconds the debacle had taken to unfold, the sharp end of the car key had scraped the length of your inner arm, nicking your skin clean apart. much to your chagrin and his relief, you end up in the passenger seat anyways.

mark wipes diligently at the long cut with an alcohol pad, whilst you use your unpunctured arm to search for where he’d claimed the first aid kit with the bandaids would be. you look away from the glove box to find his unimpressed disposition, and you hold the gaze until he meets it. but he only meets it for a split second before ducking his head back down to the red-stained alcohol pad, muttering low but loud enough for you to catch. “god you’re a mess, y/n.”

you return your attention to your search for bandaids, eyes rolling far into the back of your head. “i already admitted defeat. do you have to rub it in?” to which he responds with but a fleeting laugh. and by the time he can come up with a, “there we go, all clean,” you’ve conjured four bandaids for him to top it all off.

as mark busies himself with finding the most appropriate arrangement that would cover the length of the cut, you shove the first aid kit back to where you’d retrieved it in the far corner of the glove box. it’s then that the streak of red that was presumably tucked behind it catches your eye.

by the time mark returns from discarding the wipes and bandage packaging, it’s already too late for him to stop what’s to come. the red box — at first glance, what looks to be a sizable pack of cigarettes — had already found its way into your unsuspecting hands.

「 DAY 02, 07:09 AM 」 — BROCKHAMPTON SATURATION II, TRACK #16

when haechan first introduced his sophomore photography major best friend to you back in freshman year of college, he had described him as the guy with no emotional depth. and you had shaken his outstretched hand anyways, awkwardly laughing along even though you had no idea that it was an inside joke between the two of them.

you laughed again on christmas day, same year, same joke. however, you still had yet to figure out what it meant when haechan had gifted your new boyfriend the card game, cased in a brilliant red box. he had said something along the lines of “maybe this’ll get him to dig deeper” and your group of friends, most of whom had known mark since high school, seemed to find it funny and fitting.

the game itself, you knew; it was a popular drinking game among your college friends. you had played it several times yourself at more intimate gatherings, the reflective conversational prompts amounting to several instances of sob fests, tissue shortages, and long hugs. it was good for heartfelt conversations, and apparently mark wasn’t one for feelings. put two and two together and that made enough sense for you to laugh along and move on without much thought.

but well over two, almost three, years later, you wonder why it’d been shoved into the back of his glove box, the plastic wrap still intact and pristine. it’s as if mark had quite literally buried his feelings into the depths of this car, subsequently forgotten and later dug up by his girlfriend turned ex. life’s a funny thing, because only now as his ex-girlfriend do you understand what the gag gift meant in the first place.

looking out upon the barren gas station, you feel restless standing in the face of ten — bordering eleven — hours of driving beside mark of all people. but when he slips into the seat beside you, freshly washed hands wiping themselves down the length of his jeans, you begin to think of a better, or at least more interesting, way to pass the time. holding the box of cards out for him to see, your bouncing leg finally comes to a still as you suggest, “wanna play?”

mark regards the box with a joking manner, and while his casual, “yeah, why not” might prove his act of nonchalance convincing, you like to think you know him better than to look past the way his eyes had lingered, or the hesitance set in his brows, or even the readjusting of his position. he starts up the engine and moves the gear out of park as you fumble with the plastic wrapping. a small tear later and you’re peeling back the packaging, throwing small glances at mark’s way whilst he throws unsure glances at the box of cards.

two minutes back on the i-70 west, you’ve shuffled the cards until your fingers began to feel sliced through, and only then did you deem it time to begin. fanning the deck out to your left, you gesture for mark to select his first pick. he shakes his head and wordlessly gestures back at you to make the first move, a lick of his lips giving his uncertainty away.

shoving the rest of the deck into one of the cup holders on the middle console, you read along as your other hand sets forth in finding your phone. “wildcard. press shuffle on your music library. explain the first song that comes up!”

phone in hand, you look over at mark inquiringly, “me or you?” and if you had to guess his next words, there’d be no doubt that it’d be a stiff and uttered, “you.” almost taking glee in his squirmishness, you pull up spotify on your phone and click into your mess of a “liked songs” playlist. mark passes you the carplay cord and you plug it in, pressing the shuffle button apprehensively after the beep indicates it’s been connected.

heavy piano chords pan out from the speakers and a smile is slow to spread across your face as you come to a realization of what song it is. for better or for worse, mark seems to know as well, retracting his gaze from the road for less than a second to meet your eyes. there’s a sort of ‘ahh’ in them, an understanding, an underlying fondness.

in the heat of the summer…

“do i really have to explain?”

you know that you should be my boy.

“give it a go at least.”

in the heat of the summer…

“well…”

you’re so different from the rest.

you find yourself at a loss for words. amongst many other things that arise in this moment, your train of thought does its best to rationalize. why was this song still in the playlist? simple, you forgot to take it out. it’s only normal that things get buried with time. why can’t you just say that to him, then? simple, because then it’d be so easy for him to brush it off as a lame excuse, a cover-up, as to how plainly you still held onto your relationship. what the fuck are you feeling? panic. doubt. frustration. longing.

panic at the thought that he would read into it too much. doubt at the thought that there were other reasons for why you’d let this song gather dust in your playlist. frustration at the thought that there was only you to blame for this situation that you’d gotten yourself into. and longing. longing that had sat untouched for the same amount of time you’d decided to shove your feelings away instead of confronting them. longing that had since settled into your flesh and bones, going unnoticed. longing that, at the first chords of this song, had you casting your eyes downwards from the road ahead.

hastily, you grab for your water bottle, taking steady but large gulps. suddenly, your throat had become too dry. swallowing thickly, you wonder why the lump in your throat refuses to fall back. your breathing becomes noticeably haggard while the thing lodged in your throat remains. at the slightest indication of mark’s head turning your way, you snap your own in the direction of the window to avoid his questioning gaze.

biting down on your lip, your eyes fall closed even with the sprawling hills unfurling just outside. the sun is climbing to its height, as is your sudden onslaught of emotions that drowns out all noise except the sound of mark humming along to the song. you are numb, you are deaf, you are void of everything except his voice.

“do you remember?”

reverberating through you, it’s all you are able to feel.

“do you remember last summer at the lake?”

mind emptied, it’s all you know.

“it’s one of my favorite days, i’ll have you know.”

body capsized, it floods you. and it fills you to the brim until you can’t take it anymore.

“isn’t it funny that all my favorite days have been spent with you?”

and when it overflows, it comes in the form of tears.

your vision blurs and the wetness on your cheeks is quickly pulled into a pool at the edge of the seat. closing your eyes is a daunting task, even then, because you know just what you’ll see. you make the mistake of trying to blink away the tears, making them fall far faster than they had before. but for what it’s worth, it had been a favorite day of yours as well, albeit bittersweet.

the water was emerald green and the grass was knee-high. the sun rested overhead for almost fourteen hours a day and you had a tan comparable to that of a professional-grade spray. the wind was light though unrelenting, apparent in the way the clothes strewn across the clothesline were at the cusp of being carried away. everything under the sun was warm to the touch. the rocks, the grass, the water, his skin.

you snap your eyes open and only then do you notice that the car has come to a stop, pulled over to the side of the road. your hand is pressing into your forehead and the tears are still running free when you care to peer over in mark’s direction. both hands resting on the wheel, his eyes emanate in concern, lips pulled tight as if an apology was attempting to push past from within. it’s hard to pinpoint your finger directly to it, but there’s something about his expression that ticks you off so greatly that you regard him for less than a second before slipping out of the car.

the first inhale of fresh air makes the stuffiness inside the car feel like you had been breathing in water. the wind, just as it had been that day, is light though unrelenting, and it dries clean the tears in your eyes. your body sags and you give your weight into the side rails of the road, sitting against it and heaving thorough breaths to bring you some peace of mind. if you stared at your surroundings for long enough, the short grasses growing beside the road would grow long and the valleys in between the hills would carve out an emerald lake. the warmth would find its way back to you, but it’s far from pleasant and rather close to burning, scorching even. you fist and unfist your hands, recoiling from even the thought of it.

instead, you focus on the way the roughened wood of the rail nips at your skin through the thin spandex of your shorts. when you shift your position, the metal that accompanies it is hot to the touch and the uneven pavement beneath you is riddled with its fair share of pebbles and wood chips alike. taking your time, you come to pay more mind to your breathing, allowing the intakes to fill up your belly rather than your chest. the sky is a clear blue, the single cloud is pear-shaped, you can count up to seven peaks in the hills, and there are four dirt patches within your line of vision. it’s these little things that ground you.

seven minutes past. you hear a car door open you but you never hear it close. footsteps stop maybe three feet from your left but they never step any closer. he says, “whenever you’re ready,” but he never says anything more.

and perhaps that’s what hurts the most.

「 DAY 02, 01:56 PM 」 — LITTLE CRAZY LOVE SONG, MARY OLIVER 2014

“what’d you say?”

“nothing much, really—”

“well, you obviously said something if she’s voluntarily passed out for the last six hours.”

static crinkles on the other end and mark looks around at the endless stretch of trees surrounding the lone gas station. the signal is clearly not having its best moment here in the thick of the forest, but he rejoins anyways.

“i brought up last summer…” he trails off, hoping that just the season would provide enough context to tell of the situation without him explicitly having to name it as terrible, godawful, and no good whatsover. to be frank, mark wasn’t expecting understanding and empathy when he dialed haechan’s number. hell, he wasn’t even expecting to receive encouragement and good faith. perhaps all he wanted was recognition for the bad deed he’d committed and someone for him to bicker out his frustration with. and surely, haechan delivers just that.

“mark, you whole-hearted idiot. wh—”

“okay but in my defense, i thought we were having a momen—”

“i think only you were having a mo—”

“it just slipped out, i swear it wasn’t on purpo—”

“how the fuck did you think she’d react to your sappy bullshi—”

“—but it’s all cool now.”

the other end goes flat after mark’s statement and he thinks it’s owed to the faulty service, until haechan sputters in disbelief, breaking the quiet at an ear-splitting decible, “cool? you call that cool?!” mark furrows his brow at his friend’s overuse of emphasis whilst he busies himself with retrieving his credit card one-handedly. he knows that somewhere along the line, he fucked up. and he thinks he knows exactly where but at the same time, mark isn’t quite in the headspace to own up to it. so he retaliates.

“it’s like you set me up for failure.”

haechan justifies, “hey, it’s not like i did anything wrong. a friend needed a ride and i found someone who could give her just that.” but mark can hear the sarcasm in his voice and he decides he would rather confront his friend than question his ex. “i highly doubt she’d be down for a forty-two hour drive over a six-hour flight. what the fuck did you even say to convince her?”

the younger doesn’t waver when put in the spotlight. in fact, he gives it away as if it’s all just a fun prank on his end. and that’s not to say that isn’t at least partially the truth.

“i told her you already agreed to take her, same thing i said to you.”

smart as ever, he hangs up before mark’s initial surprise gets translated into brute annoyance. the silence after the disconnect tone hits him almost immediately and thus, he finds himself standing in the middle of an empty gas station, in the middle of the eerily quiet city of winona, missouri, which is sat at the edge of a brimming forest where nothing but trees run on for miles and miles on end. there’s a town & county supermarket in the same plaza and a rundown dollar general down the street he’d passed to get here.

it suddenly feels as if he’s the only person alive in this whole wide world, trapped inside his four-walled mind with no one to talk to except his regretful self. more than confronting his friends or even you, mark has known for a long time that he feels the most social anxiety whenever he’s left to confront himself. he tries to shake the thought, pocketing his wallet as he makes a beeline for the supermarket across the desolate parking lot. it’s far on foot and with each step, he descends down into the depths of despair, digging up all the times he must’ve made you uncomfortable with just his presence. for once, he doesn’t think it’s such a wonderful thing to be alone in the world with the person he loves most.

seven hours of almost straight driving is bound to make a person go at least a little insane, as mark wonders if he even remembers the last time he saw anyone other than you. he grabs a bag of popcorn, a charcuterie box, and a gallon of water at the supermarket and only at the cash register, manned by a live and tangible human, is he freed from the confines of his tortured mind.

gas filled to the max and provisions restocked, he’s once again met with the struggle of having to close the car door as quietly and undistrubingly as humanly possible. you’re still very much asleep and the last thing he wants is to jolt you awake when your latest memory of him is how he’d insensitively instigated a panic attack at barely seven in the morning, albeit unintentionally.

after he closes the door with exemplary caution and barely a thud, mark lowers his guard with a sigh in relief in tow. though in this fleeting moment of mindlessness, the very next moment he’s dropped his keys on the center console. wincing, he watches as the clattering elicits a stir on your end, fluttering eyelids, and then — to his utter horror and dismay — you wake up.

mark plays it cool, or so he thinks, by letting out a low “oh shit” to make sure you know of his accidental mistake. rubbing your eyes, the first glance you place his way isn’t strictly a glare, but it might as well be with how you barely acknowledge his stilled presence. mark waits until you’ve had a couple sips of water in your system and a full routine of arm stretches before speaking up carefully. “how’d you sleep?”

you look his way and tiredly blink a few times before saying, “fine.”

back at square one, he thinks. mark hands you the bag of popcorn and charcuterie box and reaches over to drop the giant water jug into the back seats. you eye the bag and the box confusedly, then the blanket draped across your knees that you’re sure wasn’t there when you fell asleep, and then finally your surroundings.

“what time is it?”

“about 2:20.”

“where are we?”

“missouri. just outside the mark twain national forest.”

you eye the landscape beyond the windows where you’re met with the parking lot, a few commercial structures, and a shitload of trees. you turn back towards mark, “are we on schedule?”

he nods. “we’re actually ahead of schedule. we were supposed to be just out of illinois right now.”

you give him a tight-lipped smile that does little to ease the tension. removing the blanket, you make a move for the door and mark thinks that this must be it. you’ve had enough of him, you’re tired of tolerating his presence, and you’ve set your mind on walking the rest of the way to los angeles. it’s a rather immature thought but he entertains it for a split second regardless. the second half of the second is spent coming up with a hastened, “wait.”

you’re halfway out the door when you look back over your shoulder, a left eyebrow cocked in question. mark doesn’t have anything on hand to say, so he blurts out whatever question he had first in queue, “why… why did you agree to come?”

fully out of the car, you stand facing him with one hand resting on the car door and the other situated on your hip. in your freshly awakened state, you cock your head at the absurdity of his unprompted question. there’s a trace of thought pooling in your eyes before you answer rather nonchalantly, “i wanted to see how you’ve been.” the words hang in the air, waiting for mark to process them, and when he does it’s as if he’s had the wind knocked out of him. breathily, he recites a quiet, “oh i see,” and then you shut the door square in his face, leaving him with only an equally quiet, “i need to use the restroom, be right back.”

mark thinks back to why he himself had agreed in the first place and he’s not sure how much of a role haechan’s little ruse had played anyways. he appreciates the honesty with which you answered because it gives him the space to be honest with himself as well. he’d agreed to go because a part of him wanted to see how you’d been doing as well, but he’d also agreed to go because a part of him simply just wanted to see you. the little stunt that haechan had pulled was just the tip of the iceberg of reasons that led to this whole ordeal, and mark thinks — or at least hopes — that that had been the case for you too.

when you return, freshened up and looking more lively than you had in hours, mark’s more prepared than the last time he’d thrown a haphazard question your way. you’re fastening your seat belt when he asks, “since we’re ahead of schedule, do you wanna go for a drive around the forest?”

he sees where it starts, slow in the upturn. what looks like the beginnings of a frown blooms into an easy smile. it doesn’t reach your eyes, but it doesn’t need to for mark to know that you mean it. “around?”

he smiles too, quick with a flash of teeth and a breathy chuckle. “in, i mean. in the forest.”

you let your head retract to facing frontwards, leaning back into your seat as you nod, “sure, let’s go.” folding the maroon blanket into your lap, you follow mark’s pointed finger until your eyes set on his backpack shoved under your seat. “there should be a map in there. can you be my guide?”

for a second, he thinks he’s being too greedy with your patience but your easy smile flattens to show complacency. “i can do that,” and you salvage the map from the front pocket of the mess of his backpack. seeing about an inch-thick stack of maps in the same compartment, you look towards him with your smile now edging towards a knowing tease. “you planned for this, didn’t you?”

mark shakes his head fervently though he can’t find it in himself to audibly deny. after all, number two on his bucket list is to visit all the national parks and forests the country has to offer. how could you have expected him to resist when passing by a city that sat directly under 1.5 acres of forest land? and with the extra time to spare, it was a given.

you have the map crinkled open on your lap as you load up the top destinations with your phone in hand. mark’s excitement seems to be rubbing off on you; his giddy smile lends into your glittering eyes, his drumming fingers on the steering wheel translating to your bouncy leg. twenty-four minutes north — one right turn and one left turn — later, you’ve successfully navigated the both of you to alley spring and mill, a three-story red statement with a clear turquoise spring tucked behind.

the summer heat licks at the nape of your neck when you first open the door. you grab the blanket, the charcuterie box, the bag of popcorn and — with a thought spared in consideration — the stack of cards shoved into the cupholder after tucking your phone into the waistline of your shorts. the rush of water grows louder as you approach, the uneven pavement ebbing off into scuffed dirt and then brustling grass further down the stretch. pausing a good distance away from the decades-old structure, you hear a sigh in wonderment coming from behind.

mark’s mamiya rz67 weighs down one hand, the other raised to his brow to deflect the glare of the sun. he has a sort of satisfied look to his face, one that only grows as he makes his way to catch up to you. “good find,” he comments, tearing his gaze away from the sights to meet your eyes. pride snuggles into the corners of your smile and you duck away from his stare.

“lemme go find somewhere for us to settle down for a bit,” you hold up the blanket in gesture and then wave him off with another smile, “you go do your thing, don’t mind me.”

there’s a few people here and there coming in and out of the mill and a few more along the skirts of the spring, but you manage to find a quiet spot along the water with some trees to offer a decent amount of shade. it’s much cooler down here, where the spray disperses itself fresh from the water and into the air, and you drape the blanket over the mildly damp grass. spreading the contents of the charcuterie box across a napkin and pouring a portion of the popcorn into the now empty box, the setting begins to look as if it were all planned and not, in fact, an impromptu day trip that fell in motion less than a half-hour ago.

slipping your shoes off, you ease into the spot, appreciating the clear air while you can. if you shield your eyes, you can see mark in the distance with his phone held up to the red building to check the light settings. he takes a shot there in that position, and you swear you can hear the ka-shink! of his shutter even from this far away. nibbling a corner of brie cheese, you watch him closely as he jogs in a zig zag across the plot to find another interesting shot to frame.

mark gets six or seven more in before he rounds upon where you’re sat, having finally found the alcove of shade you’d claimed. he’s still holding his camera with one hand, the size of his palm making the five pound camera seem small. in the back of your mind, you can still recall the weight of it from a year ago as mark demonstrated how to advance the film for your first try at a shot. you remember how difficult it was to get the hang of medium format photography, much less the bothersome large format that mark used to haul around wherever he went.

“may i join you?”

snapped out of your momentary reminiscence, you glance up at mark as if you hadn’t even seen him coming your way. at the nod of your head, he takes his spot across the blanket with his legs criss crossed. the seconds tick away while your eyes trace the lines of his hands, moving familiarly to load a new film stock into his camera. the delicacy of his movements, the steadfastness of his grip, the roughness of his knuckles, and the baby soft pads of his fingers.

there’s nothing to do with his hands when he’s done with his camera so he resorts to fiddling with the folds of the blanket and occasionally reaching for a grape. mark looks a little lost, if you are to be honest. or at least, it seems as if he’s unsure of his presence; too scared of breaching boundaries thus he shies away from interactions altogether. his patterns of behavior are nothing new to you. and though there was once a time where you’d despise having to always be the one to coax him out of his shell of insecurity, you aren’t nearly so distressed to do so when there’s no strings attached, no long withheld feelings that come with it.

“when should we get back on the road?”

mark looks up at you in surprise and relief floods his face when he realizes no sign of annoyance in your expression. as if he were taking a firm hold of the hand you’d extended, he responds kindly, “it’s best if we go before five, so we can take our time on the road.”

you check your phone and the time reads a quarter past four. scrolling down your notification screen to see if you missed any important messages, you find about four consecutive texts from haechan, sent just before you woke up from the six hour stress nap you inadvertently took.

【 2:06 PM 】 bro u good? 【 2:06 PM 】 mark told me what happened 【 2:06 PM 】 should i beat him up for u? haha 【 2:08 PM 】 call me when u get a chance ;)

shutting off your phone, you retrace your attention back to mark. he’s the spitting image of a kid whose one and only friend didn’t show up to school today, hence he had to sit at his own table during lunch. you chuckle under your breath at the thought and he happens to hear, giving you a raise of his brow to which you only shake your head in dismissal.

so badly do you want to just clear the air — his newly uptight demeanor being a nightmare to get along with — but you know better than anyone how avidly mark avoids confrontation at all costs. to bring it right to his front steps is just asking for uncalled-for frustration. you zip your lips, and eye your surroundings, hoping for a topic of conversation to jump out at you.

sure enough, the red boldface catches your eye and it lingers. who says confrontation is the only way to subdue the tension? sometimes all you need is a little fun. and what’s better than a game to do just that? you place a hand atop the deck and wait for mark to recognize your intentions before softly suggesting, “your turn?”

the expression he dons is a bit squirmish as he reaches for the cards, but you can tell that he’s glad his careless words hadn’t ruined the game for you forever. his fingers make quick work in shuffling them neatly and, face down, he draws one from the pile at random.

“what do you think is the hardest part of what i do for a living?”

mark glances up at you from the card expectantly and you’re thrown off guard for a moment. “i answer? i did the last one though.”

he only laughs, “yeah i know. but even if i wanted to answer, i couldn’t. you don’t have a job.”

“oh that’s right,” you smile, masking a tinge of embarrassment at your late realization,” okay, i’ll answer it then.”

you cross your legs like his and pluck a grape for your fingers to play around with. momentarily in thought, you realize that there’s not much to the question, not when pertaining to mark and not when asked to you.

“the thing is, i’ve seen a lot firsthand. and i think you know what i’m going to say.”

it’s his turn to be thrown off guard with wide eyes and a hand to his chest, “i do?”

nodding, you pop the grape into your mouth to give leeway for your thoughts to string into words. shortly after swallowing, the words follow in suit, “i mean, you love your job and from what i remember, it pays your bills. which is great, it’s really great.” careful with your next words, you approach them with caution, “but at the same time, i think — and correct me if i’m wrong — i think...it’s put a strain on some of your relationships.”

mark doesn’t look the least bit surprised. in fact, you’re sure he’d known the answer the second after he read the question. hardly disappointed, he smiles wide when your eyes brim with uncertainty. reassuring you, “you’re right on point,” and then nudging you along, “i still want you to elaborate on it though.”

“okay,” you smile back at him, mostly in relief, “i know this is pretty personal, but since you insist…”

and so you trailed on about what you knew. on how his job drove a wedge between him and his parents. on how they told him it was one thing to chase after your dreams, and a whole other to let your dreams crush you. but to him, dropping out of college didn’t make those two semesters a waste of time and money. rather, he thought that going to college in the first place made it easier for him to realize it wasn’t the path he wanted to walk. there were always going to be times where he wouldn’t be able to make ends meet but that was nothing to him if he could have the support of his friends and family to do what he loved most.

you knew very well that a “strain” was a light way to put it. his parents cut him off at nineteen when they realized he wouldn’t be returning to school. as most parents would be, they were worried but unwilling to financially support their son who they no longer believed in. his mom still brings stacks upon stacks of tupperware kimchi and side dishes each month and his dad still passes money under the table at family dinners. but for some reason, they could never look him straight in the eye.

“do you ever feel like they betrayed you?”

“no, never,” he declares almost immediately. “it’s easy to think that they did. it’s harder to really feel that way when i know how much they love me. it’s just that we value different things.” mark says it so convincingly that you nearly dismiss the suspicions behind your question. when you meet his eyes and they are dark and glossed over, you start to believe them a lot more than what he’d just said.

seeing his pain resurface as if it were there the whole time, you’re reminded of the guilt you carry for breaking up with him at perhaps the most vulnerable point in his life. knowing that mark could never blame you for it, you blame yourself in his place.

looking down from his gaze, you hold your left hand in your right, imagining it as his, and hope that just the thought of wanting to hold his hand offers him some comfort, in some sort of cosmically significant way.

「 DAY 02, 10:34 PM 」 — TOMAYTO TOMAHTO

mark drove past the ‘welcome to oklahoma’ sign at 7:30 PM. between cherokee and muscogee nation, he considered stopping at tulsa for the night instead of oklahoma city, the capital. it was around 9:00 by then and you were still fairly energized; he took from that to continue even though it was you who slept through the day, not him.

in your search, etrip.net claimed holiday inn to be $19 for a two person room, seemingly a ‘too good to be true’ deal for a four-star hotel with an indoor pool. you booked it anyways — though only after confirming that he was fine with sharing a room — and keyed in the address into google maps for mark to follow.

when you look out the window less than a half hour to your destination, it’s near pitch black, save for the distant outlines of buildings behind large fields of what you assume to be grass. the two of you are just outside the city and when you roll down the window; the air is rather cool and crisp for a summer night. there’s a truck in front of your car with a shipment of fresh tomatoes and the scent of them wafts sweetly in the dawdling air.

basked in a comfortable silence for the first time during this whole trip, you feel that summer break has finally started. the days are long and long gone are your day-to-day worries about when this assignment is due and how much this exam will affect your grade. in hindsight, they were all passing worries, things that never irked you for long enough to be significant. and now that you had finally made peace with it all — moved on, and slowed down — the world seems much more pleasant, less frantic, and more at ease than you remembered. it’s quiet and you’re happy.

glimpsing to your left to check how mark’s holding up, the first thing you’re met with are his wide, frenzied eyes. you trace his line of sight whilst venturing to ask, “you good?” before noticing the oblong shape that’s been planted straight into the dead center of the windshield. upon further scrutiny, there’s a redish secretion that’s oozing down the glass.

“y/n...what the fuck is that?”

the two of you are stunned in your seats, frozen at the thought of what it could possibly be. (a hockey puck! a donut! a scoop of ice cream! a bloodied body part?!) though soon enough, your conscience returns in time for you to register it as a tomato, straight from the truck ahead.

“holy shit,” mark mutters, and he begins to slow the car down and away from the alleged source. a second hits, (“fuck!”), right where your head would have been if not for the window. the third and fourth follow shortly, splatters sounding more like fist-sized rocks under the sheer force of impact. mark sees you ducking and dodging, this way and that, and his blood pressure sky rockets as a huge portion of his side becomes slathered in goop.

both of you are screaming at this point, mark has no way of knowing when the road will curve, and he’s still going seventy miles per hour, occasionally speeding faster whenever a jolt of adrenaline hits too hard and he loses fine control of his foot on the gas pedal. “roll up the damn window!” and your fingers fumble around for the button, almost opening up the whole door in the process.

you swerve your head right after the window’s safetly shut to see if anyone’s tailgating. “pull over, mark. there’s no one behind us.” and when the car comes to a stop, the two of you are panting uncontrollably, despite having barely moved for hours. there are no thoughts running through your mind — absolutely none, zero — when you turn your head to meet his eyes. and the second you do, the two of you burst into laughter, in utter disbelief at what just happened.

still breathless at the thought, your hand comes to your mouth in belated shock. the aftermath is disastrous. cautiously opening the door, you can spot remnant tomato juice dripping from the bottom edge. mark rounds the car twice in inspection, only to find that every last corner of his precious subaru crosstrek is coated in a sheen of red except for the back, bottom, and some of the top. the meager stack of napkins you saved from earlier in the day does the best they can, sweeping off most the meat but none of the juice. the scent doesn’t seem so sweet anymore when it’s all you can smell from a mile away.

you notice that mark has been standing in the same position for the last four minutes, unmoved with both hands on his hips, sweat gleaning from his brow, and a distant look in his eyes. you fear speaking up will spook him into tears. luckily, he speaks first.

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

“can you find the nearest coin-op car wash on my phone?”

“okay.”

“i’ll…” he trails off into a breathy laugh, that kind of echoed laugh that makes you want to give him all your hopes and dreams, support and love. “...i’ll be here for a bit.”

you clamber back into the passenger seat, careful not to transfer any of the liquids indoors. his phone is mounted on a stand and you pry it off, wondering how you would get past his passcode. you key in his birthday, a reasonable first try, but the lockscreen doesn’t budge. pressing your lips thin, you try to recall what his password had been way back then. mark was never one for unnecessary changes; he held onto his possessions and habits stubbornly.

after an aha! moment comes a moment of doubt. to get the code right was one thing, but you weren’t sure how you’d feel if it was indeed unchanged. shrugging off the hesitation, you press in the four numbers anyways, and sure enough it unlocks.

dumbfounded, your hands drop into your lap and your vision stills, zoned out on the curve of the steering wheel. it’s hard to really understand what you’re feeling and it’s even harder to discern mark’s intentions behind keeping his passcode set as your birthday after all this time. the signs have been there—and you had kept to avoiding them—but now is the first time you’re facing the possibility that mark still has feelings for you. and even just the thought of how it doesn’t disturb you greatly warrants extra precaution on your end.

mistakes are made so that they won’t be repeated.

you repeat the sentence to yourself perhaps five times over, and carry on with locating the nearest coin-operated car wash station as per his instruction. mark got in the car five minutes later with a small smile on his face. “it is what it is,” as he had put it. with only thirty minutes left, the car ride resumes in silence though this time around, there’s nothing comfortable about it. the man next to you is humming along to some john mayer song, oblivious to your disconterting mood that was induced solely by him (and partially by you, if we’re to be crystal clear).

deciding not to get too worked over it, you fixate, instead, on playing word games with haechan. time passes quickly as you win most of the rounds, half the time wondering why he’s even still awake when it’s already fairly late in his timezone. you make a mental note to call him when you get settled at the hotel, sooner the better if anything.

mark manages to hum along to every single song that comes up on the radio, sometimes even singing with a full voice and vibrato. you’re partially relieved that he’s no longer so on edge around you, also aware that now it’s you who’s way too in over your head. figuring that it wouldn’t be much of a problem once you call it a night, you move past your concerns and finally take a glance up from your phone.

marvelling at the ever-changing landscape on the other side of the window, your mouth falls agape at how the bare grasslands have since given away to streets among streets of buildings. you can peer even further down, where the city lights of oklahoma city make out a twinkling night sky, replacing the stars with their light pollution. devon tower stands the tallest and most discernable of the skyscrapers and for a second, your troubles melt away as you fall captive to The Big Friendly.

long past rush hour, the streets downtown are jam packed with both cars and pedestrians, forcing mark to brake every other second. the city night life in oklahoma feels warmer than the busy new york city had ever been. flourescent signs flash bright in invitation for you to enter, people flood the streets, swarmed with laughter and filled with good food. you keep a smile to yourself as this tedious road trip begins to feel a little more like a long-anticipated vacation.

marks pulls up at the coin wash station you’d found for him earlier. with it being a ten minute’s distance from the city’s main streets, the surrounding areas are quiet at this slow hour. when you reach over to unbuckle your seat belt, a hand comes to stop you and with a patient smile on his face, mark simply tells you, “wait here, i’ll clean it up real quick,” as he slips out of the car.

given no time to react much less disagree, he shuts the door behind him and you end up sitting in the car by yourself, watching mark as he busies around with his coins and then gets to hosing down the red streaks striping his car. presumably, they had dried in the wind. what a sight his car must have looked like, rolling through the city streets as if it’d been dunked in ketchup.

you get the idea then, while you’re idling around, to call up haechan quickly while you have the moment to yourself. if you could be curt with him, beat around the bush like the annoying little brat you are, you’ll have no problem with wrapping up the call within the next five to ten minutes it takes for mark to get the car scrubbed and shiny.

the phone rings a whopping total of seven times before he picks up. you put him on speaker and the groggy voice you’re met with is a telltale sign that you’ve freshly awoken him. “the fuck you want? i just fell asleep, you cow.” at least he went to bed, you think, whilst turning his loud ass voice off speaker and bringing your phone to your ear.

“woah, no need to be so vulgar. you’re the one who told me to call you.”

you hear a scoff coming from the other end. at his next quip, his voice is no longer groggy, now boasting a new tone of feisty. “yeah. i meant when i’m actually awake and willing to answer. bye, i’m hanging up now.”

“hey,” you whine, “you’re awake and i’m free right now so let’s just get it over with. what did you want to talk about?”

there’s a clear pause of deliberation on his end, only for less than three seconds though. “how’s it going with mark? i heard he made you cry.”

you sigh into the receiver, fingers having found the rim of your water bottle and decidedly tracing the cap around and around. “so he told you everything, i see. he just brought up some bad memories and i got overwhelmed in the moment. it’s all cool now.”

the line goes silent for while longer and the blasting hose outside just happens to shut off at the same time. you look up from your water bottle and through the shower of water, mark’s peering in with a sponge in hand, gleeful eyes greeting you hello. you give him an absentminded wave in return with your free hand.

usually, haechan had too much to say about everything but to your surprise, he only ponders with a lilt, “...it’s all cool?”

“it’s all cool,” you confirm. mark sweeps his sponge-equipped arm across the length of the windshield, the thick lather of bubbles building a wall between you and him. but just as his fingers dot two eyes and a big smile into the soap for you to see, haechan synchronizes, “so you guys are getting along?”

mark peeks into one of the holes to see you smiling as wide as the playful smiley face he’d drawn, the same one that was now at the mercy of the drooping liquids. contradicting your ear-splitting grin, you remark offhandedly, “we agreed to be friends.” and after a beat, you fill in the missing blanks, “for the sake of this trip, i mean.”

“friends…” haechan seems to have his panties in a twist today, for he’s pausing at all the weird moments, saying all the weirdest things. you can almost imagine the shake of his head as he cryptically states, “that won’t do.”

“what won’t do?”

the hose water is turned back on as mark directs it right at the windshield this time. you almost shriek in surpise, barely catching the click of his tongue that haechan gives. after dousing the windows clean, mark reaches for the snow broom to shimmy off the remaining water droplets. going row by row, he gives you a sore attempt at a wink when you meet his eyes. you supress your giggles as haechan’s dissatisfied voice soars past your ears without much thought.

“how can you be just friends with him when you still like him?”

you’re in no mood to be taking him seriously, so you end up saying the first thing that pops into your mind. “i’m pretty sure he’s the one that still likes me.”

“well you’re not wrong there.”

mark throws in another silly face — a really blown out toothed smile — and you decide then that you should probably end the call soon before haechan drags you into another discussion of who’s still hung up on who and who’s still in love with who. you decide then that, for tonight at least, you want to set aside the messy feelings and just have fun. because that’s what’s easiest when you’re with mark lee.

momentarily forgetting that you’re still on call, you hastily ramble out a quick, “hey i gotta go, something came up,” and the eye roll that haechan’s sure to give is predictable as it is true. “fine,” he deadpans, “talk to you later. or not, i don’t know maybe something will come up and i’ll forget about you for two weeks.” and with that, he hangs up right as mark reenters the car, eyes all shimmery and filled with glee.

“you have fun out there?”

he messes around with a few wet tips of his hair. “a lot of fun, actually. you should help me out next time.”

your heart races messily and mercilessly at the thought of ‘next time,’ so much so that you only have enough mindpower to muse absorbedly, “maybe i should.” he gets his seat belt buckled and you cap your water bottle after taking a long swig.

“so…” mark starts whilst pressing the start engine button, “who was that on the phone?”

“haechan wanted to know if we were ripping each other’s hair out yet.”

mark chuckles, reversing the car out of the small lot. his eyes tell you he knows that a lot more than just that was discussed, but he resists prying to a certain extent. “so what’d you tell him?”

“well...” you take a moment to admire his side profile, his one hand resting casually on the wheel, and the gentle way his lips curve into a smile when you say, “i told him that i still have a full head of hair.”

「 DAY 03, 12:00 AM 」 — YOU ARE MY SOUVENIR, MY PROOF THAT I WAS HERE

what etrip.net forgot to mention was that the $19 you happily gave away was actually just a reservation fee, and not — as they had deceived you into thinking — the actual price of the room. you direct a sheepish smile towards mark as the bright-faced young man at the front counter charges $124 on your card. evidently, the internet is why you have trust issues.

the hotel sits right in the belly of downtown oklahoma city, with the touristy bricktown district only two blocks away. you’re given a card key to a spacious room with a queen sized bed draped in a crisp and plush duvet. from the updated appliances to the chic furniture and decor, every corner of the room smelled like fresh lemon verbena.

“i guess this is what you get when you pay top dollar.”

mark nods dazedly, but at the mention of money, he snaps out of his haze. “here,” he fishes out his phone from his back pocket, “i’ll transfer you the $62.”

you recline into the white lounge chair in the corner of the room. a ding! sounds from your bag that you’ve set on the floor besides you, signaling the transaction. eyes now closed in respite, you direct your “thanks” towards no one in particular.

there’s no couch this time, despite having paid a ridiculous amount, so mark sets himself atop the left side of the bed. he rummages through the front pocket of his backpack until he draws forth a thin booklet with a giant OKC in bolded yellow on the front. as he remembered, there’s a checklist list on the second page that covers all the must-do, must-see activities and locations that oklahoma city has to offer.

mark looks up at you, then back down at the book, then back at you and back down at the book. he knows you well enough to see that you’ve yet to fall asleep. but give it another two or three minutes and the snores will catch up to you. but before those two or three minutes round upon him, mark decides that he has nothing to lose. if you want to come, you’ll come. if not, he still has a whole city to plow through in one night.

“hey.” there’s a hand on your shoulder and it’s shaking you lightly. distantly, you think that you’ve entered a state of lucid dreaming. a second after, the voice returns to say, “y/n, wake up,” and you’re conscious enough to recognize it as mark’s. willing your eyes to open, he’s hovering right above you with apprehensive eyes. “let’s go out.”

still not quite awake and still unsure of what you just heard, you blurt rather obtrusively, “what?”

“i mean...i mean like let’s go out out,” and he gestures to the window to make his point clearer. “we can get late dinner, or really early breakfast, or just walk around for a bit.”

not very convinced, you only frown at him. in turn, he’s prompted to ramble on further. “okay, but when’s the next time you’re visiting oklahoma?”

“like… never,” you drawl out slowly. mark nods fervidly as if there were a right answer and you were at the precipice of discovering it. impatient or in sudden fervor, he exasperates, “exactly! so you should make the most of tonight and see what it has to offer.”

he’s like an overly enthusiastic salesman and you decide that even if it’s just to please him, there’s no harm in playing tourist for a few hours; you could sleep as much as you want on the road anyways. you give in, “okay fine,” and watch as he pumps a fist not-so-covertly. “gimme like five minutes to change first though.”

by the time you meet him at the lobby, mark’s switched out his tour guide booklet for his phone, having loaded up all the destinations in preparation. the warm air outside is breezy to a fault and the wind picks up your hair and sloshes it this way and that. mark is quick to laugh but equally quick to tuck the wandering strands behind your ears. unknowingly, you blush and when you don’t break the stare, he breaks it for you. the tips of his ears are red when he looks away.

the first stop — a touristy jazz club — is closed for renovation, and the next one that you guys attempt had rebranded into a strip club. unease begins to nibble away at mark’s intial excitement, as his exhaustion and embarrassment collide to dampen his mood. the sidewalk crowd doesn’t care to part for two, so mark grabs hold of your wrist, leading you towards what he hopes is the final destination for the night.

mark finds his composure being built up and chipped away by your presence in the exact way he’d expected it to even before this whole ordeal of a trip. he can avoid your careful eyes and feign ignorance towards your attempts at civility, but he will never be one to deny to himself how much he still cares, how much he has always and will always care, about your opinion of him. it’s in the littlest ways that he hopes if not to impress you, then to make you smile at the least. mark doesn’t endeavor to lie to himself about that — that he wants you to smile and that he wants, even more so, to be the reason behind it.

he thinks he’s done a rather good job of accomplishing that tonight. from afar, “the flea” is but a green box with brick facing and a short line abutting the entrance. but upon entering, the ambiance of the bar feels rather like an old school arcade, with low ceilings and dimly colored lighting. it’s littered with games from pool to cornhole to connect four, and people are drunk and having fun. mark glances at you to gauge your liking, and supresses the urge to pump a lame and loser-ish fist at they way your eyes glisten in response to your lively surroundings.

he’s not sure if he’ll ever get the courage to apologize for the consequence of his thoughtless ramble from earlier in the day. and he knows that an apology is what you deserve. but in his own selfish and self-serving way, he hopes that this one night of drinking and games will at the very least make up for your soured impression of him.

you order two beers at the bar and amble over to mark, who’s found himself a spot at the darts corner. handing him the drink and taking a swig of your own, you query with a cocked eyebrow in the direction of the board, “wanna bet?”

taking the drink from your hands, mark deadpans, “you suck at darts.”

mouth full, you quickly swallow before laughing aloud, “maybe i got better, you never know.”

mark rolls his eyes in disbelief, but concedes nevertheless, “so what’s on the line?”

you take a quick scan around the room in consideration when a girl standing on the opposite side of the room by the pool table catches your eye. but not because she’s looking at you. feet crossed at the ankles and left hand swirling a half-emptied margarita, she has her sights set square on mark. a small smile dawns upon your face, and you turn back towards him. “you lose, you get her number.”

once glance around the room and he, too, knows who you’re talking about. maybe his heart sinks a little. and so he laughs. maybe he wishes you wouldn’t be so quick to write him off with another person other than you. mark takes a sip of his beer, and looks around the room once again. maybe he doesn’t mean what he’s about to say. “you lose, you get his number.” maybe he wants you to know that he still likes you, at least a lot more than the guy by the bar with the sleazy smile.

you take a look at him yourself and decide that he wouldn’t be too bad of a punishment. some part of you felt the need to distinguish you and mark as two single friends who were just hanging out. the barrier needed to be defined after how it’d been ebbing between the extremes of exes and more than exes the whole day. it’s hard to say that you don’t like mark at this point. and that while any other guy could make you feel things, it would never amount close enough to what mark made you feel.

but it’s even harder to say that you would want to get back together with him.

mark decides on a 200 point game and whilst you get off to a good start with two 20-pointers, mark beats you out by almost a hundred point margin to sum up the game. today, he feels up for admitting the truth to himself, for he knows well that he had tried his best to lose. but any further effort on that attempt would have made it obvious, as there was no conceivable way for him to out-lose your constant 1-pointers without suspicion.

he watches as you down the rest of your beer before gesturing in the direction of the bar. he smiles back when you mouth, “i’ll be back,” over the blaring music. he knows why you’re being like this. he knows that it’s mostly his fault. he also knows that you’re doing this to protect yourself, that it’s not a means of punishing him. but mark accepts his punishment anyways, looking onwards as you approach the guy with a tap on his shoulder. he watches as the guy’s eyes rakes your figure in delight, sets a casual hand on your waist, smiles along to your cheesy pick up line.

but mark tears his eyes away before the guy can smash his greasy lips onto yours, or before you respond in kind. even seeing him lean in made mark sick to the stomach. he goes to retrieve the darts from the board and when he returns, you’ve returned too. “got it,” you show him the contact and number in your phone, “and i got a smooch on the cheek too.”

a small, “ew,” is all he can muster in his confusion of equal relief and disappointment. mark keeps you close for the rest of the night. you suggest many times that he go talk to this girl, or how that girl looks like his exact type. but you don’t seem to understand that mark only wants to talk to you and that you’re the only person in this room, or even in the world, he’d consider to be his exact type. you are nowhere near the understanding that mark has never felt this unlucky to be spending the night with a girl he wants but has lost the privilege to have.

you’re tipsy, with an arm linked with his and your head on his shoulder, as he walks the two of you back to the hotel. mark can’t tell you — at least not in this state — how he’s thought of trying again at least a million times. he’s come up with a million scenarios of how he’d somehow loop himself back into your life and slowly regain your trust for him. a million times over, he’d lost the confidence to follow through, always so sure that he would fall in the same patterns of negligence and immaturity. even so, he’s never wanted to try as much as he does right now.

he places your shoes by the bedside and slips off your dirty socks to add to the laundry. rummaging through your toiletries bag, he comes upon the micellar water and reusable cotton pads. he swipes it across your sleeping face to collect the makeup and extra debris, then washes the two pads and clips them on a hanger to dry. mark is dutiful in drawing the covers up to your chin, in pulling your hair back from your face, in everything a boyfriend would do.

mark is sober when he sets his lockscreen as the only thing he has to remember oklahoma city by: a photo of you, smiling at him.

「 DAY 03, 8:21 AM 」 — HIS APOLOGY

“what is the hardest truth you had to face this year?”

you place the card to the back of the deck after reading the question aloud. mark takes his eyes off the road for a split second to glance at you. fiddling with a used toothpick with your fingers, mark wonders when you started flossing after years and years of ignoring your dentist’s nagging. yesterday, he noticed you were using a different chapstick brand than what he remembered as your go-to. you wear your hair up more often, and you frequent warm-toned clothing as opposed to your routine neutrals.

the more time he spends around you, the more mark realizes he’s never felt this distant from you. in barely two days time, he’s been surprised by how much you’ve changed in the relatively short duration the two of you spent apart compared to the time you had spent together. mark’s even more surprised by how little he’s changed in comparison.

the thirty seconds you’ve taken to formulate a response — to decide your terms of vulnerability in just how much to divulge — weren’t nearly enough for mark to be prepared for what you were about to share.

you don’t look at him when you speak. with your eyes set on the passing hills just outside, your voice breaches lowly into the air and across the car, right to mark’s utter confusion at the first of your words.

“i’ve learned that no amount of love goes wasted. i’ve learned that bad, unfortunate, terrible things happen to good people everyday, most of the time for no reason.” when you next blink, there’s a thin film of tears that gloss your eyes. “i’ve learned that the same bad, unfortunate, terrible things can happen to the very people that you love, and that sometimes there is nothing you can do about it.”

he thinks he can hear your breaths, or some similar rhythm pulsing in the thickened air, taut with tension and the fragility of your words. two beats pass, then four, before mark confirms it to be your now labored breathing. it stops shortly after, and you continue speaking to your best ability, which even then amounts to very little. “i’ve learned…”

mark turns to look at you for a little longer than he should, and the composure with which you held your head gives out, the weight of his gaze somehow heavier than that of your circumstances. he’s never seen you like this. he doesn’t know what’s your reality, and that this car, this trip, this moment, is your escape.

“i’ve learned what it means to grieve for someone before they’ve even passed.”

he doesn’t know that you’re running on stolen time. he doesn’t know, wasn’t there, never saw how your mom had given your hand a squeeze, feeble but certain. how she faults her poorly-timed illness. how she struggled to sit up to give your grief-stricken, heartbroken body a hug and a kiss goodbye, regretful she might never be able to rejoice in her daughter’s marriage, and yet grateful that at least her other daughter can rejoice in her stead.

when you find it in yourself to lift your head upright, mark takes in another glance at the puffiness around your eyes and the streaks running down your cheek to your neck. he knows he should free a hand to locate the tissue box or offer that hand in support but he can hardly breathe, much less move, when you start speaking again.

“it’s my mom. her cancer, it’s relapsed.”

for a few seconds, all he can hear is the white noise of his car tires on an endless expanse of road. it’s like your words dissolve into the noise, refusing their impact on his own ears, richocheting between reality and his imagination. mark holds so still that he might as well have stopped breathing, or thinking, or being.

it’s only when he hears a sob escape from you that his gravity returns to him out of a sense of realized necessity. a sort of certainty courses through his veins when he pulls over the car. there’s barely anyone on the road to witness him exit and circle around to your side. mark moves with conviction when he pulls your door open, unbuckles your seat belt, and embraces you whole. neither of you register the tears leaking from his eyes nor the way his hands shake ever so slightly, because his expression has been set straight, and his body sturdy for you to lean on.

forehead pressed to his chest, you’re gasping for air and making all sorts of incomprehensible sounds of anguish. you weren’t sure of where your strength had come from to confide in him like that, after you’d dutifully dedicated yourself to a trip detached fully of worries beyond your control at home. but you know it now. in the way he pats down your hair, rubs circles into your back, holds all the same grief-stricken, heartbroken pieces of your body together like glue, you know that it’s because it’s mark.

he doesn’t yet know what he’s saying but it’s coming out of him anyways. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he panics even more when you’re shaking your head in his arms, your hitched breaths unable to let forth any words of disagreement. but mark shakes his head too. you don’t know.

you don’t know how much it hurts him. from his heart, in his bones, through every fiber of his being he feels it. his apology.

“i’m sorry for not being there when you needed me most.”

you make up for your loss of words by looking up at him, finally. his mask of placidity folds, first at the seams with the furrow of his brow, but then in full as his face scrunches into what can only be described as indescribable heartache. his shirt is fisted in your hands as you sob, “how could you… how could you have known?”

mark shuts his eyes because he doesn’t think he has it in him to bear witness to the misery written across your face. his heart hammers inside his chest, unpromising of any relief any time soon. he holds you together, closely, closer, until there’s hardly a hardly a point of separation between the two of you.

your question rings in his head, because it makes no sense, because it only makes him feel worse about the last year he’s spent alone, because even without you by his side…

“i should have just known.”

only now do you realize that your trust in mark is the one thing that could possibly nullify your entire messy history. in hindsight, it was obvious. you knew that if you told him, he would make it his duty to make you feel better. you told him because maybe that’s precisely what you wanted to feel. and maybe you needed mark, more than anyone, to hug you like this and to convince you that everything was somehow going to work out. because maybe, just maybe, you would begin to believe it for yourself.

「 00:00 」 — AMARANTH

it was something that you didn’t think was possible. to live with someone, to inhabit the same room, sleep in the same bed, and yet, to be so distanced to the point at which you were strangers.

sometimes he’d leave a mug on the kitchen counter, lukewarm coffee left idle. other times the tv would be left on when you got home from class, or the shower was wet when you stepped in. it was these small things, like traces of a ghost, that reminded you of your relationship with mark, or what was left of it.

on the off chance that the two of you would meet face-to-face, he was always reserved to himself. a few small apologies, maybe a peck to your lips, and always a search for reassurance — that you would’t leave him, that you wouldn’t understand where he was coming from, that you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

the it was complicated. on the surface, the it was his absence in the physical sense. despite dropping out from college and having a suddenly abundant amount of free time, barely any of that time was spent with you. despite moving in to your apartment after being cut off financially from his parents and being forced to move out of the school dorms, the it was him rarely being at home. mark was always out on some unnamed errand, or to shoot at some far away location, hours away from anyone and anything.

but under all that, the it was his inability to face himself and his future head on. the it was his latent realization that there were consequences to his impulsive and headstrong decisions, more than he had the foresight to think of, more than what he was capable of dealing with at the time. the it meant that he was incapable of putting any of these feelings to words, and even more so unwilling to say these words aloud to you.

mark didn’t know how to tell you he was lost without feeling like he had lost the one thing that was left of him — his dignity. he had held his head high when he’d passed word around that he would quit school, certain that it wasn’t the right path for him. he had held his head high when he had left his parents’ house, his childhood home, after his own father had gotten on his knees to beg him to just finish up his degree, to hold out for one last year. but he couldn’t even admit to himself, much less you, that he didn’t know what to do with himself after all his bravado had worn off.

it was an adulthood thing, he’d much later come to understand, his own version of a dramatic coming of age movie where he needed to lose himself in order to find himself. and it led him to the job of his dreams: somewhere between a full-time photographer and a part-time influencer, traveling the world, capturing it on film, documenting his process and growth journey for others to be inspired by. ever so passionate and devoted to his work, mark poured his whole into perfecting his craft. and only when he emerged atop the hill he had climbed all by his lone self — without a degree and without the support of his peers and parents — did mark realize that he had lost the one person that would have supported him through anything. you.

but the damage had been done. at that point, there was no such word in the english dictionary that could remediate the month and a half of unexplained absence. in response to his silence and refusal to confide in you, you had withdrawn from the relationship yourself, having given up on getting him to clue you in and having to deal with your own problems as well.

it was too late for mark to say anything about it, far too late for any verbal apology to make up for it all. mark figured that his actions would speak louder than his words ever could.

at the height of summer, the sun couldn’t have shone brighter. it was that day where you had come to understand that mark’s place of refuge had never been the apartment you thought you’d both called home; it was the lake. the emerald lake would have a special feature in the photobook that mark would publish months after the two of you had broken up. in his captions, he’d write that it was there that he would turn to when his thoughts overwhelmed him, when he didn’t have it in himself to face the world.

and it was beautiful, in the most heartbreaking way, to see for yourself that in his most vulnerable state, he had turned to these waters and these winds. it was most beguiling, in the most earth-shattering way, to watch as he submerged himself bare in the water, to realize that he could never bare his heart to you, didn’t know how to, didn’t want to, didn’t care to.

he didn’t understand how badly you wanted to love him for everything that he was. he was too proud to let you see the worst parts of him, too proud to let you love the worst parts of him.

to him, the water was a symbol of renewal. to bring you here, where his heart lay, meant that he was opening back up to you, urging to you enter his waters. to you, it was a symbol of cleansing. to enter the water where you were beckoned meant washing off all the grief and bitterness that had accumulated towards the tail end of your relationship. you hadn’t yet figured out where you stood with him, if you still loved him, or if you even knew him well enough to say that you still loved him.

it was ill-fated timing, really. your mom was diagnosed with hodgkin’s lymphoma, not even a week after what mark believed to be the turning point of your relationship. you had called him from the hospital, voice thick with affliction, rambling about chemotherapy and medical bills and breaking the news to your sister and everything else that had brought your world to a standstill. and yet in the midst of all your despair, mark could not for the life of him string together a single sentence.

later revealed, her cancer was at an early stage, so one round of chemotherapy was enough to quell it into remission. it wasn’t, however, easy on your family in terms of the financial burnden and emotional turmoil that steadily built over her four months of treatment.

all of this, mark would only hear of through haechan, for your relationship had ended the moment you had hung up that call.

blocking his phone number and social medias was the easy part. the hard part was convincing haechan to let mark move in with him. it was completely and utterly stupid and unreasonable, according to him, to end a fully committed relationship just because the guy couldn’t formulate a response to your trauma dump. “why?”

“because he’s emotionally constipated,” was the easy answer with an easy counter that haechan was sure to give, “but you knew that even before dating him.”

you sighed. however impossible, you could hear his impatience over the phone. it was enough to get you to be fully honest with your best friend. “he can’t talk to me. he can’t be honest with me. he can’t look me in the face and say ‘i’m sorry.’ tell me, hyuck,” your breath picks up and you’re mere seconds away from sobbing, “tell me, how am i supposed to come home from the hospital everyday and tell my sob story to a fucking wall?!”

later that day, haechan came over to your apartment to pick up all the belongings of your ex-boyfriend. you had dumped him because your life was in no state to house someone who didn’t know how to shoulder a burden. you had dumped him because, for the sake of your well being, you could no longer put up with his inability to communicate openly with you, to tell you what he was feeling, to tell you to ease your worries, or even just to tell you that he loved you.

but even now as you’re sat in the passenger seat of his car, if mark told you he didn’t love you anymore, you probably wouldn’t believe it.

you know it in the way he looks at you, with eyes so tender and attentive to your every motion, ears perked at every intonation, and heart worn bare at the foot of his sleeve. these were all made fact from the moment you first stepped in his car, when the simple idea of seeing him still made you apprehensive and guarded.

but with how low your defenses have since dropped, there’s no reason left to deny that mark wouldn’t believe you either if you told him you didn’t love him anymore.

and you can’t say it’s any sort of impulsive feeling, or an effect of loneliness that’s gotten the best of you. it’s evident to you now that the mark beside you is not the same mark you fell in love with. he is a result of your breakup, the one thing that he could not bury away with the rest of his feelings. the one thing that, if he ever turned to the lake for refuge, would only haunt him in the form of the memory of you that day. he could not run from the torment of losing you, because it had consumed him whole.

the mark beside you gave you your space when you needed it, and held you close even when you didn’t know you needed it. he still is awkward in responding to your questions, but he responds nonetheless. he apologized.

he’s not the same mark you foolishly fell in love with, overlooking his weakness until it ruined your relationship. the mark beside you is someone you have the choice of falling in love with, in full admiration for his growth and strengths, so much so that it begs the question:

what do you do when the reason you broke up with your ex no longer exists?

「 DAY 03, 12:47 PM 」 — WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?

“thank you.”

mark jolts in his seat, though he keeps enough of his cool only to answer somewhat lamely, “uhh… for what?”

“for comforting me.”

mark doesn’t look over at you. he can’t. he’s afraid of what you have to say, of what’s to become of your fleeting friendship, of the boundaries he’d overstepped. so he merely brushes it off, hoping you don’t read too much into his actions to feel uncomfortable about it. “oh that? it was nothing, no need to thank me.”

but you look over at him, and continue to, for seconds or even minutes on end. the profile of his face is perfect to you, round eyes, the slope of his nose, an equally boyish and nervous smile playing at his lips. you could almost cry, again; this time at the irony of how your break up was so ill-fated by time, but your reunion so auspicious.

“it was not nothing to me. it was… everything.”

now he looks over at you with curious eyes, but you just shake your head slightly. “it just meant a lot to me. that’s all.”

mark returns his gaze up front. he’s still nervous, afraid, and ever so conscious of you, but at the very least, he’s glad that he seems to have successfully communicated his care for you. in silence, you’ve spent the last three hours switching between playing sudoku on your phone and annotating a red-covered book titled all about love by bell hooks with a pink pen.

until a few seconds ago, mark hadn’t had any insight whatsoever as to how you were feeling, whether you wanted more space to yourself, or if you wanted to just put it behind you and move on to cheerier conversations. and with bated breath has mark awaited some sort of sign that you were doing okay. now, as if given the green light, he sighs in relief and begins to speak, almost a little too eager to be able to strike conversation with you again.

“we’re almost halfway through texas now. well, the tip of it.”

the view just outside is completely flat for as far as the eye can perceive. blocked with only two colors, the vivid blue sky is completely void of any cloud, just as the dirt ground is void of any plant. seeing the landscapes change restlessly before your eyes over the past few days has felt like putting your life on double the speed, and the constant and unchanging blue and brown just outside feels like a welcome contrast. in all the flurry of this trip, you yearn for a moment to reorient yourself. and so you ask, “where are we staying tonight?”

“not sure yet, but if you want to you can look up some hotels in new mexico.”

you ponder the suggestion to yourself before suggesting an idea of your own, “how about we go camping? i saw your gear in the trunk.”

it’s gradual and awfully subtle, but you watch intently as the corners of mark’s lips upturn into a small smile. you even take note of how the sunlight from outside catches in his eyes, a small glint that gives his whole countenance a boyish radiance. he chuckles under his breath, simultaneously spotting a sign on the right side of the road. there’s almost a singing undertone in the way he says, “wanna take a break somewhere, grab some food, and plan something?”

you notice that the smile is still on his face as he sits across from you at a wendy’s in the middle of amarillo, thirty minutes later. in the same plaza there happened to be a taco bell and a denny’s, with an ihop and mcdonald’s across the street, inciting a fifteen minute heated debate as to which would make you less likely to vomit all over his car. in reality, there was no right answer. they were all wrong, but mark lee isn’t usually one to win arguments.

he has a few travel brochures splayed on top of the table, though he spends more of his attention typing into his phone and scribbling down notes on a yellow post-it. while he put himself in charge of finding a suitable camping spot somewhere in eastern new mexico, mark put you in charge of something you couldn’t mess up, and something you thought was too easy for the high paygrade of your company.

you did it begrudgingly and anyways, opening up the notes app on your phone, not all that happy to be left with the comparatively more boring job of coming up with a list of things to buy. with some on-the-go food options and a blanket on the list, you contemplated what kind of alcohol would most appropriately suit the occasion, looking up from your phone in time to catch mark as he did the same. briefly, your eyes met across the table.

he knows you both thought of the same thing. you must have.

he’s the only one who knows he didn’t actually need to study for any of his finals that semester, with most of them being projects and the only outlier being a general education psychology course. but mark was at the library every day and night with you, knowing you were scared shitless for your first week of finals as a college student. you were in two completely different majors, with no overlapping classes or even departments, and yet he was there, quizzing you on your human anatomy or art history notes. you’d get all in your head about the answers, rethinking and doubting yourself. and then you’d look up at him, eyes meeting across the table just the same as now, and you’d say the correct answer.

and there was that one time, in the complete silence of the top floor of the main library, where mark had slipped you a post-it note, eyes attentive and lips pulled into a line as he watched you read over his penned question. and as always, you had said the correct answer. i would love to go on a date with you.

just like back then, you smile at him brightly and fondly from across the table. mark looks taken aback for a second, either reeling or pleasantly surprised by thought of the memory. he takes a bite of his burger, chews a bit, then swallows roughly. you look back down at your screen and quickly type ‘soju’ before setting your phone down, figuring something stronger than beer would be able to get more truths out of you that wouldn’t escape so easily when sober. seeing as how this trip had you revealing more than you expected, even going as far as confiding your most vulnerable self to mark, you wish he would let go of some of his own thoughts as well.

mark sets his phone down too, as you rummage through your bag to find the red box you’d taken from the car. he watches as you set it on the table and after recognizing it, quips almost incredulously, “you still wanna play? after all that?”

“well i was thinking i could use a break from answering.”

“you want me to answer?” he quirks an eyebrow up, and you pass the set of cards over to him. barely shuffling, he draws a card at random and his eyebrows move again, this time to furrow as he skims the question. mark reads aloud, “how old do you feel, emotionally?”

it’s a question that you yourself can’t answer for him, even if you wished to. there’s no way for you to tell what kind of changes had occurred between then and now, but at the very least you know that he’s years wiser than the mark that once sat across from you at the library. and that thought alone pulls at your heart incessantly.

after giving the question some thought, mark answers in all the ways you least expect him to.

“i feel like i know nothing.”

and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further.

“what?”

mark laughs a bit. it’s evident that his thought was underdeveloped, and so he develops it some more, “i feel like a newborn baby, but like… really smart.” he continues to make no sense, so you laugh at him. and then you’re both laughing. it’s sweet, really.

he had spent so long in that library with you, dutifully studying for what would be the easiest final exam of his life. mark reread his psychology notes so many times that week that they would be forever ingrained in his mind. but to you, the next thoughts he shares are completely out of the blue.

“you know like crystallized and fluid intelligence?” he pauses to laugh some more at the quizzical look you’ve thrown him. “like crystallized is like accumulated knowledge and stuff like facts, while fluid intelligence is like problem-solving and reasoning or something.”

now he really needs you to stop laughing because it’s infectious. “and what does that have to do with anything?” your laughter is especially infectious to him, because he really can’t bring himself to stop laughing despite the point he so desperately wants to make.

“just let me finish my thought, okay? and then you can laugh all you want.”

at that, you stifle your laughter by pressing your lips together, and all mark can think of is how cute you are. he pushes past that thought and does his best to sound like he’s not stupid.

“i mean like, i feel like i have a bunch of crystallized intelligence from being in the world for so long, but at the same time i have zero fluid intelligence. like i’m a newborn baby with all the knowledge in the world, and no idea what to do with it.”

and you catch on immediately, “so basically like… adulting? like facing the real world after being coddled your entire life?”

mark isn’t laughing anymore nor was anything he said that stupid, but he has this stupid dopey smile on his face. because if there’s one person that can comprehend his thoughts so completely and so easily, even as he uses the most unorthodox methods to explain them, it’s you. always you. only you.

and just like that you understood it all. the months he spent in solitude after dropping out of college weren’t spent alone, they were spent facing the real world. you had always been so bitter that he would rather endure those rough moments by himself than shoulder his worries with you, but you understand it now. and he didn’t even need to say much at all. mark had needed space to figure out himself, for himself. he needed to unlearn everything that people and society had told him about who he was, what he was good at, bad at, should or shouldn’t do, and for once, spend time to get to know himself. after all, how was he supposed to be in a relationship with you if he didn’t even have an idea of who he was?

sitting across from him now, you can see in full how mark’s grown into himself, his passions, and his work. he’s facing the world still, and will always be, but he is confident instead of prideful. he isn’t ashamed of what he doesn’t know, for he will learn in due time. he isn’t afraid of failure, because he knows he’ll only grow from it.

it’s astonishing how these past few days have brought everything into a full circle. in hindsight, the messy break up was really just what the situation called for. and this impromptu reunion turned out to be a miracle of timing, to the degree at which the both of you can’t help but think…

right person, right time.

「 DAY 03, 10:12 PM 」 — MY DREAMS COME TRUE (WHEN I’M WITH YOU)

you found it strange, but didn’t think too much of it.

it was like there was some foggy haze over everything, like a honeyed film that made your world a little sweeter, softer, and more precious. you had spent almost a full two years juggling your classes, extracurriculars, and family and relationship issues, flitting between school and home and the hospital and then repeating it all over and over until you couldn’t even trace when you’d gone a bit insane. to you, it was something between a secret orchestration of the universe and an answered prayer to find yourself out here, surrounded by cicadas and under the scorching sun.

to him, it was everything he could have asked for, and more.

sumner lake state park had his favorite hues of greens, blues, and browns. and you were grateful, for mark frequently paused your impromptu hiking trip to shoot on his camera, leaving you moments to catch a breath and take in the views along the lakeshore.

the sun had set at half past eight. that was almost two hours ago, and two hours after the two of you had luckily scored a spot at the eastside campground. whoever made the original reservation would forever have no clue as to what they helped achieve by simply not showing up.

it was like a dream, except you were awake. it was like a movie, except you were the star. it was like a book, except it wasn’t all about love. it was all about mark lee.

he has one hand holding his mug and the other on your thigh. again, there’s the glint in his eyes, this time sourced from the small campfire he’s made. the summer night is hot enough, but mark had insisted. “for the ambiance,” he’d said, “for the memories.”

this is how the memory will go. for whenever you think back to this moment, you will always remember the glow of the fire reflected in his eyes, the buzz of cicadas, the sound of the lapping lake, and his hand on your thigh.

you take a swig of your soju, face scrunching at the initially bitter taste. setting your mug down, you lean back on the palms of your hands and look up towards the sky. it reminds you of the color pencil set you used to use as a kid, the black you’d always confuse for a dark navy and the dark navy you’d always confuse for the black. and dotted with a white color pencil were the stars, shining one by one, all too similar to the light in his eyes.

the water of the lake reminds you of him. the leaves of trees he’d dedicated countless rolls of film to reminds you of him. the singing of birds, as soft as his mindless humming, reminds you of him. the sweetness left by the soju in your mouth reminds you of him.

maybe the world felt a little lighter on your shoulders when you were with him, and everything seemed a little brighter because of his bright eyes and carefree smile. he makes you feel like you’re a kid whose imaginative color pencil drawings of her dreams spin off the paper and turn into reality. like a kid who, in her heart, only has space for hope for the future.

and you think, that must be what it means to love someone. to see everything in a different light, to see only the best of situations, of people, of the world around you. and ultimately, to love the world, everybody in it, every thing ever created, because you love him.

and so when he draws the next card, it’s the most ridiculous question ever.

“how did you get over your first love?”

you laugh a little, then gulp down the rest of the soju in your mug. wincing at the taste, you decide that it would do no harm whatsoever to be a little more honest with mark. compared to the first day you stepped in his car, back into his life, you now have a very good idea of how mark had changed, how he knew how to handle your feelings with care this time around. it’s a newfound trust, and you plan on exercising it.

looking him straight in the eye, you cock your head a bit to the left as if considering the thing you already knew you were to say. “i don’t think i’ve ever gotten over you.”

mark has no reaction. he just stares at you for longer and longer, until you tilt your head to the other side and he seems to remember that time hasn’t stopped for him. suddenly he’s also downing the rest of his soju, throwing his head back and gulping it down thickly.

truth be told, he used to be intimidated by the honesty with which you always spoke, but he thinks he gets it now. whether it be with other people or with himself, mark feared that the truth about his feelings, his pridefulness, or the nature of his insecurities weakened him. but at the end of the day, what good has avoiding the truth done for him? it was through losing the most sincere person in his life that he realized being forthright and overcoming the fear, the uncomfortableness, and sometimes the displeasure of being honest, made him all the stronger.

and it’s with these thoughts that mark is able to muster up the courage to regain your gaze with all the softness in the world. maybe it had a little to do with the alcohol in his system, but the words seem to slip right out of him. “i don’t think i’ve ever gotten over you either.”

you hold your gaze for only a few moments longer, for shortly after processing his words you break out into a grin so wide, mark can’t help but think the alcohol’s gotten to you too. and then you’re laughing a bit — whether out of relief or bewilderment, he can’t tell — but he’s glad. mark is glad to hear your honest answer, glad to give an honest answer back. he watches as you fully recline on the air mattress in the trunk of his car, looking onwards adoringly. there’s really no way to tell if he’s feeling this giddy because he’s drunk or because for the first time, there is no need to suppress his feelings for you. mark suspects it’s both, at the same time, in full effect.

he grabs another card, reads it for all of two seconds. mark leans over to where you’re peering up at him and, smiling fondly, he tells you to, “close your eyes for a sec.” you think of the campfire, the cicadas, and the lake, but when you recall this night in memory, this exact moment is what you remember most vividly.

it was bound to happen. you just didn’t know it’d happen like this.

the air mattress isn’t uncomfortable, per se; it’s just that it feels hot against your skin. chills run down the length of your spine, but it isn’t the doing of the wind from the half-open windows. it’s mark lee and his lips on yours. his hand comes up to your arm feverishly, barely grazing it, and more chills ripple from wherever the rings on his fingers ghost your skin.

mark stops for a moment. takes a breath. looks back up and peers into your eyes. he kisses you again.

you don’t know what to do except kiss him back. he has both hands on you now, the one on your arm and the other one on your neck. and he keeps kissing you, lips molding to yours with slips of his tongue here and there, gentle and prodding. he’s scared. for what exactly? he doesn’t know. maybe for his life.

his life, that you seem to be holding in your hands, the same hands that are now making their way around his waist. mark can’t breathe. the skin at the back of your neck is warm and soft to the touch, but he already knew that. he’s known it for so long. everything about you is familiar to him like a well-worn book or the lines of his favorite song. the sound of your voice is so low when the briefest of groans escapes you, but to mark it’s almost predictable. this is the you that he knows, the you that he couldn’t forget, the you that he lost.

mark can’t breathe, and so he stops kissing you. he mumbles an embarrassed, “i’m sorry.” he buries his head into your shoulder. he thinks he loves you. he knows he does.

but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud.

out of fear, he can’t tell you he loves you. it’s not the same fear that held him back from sharing any vulnerable side of himself with you, but instead the fear of losing you. even as you admit your lingering feelings and kiss him back like you’d never stopped, mark is filled with the fear of how overbearing he’d be if he fully leaned into his desire for you. he can imagine himself, in this same moment but in a million different universes, and in each one he messes up.

in one, he moves too fast by saying the words but he’s got the timing all wrong, and all of a sudden his feelings are a burden to you whose own feelings lack the depth of his. in another, he never says them at all, and this night marks the last of any intimacy he’ll receive for the rest of his life. in all of these universes, he knows why he kissed you, but he doesn’t know what you meant when you kissed him back. in all these universes, he wants, more than anything, to do right by you.

“sorry for what?”

mark lifts his head up to look you in the eye, and when he still fails to say a word, you tease him a bit to lighten the suddenly dour look on his face. “for kissing me? really?”

to your delight, he chuckles at that and shakes his head lightly.

you can tell he has a lot on his mind, but his neck and ears are flushed red and you don’t mean to use his inebriation to pry the words out of him. you pat the empty side of the bed, “lay down, we should get some sleep.”

slowly and cautiously, he moves to the spot next to you. laying down flat on his back and staring at the darkened ceiling of his car, mark wonders if this is the universe where nothing happens at all and he misses his chance completely. he sinks into this feeling and almost lets it consume him whole when he realizes he’s the only person who has the ability to change that.

the blanket the you bought earlier in the day has been discarded by your feet, the summer heat imanent even in the dead of night. you don’t know how to process what just happened, and you don’t get a chance to. a warmth is felt along your side before you realize mark’s arms have found their way around your waist, bringing you closer to him. he nuzzles his face into the sleeve of your shirt, eyes closed and humming in satisfaction.

his voice is barely discernible when he mumbles, “i’m sorry if that caught you by surprise.”

the sound of cicadas chirping just outside fills the space between his apology and your forgiveness. “it’s okay. i didn’t mind it.”

mark shifts his position a little. he places a small kiss at the base of your neck. “do you mind this, then?”

though his eyelids remain heavy and all his words are slurred together, he’s more alert than he has been all day. he doesn’t hear your small laugh so much as he feels it pulse against him, and it fills him with much joy. perhaps this has been his superpower all along, changing his universe in small and big ways, however he desires. perhaps, as long as he is true to himself and honest with his feelings, he will always find a way to have you close by his side, feeling every rise and fall of your breath.

that night, in the brief moments before sleep overcomes him mark decides that he will create a universe where you are his, happily, rightfully, and fatefully.

「 DAY 05, 1:44 AM 」 — JUST TELL ME YOU LOVE ME

number three on mark’s bucket list — the one he made in his sophomore year of college — is to one day visit the svalbard islands. located in the arctic circle, the northernmost town in the world, called longyearbyen, goes about half a year without sunlight during its dark season. it is there that mark wishes to undergo the challenge of photographing in almost complete darkness, something he’s never quite been able to catch the hang of.

number four on his bucket list is to start a company that produces camera gear for his own needs, and for the needs of the many people he’s inspired with his work. number five on his bucket list is to buy an old ass subaru manual transmission wrx and fix it up until it’s perfectly to his liking.

out of all these ambitions listed on his bucket list that mark had told you about way back then – the previously mentioned visiting of all the national parks and forests, shooting in svalbard, starting a camera gear company, and owning a wrx — he’d neglected to tell you what tops his list at number one.

after two years, his bucket list remains unchanged, even the mystery number one: to complete everything on his list with you.

when you had asked a few days prior why mark hadn’t bothered moving out of nyc as it no longer served his needs, he had said you were the one reason he couldn’t part with the city. it had made you frustrated as to why he kept you in the equation even after your relationship came to a close, but more so confused as to why he still held you to such importance.

you had spent the many months after the break up working hard at keeping your life together, removing all emotions, situations, and people that stood in the way of your priorities at the time, which were school and family. while that still holds true for you, mark’s priorities hadn’t changed either; you have continued to be a priority of his to this very day. and only now, when he’s right in front of you, do you realize this.

maybe it had been your insistence on moving on from him that you believed all his actions were nothing more than displays of his latent guilt. he’d send boxes of protein drinks to your front door, salves and balms for cracked skin, and woven hats for your mom who was undergoing chemotherapy at the time. and for you, there’d be the occasional uber eats ramen or chicken noodle soup that would arrive at your doorfront unprompted, and especially right at the times when you were up studying all night.

under suspicion, you had stopped complaining to haechan whenever you were feeling particularly tired or hungry, and the late night meals that were sent to your house lowered in frequency, and weren’t as punctual to your needs. mark wasn’t outright with anything, never showed up himself, or contacted you personally, but he wasn’t exactly discreet either.

only you, haechan, and mark knew your door code, for you hadn’t bothered to changed it after he moved out as there was no apparent need to. after the lightbulb in your kitchen went out and you had asked haechan a favor to buy you one at the nearest hardware store, you came home later that day to find it already fixed. knowing haechan was also busy with school and wouldn’t go to such lengths without further bribing, you had surmised it was mark and decided to put it to the test. the next time when your shower faucet started leaking, you mentioned it in passing to haechan and before the end of the week, it was good as new.

could it have counted as breaking and entering? that’s debateable. but you were aware of it and yet did nothing about it, rendering it legal at the very least. back then, you had given the vitamin supplements he had sent to your house to your mom, eaten every meal he bought you, and accepted all his covert services without a second thought, because you were firm in your belief that any form apology sent your way was useless in repairing the relationship you had put to a stop. you might as well accept it, move on, and wait until the day mark was no longer ridden with guilt, and no longer felt the need to perform such acts out as a result.

that day never came, and it’s evident to you in retrospect that he did nothing out of guilt, but everything out of care, for your health, your well-being, and safety. his care, simply, for you.

it’s evident to you in the way mark exceled in his role as the passenger princess the entire day. after he lost another argument to you, you finally found yourself behind the wheel which, somehow, felt like the safest seat in his car. he fed you snacks, kept you entertained, put on all your favorite songs, and navigated the both of you safely to the white sands national park in new mexico.

mark kept an extra pair of sunglasses in the central console of his car. mark also had facial oil blotting papers in the glove box. in the trunk, there was an extra pair of sandals in your size, and a set of two fold-out camping chairs. the way he never stopped caring, it was as if you never broke up with him.

there is no city in the world that mark would rather live in, if you are not there. there is no national park he would ever visit, if you are not with him. he would freeze to death in the northernmost city in the world, without your warmth beside him. he would run his company to the ground without your input, and his favorite wrx becomes just another car without you in the passenger seat. all his life goals lose their meaning in your absence. this is how it’s always been for mark. this is why you are a priority to him.

even with his sunglasses on, the white sands were exceptionally bright. for the duration of 45 minutes, mark had guided you along the dunes drive, a scenic eight mile drive through the famed gypsum dunefield. the road conditions were harsher the farther you went along, and so he instructed you into the nearest parking lot, and swapped seats with you before going on. mark held your hand while driving, and he also squeezed it whenever he inevitably hit a bump here and there, as if in apology, as if it was his fault.

mark had kissed you again, with nothing but the white sands and blue skies in the backdrop. he’d taken pictures of you, using up his most expensive film stock on your priceless smile. he’d paid for the motel too, knowing you hadn’t initially wished for the trip to be more than three days, but wanting you to stay for yet another.

all of this has you wondering if you have it in you to care for him the way he cares for you.

you wonder how much importance he holds to you, how much of your heart you’d be willing to give to him, where your love for him would take you if you set it free.

as it turns out, your unanswered questions would be answered in the wee hours of the following morning. this is after mark had driven another six hours to ensure you would be able to make it to los angeles by the day after that to help with last minute preparations for your sister’s wedding.

you are in miami, a city in which — up until the last hour of your life — you had no idea existed outside of florida. you are in arizona, a state in which you would never have had a reason for visiting, if not for mark lee.

you are in a room, at the two-star rated el rey motel. and now you are in the bathroom, dimly lit by the dispersed light of a plastic water bottle placed atop your phone flashlight. you are in the bathtub, and though the water’s no longer hot, the temperature maintains its warmth from the heat emanating off your body. alongside mark lee’s.

it’s a forced darkness; the single lightbulb was out, and the early hour meant the motel staff had already retired for the night. with only one weak light source, the darkness of the room sets a tension so high that both of you are afraid to speak, much less move. but you put it upon yourself to break the tension, as it was your idea in the first place. bathing together.

the silence and the darkness combined makes it so every movement and every breath is unmistakeable and pronounced. the same applies to the sound of your voice when you start to speak, “thank you.”

all of a sudden, mark repositions himself. you can barely see it, but you hear the water sloshing and you feel it move about you. he’s sat across the tub, and you find it fascinating that even without light, his eyes still manage to shine. looking into them, you resume, “thank for everything you did, after we broke up.”

you can hear him swallow. the more you talk, the more you feel the tears pricking at your eyes, your emotions rising as you continue to speak, “and thank you driving me across the country, and for always being considerate, and for apologizing, and for…” your voice lowers to a bare whisper, “...everything. for everything you have ever done for me.”

“you don’t… you don’t have to thank me for anything.”

whereas your tears are at the precipice of falling, you notice that mark has begun crying. they’re silent, the way his tears roll down his left cheek. the water around you shifts, ebbs and flows, as you move closer to him and reach a useless wet hand to wipe his tears. you keep your hand on his cheek. and again, mark finds that he can hardly breathe, “i did it all… i did all of it, because i…”

mark breathes a sharp inhale, the air struggling to squeeze past the three words that remain lodged in his throat. he’s twenty-four now, and he’s still scared of the dark. but by no means is he scared of the monsters under his bed. without light, a camera has to resort to longer exposure times to piece together a full picture. without light, the human eye has to dilate to capture more of what is right in front of it. if his exposure is set too low and if his eyes fail to dilate, all that will remain will be a blurry image, uncertainty as to what was, nothing when there was actually everything.

here in this bathroom, where there is nothing but you and him and a million unsaid truths, mark finds that he is terrified of losing what’s right in front of him to the darkness. again, he is most fearful of losing you.

both of your hands now cup his cheeks, bringing his face in line with your own. he has his arms around you, and you can feel his fingers pruning on the skin of your waist. you think you have an idea of what he’s about to say, was about to say, but you’re scared he won’t say it. with nothing but a thin veil of air between your noses, you decided to help him overcome his fears.

“i think we feel the same way about each other.” please say it to me.

mark blinks, breaks the stare, looks away, upwards, to the side, “we can’t possibly feel the same…”

he sounds almost exasperated, in the most diminished sense, but you push again, “even then, i don’t mind,” just tell me you love me.

“we can’t possibly feel the same…” mark returns your gaze again, and you watch as his pupils dilate, “because there’s no way you love me as much as i love you.”

the veil of air between your two noses lifts as you lean in for a kiss. a small one. one that says, i will always love you.

of all the things water could symbolize, the water in this bathtub surrounding the two of you represents life, the life that was breathed back into your relationship. this is owed to truth, which is a funny thing for it often hides in plain sight. a year ago at the lake, where the sun had touched every surface on the face of the earth, it had not bothered to dig deeper than that. it is only in the darkness that the truth has nowhere to hide. and if mark had been fearful of the dark moments ago, it is for this reason that he isn’t anymore.

「 DAY 06, 1:18 PM 」 — LIKE WE JUST MET

the trunk of his beloved subaru crosstrek slams shut from behind. mark winces. the car door of the passenger seat slams shut shortly after. mark winces once again, and complains rather brashly, “can you not do that every time you get in my car?”

“you’re late. we’re late. can we just get going already?”

mark huffs, turning his attention to the front because the both of you are at fault. you, for not treating his baby with love and care. and him, for picking you up almost twenty minutes after he was supposed to. the wedding venue was an hour away including traffic, and now mark had only forty minutes to not jeopardize the state of his new old relationship.

he’s all but broken your neck by the time you arrive — only five minutes late — after accelerating and braking as aggressively as was necessary to get you to your destination.

while you collect your belongings, mark exits the car, straightens out his tux, and makes his way over to your side of the car, pulling the door open for you. you meet him with a glare while clambering out the car, “you’re lucky nothing’s started yet.”

with you as the maid of honor and with him as just your plus one, he spends most of the time idling around and mingling with acquaintances he hasn’t seen in ages, whilst you headed to the suites of the beachside resort to help your sister get ready. mark is shocked, more than he has been in the past week, to find out that you hadn’t told a single relative that you’d broken up with him in the first place. still, he plays his role as “boyfriend for almost three years” quite well.

throughout the rest of the day, mark notices a few things.

1) you like the venue, a lot. a summer wedding on the beach, with pastels and flowers and the wind in everyone’s hair. and since you’d commented on these things more than once, mark made sure to commit it to memory for future reference.

2) your sister made a face at you before turning around and throwing the bouquet, which you caught. did everyone think he was supposed to propose right then and there? he doesn’t know, but something about the way your sister had regarded him the whole night makes him nervous. as in the “meeting the in-laws” kind of nervous.

3) lastly, you were more beautiful that you were yesterday. but also, yesterday you were more beautiful than you were the day before. mark had recognized this ongoing phenomena ever since you’d stepped in his car, and it doesn’t seem like there’s a cap to his admiration for you. at this point, it’s like he’s just waiting for any day now where it gets out of hand and he does propose.

it’s on the dance floor where this last point becomes very apparent to him. you’re laughing at everything he’s saying, eyes beaming up at him as he sways you this way and that. when he leans down to plant a kiss to your forehead, mark swears the smile you give in return could save lives with just how radiant it is. he feels a bit silly, like he’s gone a little crazy, but mark knows that the next wedding he’s going to will be his.

and it’s as if your minds communicated on a frequency that only the other could hear, as just the next moment you whisper in his ear.

“us next?”

✧ author's life update — honestly who knew i would get back into writing ff... basically i graduated from high school, got into a few t20 colleges, lost a parent to cancer, gained a parent, lost two best friends, broke up with my long term boyfriend, got my license, turned legal, AND saw the dreamies in concert. so if anyone's wondering why i left.... i'm just glad to say i'm so bored that i'm back. and yes this fic is mostly a self-indulgent account of what i wish my relationship and family life turned out to be but the moral of this story really is: if you're emotionally unstable, seek professional help before relying too much on your s/o. unless they are, of course, mark lee.

sources wnrs card game wnrs free deck (shhh) upmc pinnacle colon and rectal surgery center brockhampton saturation ii track 16 one star relax inn review little crazy love song alley spring mill the flea holiday inn at ok my fav tea that got me thru this wendy’s in amarillo sumner lake state park svalbard wikipedia things to do at white sands national park new mexico el rey motel

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