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infinitum-imaginaerum · 3 years

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Graffiti | Jaehyun | 06

BadboyTagger!Jaehyun | Series Words | 6,400+ Warnings | Language, Mature themes, Blood, Violence

05 | 06 | 07

A strained groan fell from his throat as he stirred, stretching his stiffened back muscles from a rock-like sleep—the first one he’d had in as long as he could remember. No sleeping with one eye open, no fears lingering in the back of his mind, no waking up a hundred times in the midst of his sleep; just solid, motionless, deep rest. The blinds were cracked just enough that the natural sunlight was illuminating a majority of your living room, but it was a soothing blocked light that didn’t hurt his desensitized eyes.

It took a moment for him to pick up on the wafting coffee scent that filled your apartment and he wondered if you had a coffee pot set on a timer or if he had actually slept through you getting up and rummaging around in next to silence. You could have harmed him, if you wanted, a thought that quickly crossed his mind as he considered checking if you were up. Maybe it was best to clear that thought, first, even if he had spent so much time watching his back. The fact of the matter was that you didn’t.

He stretched a bit more before picking himself up from your pull-out, intending to greet you for a cup of coffee before returning to sit for a bit on the comfort of it. He lifted his arms high above his head to stretch a little bit more before plucking his jeans off the floor to slip them on and then wandered around the end-table to the kitchen, but you were nowhere to be found. The pot of coffee was eyeing him—it looked like there was already a cup or so taken out of it, so he quietly looked through the cabinets before coming across a mug to pour himself a cup, hoping it was for him too.

Your name fell from his mouth a couple of times as he muttered it into the air—if you had gone back to sleep, he didn’t want to bother you. And he assumed that’s where you were at when there was no reply; he wasn’t about to check your room or go lurking around your place. So he turned back to the counter just to stand there and process some thoughts, especially when he reached up to touch the tender and still somewhat bruised flesh around his eye.

Meanwhile, you had tiptoed out of your room having just finished toweling your hair after a shower, noticing that he wasn’t where you left him. He stood somewhat slumped over the counter in front of the coffee pot, lifting his mug to take a sip now and again. It was hard not to notice the line of his shoulders, the way they tapered into his neck, but most importantly, it was hard not to notice the silver lines that sunk into the back of his black tank-top. Your feet were silent across the kitchen floor, hands tentative as they reached around his middle. He startled, almost slamming the mug down on the counter as he captured one of your hands just as you’d laid your head against his back.

“It’s just me,” you cooed gently.

“You startled me,” he replied lowly, attempting to look over his shoulder, but you were so deep in his back it was not possible to see you. He slowly let go of your hand, letting it join your other to wrap around his middle so you could relish his warmth. The stiffness slowly faded as he acclimated to your grasp, hands against the cool countertop as he slumped back over just a tad. “You were awfully quiet, creeping around this morning,” he said, mildly disturbed that it was the case, that he slept through the sink running and anything else you did in there, like rummaging in the cabinets.

“You were sleeping, and it seemed like well; I didn’t want to disturb you,” you replied, not finding his particular wording curious in the slightest. You left one of your arms reeled around his middle, but the other tugged back to touch against a particularly rough looking scar against the back of his right arm that disappeared deep into the cut of his tank top. You could feel him seize up under your touch; surely he had detailed inventory of what and where his scars were. He stood tall to move, so you gave him some space to abandon his coffee on the counter as he turned around in front of you to lean somewhat against it. Unable to help the way your gaze flickered across him, you stood with your arms at your sides and let your eyes go, observing the collar of his tank, the line of his shoulders that not only looked strong, not only felt strong, but were so, and the way they tapered into his neck, the sharpness of his jawline, the hard line of his mouth that sat relaxed.

He looked you over similarly, but more noting the bruise against your cheek which was far less bad than he anticipated, but also noticed some additional bruising at your neck. Tentatively, he reached up to touch against your bruised cheek, catching you flinch a bit before his thumb brushed against it. A somewhat exasperated sigh pushed from his nose as he looked at you, feeling the guilt about your injuries, although he still stood by the fact that you shouldn’t be leaving so late knowing the risks.

His hand dropped immediately as your eyes cast over to it—his bandaged left hand which no longer had a rough gauze strapped around it, but instead just had that large bandaid over the back of it. Even still, he didn’t want you to see. He could hide that a lot better than the cut against his cheek.

Almost pathetic is the way he would describe the way you looked up at him. Your arms dangled at your sides as you scrutinized that cut, the fading black eye, the weathered look of his face—he looked aged in an interesting type of way, just like he’d seen and been through a lot now that you were seeing him in good light. He held his mouth in a hard line, his features stark. For a moment, his lips curled in so he could moisten them, feeling nervous under your gaze.

“What a mess we both are,” you finally said, breaking the awkward silence, but you couldn’t say that those particular words made it less awkward. But the awkwardness seemed to be the least of Jaehyun’s worries, at least, as you stepped between his bare feet, your hands gingerly touching against his abdomen to lean up and nuzzle the bridge of your nose against his jaw. For some reason, it had his breath hitching, had his expressive eyebrows raise in somewhat surprise. One of his hands finessed yours into it, the other captured your hip to give him some semblance of control.

He choked out your name hesitantly, almost warningly. You pulled far enough away to look up at him, to watch him try to stave off a shy smile which tugged the cut of his dimples in a light you could finally see them. A smile broke on your own face in response.

“The big bad wolf has dimples,” you stated, resulting in him immediately covering as much of his face as he could with the hand that was on your hip; it proved sufficient.

“I figured you noticed before and just didn’t say anything,” he answered, trying really hard to put his grin away, but yours was infectious, and he found himself smiling even harder. “Please don’t say they’re charming, or whatever girls say about dimples on a boy; it’s embarrassing.”

“Jaehyun,” you protested, rolling your eyes while your hand furled in his shirt, the other in his hand.

“Don’t,” he pleaded, giving your hand a squeeze while his other finally removed itself from his face to step you back from him. “I’m running away,” he said, turning to grab his mug of coffee and agilely stepped past you to head back to the living room.

Jaehyun sat cross-legged on the pull-out couch atop the covers when you joined him. He watched you curiously as you finessed your way onto it with him, sitting far enough away, perhaps not close enough. His phone vibrated against the couch-side table, and you watched as he rolled his eyes again, having noted the time on the coffee pot to indicate that it was already later than he thought—later than he promised he’d be back. But somewhere in there, as he looked at you in a set of baggy clothes with damp hair sipping some coffee across from him on the pull-out couch in your living room where he’d previously slept…it didn’t seem to matter.

Especially not as he reached out to take one of your hands, a repressed ache for your touch finding the surface of his desires as he tugged it up to his soft lips to press a gentle kiss into your fingers. Every time he did so, he peered at you from under his lashes with the somewhat downward tilt of his head. It hooded his eyes a little bit more, and it sent a shiver to your very soul when he looked at you like that.

His phone began vibrating again, and this time you encouraged him not to ignore it. Instead of letting go of your hand like you assumed he would, he swapped his coffee with his phone and swiped to answer Taeyong’s incessant calling.

“I know, I’m late,” he said, instead of saying hello. “I accidentally slept in, I’m just having one cup of coffee—”

“You slept?” Taeyong asked. He wasn’t mad about it, in fact far from it. He knew Jaehyun had problems sleeping ever since knowing him. So the fact that he was able to sleep, in a shelter that wasn’t even his own may have been slightly alarming. “I was just getting concerned considering your location and the issues surrounding it in reference to the time. You said you’d be back early, but you’re your own person,” he added, which kind of took Jaehyun aback.

Taeyong was typically a lot stricter, and he’d been a little cryptic about this situation with you. Jaehyun knew he had good intentions, just trying to look out for his friends, especially him, lurking in neighborhoods that were extremely dangerous.

“I won’t say take your time, but no need to rush; wake up, be alert, be safe,” Taeyong said.

Jaehyun nodded, following it with a hum. Still, his fingers were playing with yours, stealing glances at your face while you busied yourself looking down at them. His hands were even a bit scarred up, but they felt so soft in yours somehow. His fingers were nimble, slender; his touches calculated, gentle, precise. A few more soft words left Jaehyun’s lips, words you didn’t hear but it didn’t seem to make a difference anyway. He discarded his phone on the end table once more, and suddenly your hand was eclipsed by his other one.

Your gaze rose to his face, noticing the sweet half-smile he afforded you while also trying to get a glimpse into your thoughts. The way he could already tell when you were thinking was astounding; maybe it came with needing to be so observant of everyone all the time, or maybe the chemistry between you was too real.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked you, as if he was able to read your thoughts about him reading your thoughts.

You gently shook your head. There wasn’t really much to tell him, and honestly you wouldn’t dare ask about the small conversation with Taeyong because it was quite frankly none of your business. His hands gave yours a squeeze before he reached for his coffee again to take another sip. He would need that slight edge of alertness to get him to the correct side of town for him, but he didn’t want to worry you with that, instead he occupied you with something else.

“I want to take you on an actual date,” he said abruptly, not really giving himself a moment to think twice about it. It had been something that stewed in his mind since last night. If he was going to continue this path with you, he might as well try to bring some normalcy to your budding relationship.

“Oh?” you replied delicately. You could already tell the being out was a somewhat difficult time for Jaehyun, for reasons you’d yet to unfold to your knowledge, so you found the statement rather bold but maybe he had a plan already.

“It’s already been such hell with me; I just want to treat you to something normal,” he explained, his voice low, soft, almost inaudible as his fingers continued to play with yours, his gaze cast down to them—he was somewhat afraid of even looking at your face.

You smiled a bit as you looked at him, watched the way his fringe curtained over his face a bit. “Rest assured when I say that I’ve been through my fair share of uneasy stuff,” you said. Maybe now wasn’t the time for explanation, you knew he had to be getting on his way and it was a big step; it would be a conversation for another time, there was plenty the both of you needed to tell each other about yourselves and about the situation. “Besides,” you added, trying to diffuse the reel of thoughts in his head, “it’s not been so bad, you always do your best to take care of me anyway.”

“You keep saying these ridiculous things and giving me credit I think is undeserved,” he reminded you.

“You are so stubborn, you know,” you fired back with a roll of your eyes as you took another sip of your coffee.

“I just know the truth,” he replied, not intending on letting you win this one. But you gave him a look, and it almost had him reeling back as you made your way to your knees, slowly walking yourself across the cool comforter to close the distance between the two of you to set your mug on the table next to his and for a moment, he thought he was safe.

“You know a pre-conceived truth,” you reminded him.

He almost couldn’t respond, tongue swollen against his throat as he looked at you, high on your knees in front of him donning an oversized tee that covered your shorts hanging mid-thigh with your hair a tousled wet mess that mangled his insides. He looked up to your cocky and expectant gaze, waiting for him to say something you would inevitably shoot down with your facts, while his hands furled into the comforter.

“I just know what I’ve always known, that I don’t bring anything good with me,” he finally answered, though that was barely audible as well.

“You listen here,” you said in a strict tone, punctuating it with a gentle smile as you took two handfuls of his tank top to drag him nearer to you. “I’ll tell you a million times if I have to, you have defended and protected me on a handful of occasions and even that doesn’t absolve you of other things you may have done, that’s all you’ve done to me and is therefore all I can judge fairly.”

In that, you had a point. But to Jaehyun, it didn’t work that way. He opened his mouth to reply.

“You just won’t stop,” you said before he could even say anything, pushing both of your closed fists against his chest to push him as far onto his back as the pillows underneath him would allow, which wasn’t too far, but it changed the look on his face. “Even when your resolve is weak and you answer weakly.”

Jaehyun was too occupied controlling the fall of your hips, holding you somewhat over his still crossed legs that you were stretched across. Even if he wasn’t occupied with that, he didn’t have a good reply, so it wouldn’t have made a difference, especially not when you leaned over to place a soft kiss against his cheek, then against his jaw, and then against his neck to elicit a deep inhale, his chest expanding against your clenched hands.

The feel of your tender kisses against his neck wiped all thoughts he had on the matter away in an instant. His eyes fluttered closed in a matter of a second. Maybe he was starved for affection because of the hole he’d dug and kept himself in, and maybe that was his whole infatuation with you, but surely it was more than that. He cared immensely for your well-being, so it was already deeper than superficial especially when that was his primary concern.

“Duchess…” he pleaded. He still needed to get back relatively quickly, his mug of coffee nearing gone that could not be forgotten about. “I still need to get back relatively—”

He hummed into your delicate kiss, collecting his protesting lips against your own in the way you wish he had done last night before heading off to bed. His grip tightened against your hips, leaning up into your kiss only for you to pull away far too soon. While his eyes remained closed for a moment, his teeth ground together—he was stuck between a rock in a hard place having just complained about having to go but also wanting to complain about the transitory nature of that kiss.

Against his better judgment, probably, he turned you both over to put you onto your back, casting himself off to the side of your hips so he could hover over you, the curtain of his fringe tickling your forehead, he was already so close. He looked at you intensely while you met him with a half-smile, your eyes already half-lidded as you looked up at him, a little too alluringly. Delicately, he stroked against your bruised cheek, leaning down to kiss it as lightly as a feather.

“You’re mean to me,” he joked.

“I thought you just said you wanted to take me on a proper date,” you replied with a giggle.

“I don’t think those things are mutually exclusive,” he responded, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours, feeding that affection-craving fire in the pit of his stomach. Was it affection-craving or was it you-craving?

“Sometimes I don’t know how to ask for things properly when I want them, so I come back later and just take it myself,” you said, alluding to the situation from last night when he had chosen to let you go to bed with just a chaste kiss against your knuckles.

“Hmm…” he voiced and leaned over a bit further, dodging your face to sink into the crook of your neck. His lips were a little cold against your skin, placing calculated pecks against your neck that had you trying to shrug him out of it. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the way the goosebumps pushed at the surface of your skin, the way a shiver ripped down your spine that had your eyes falling closed, the way you relished those tender kisses as he kissed up to the curve of your jaw until he was close enough to whisper in your ear. “I think you just want to get me in trouble.”

You hadn’t noticed the way one of your hands had furled in the front of his tank, or the way you were tugging on it to pull him closer to you until he was unfurling your hand from it, just to bring it up and kiss your knuckles a handful of times. He reeled back completely, taking his mug from the table to drink down the rest of his coffee and you knew it was time for him to head out.

Jaehyun sat on the edge of that pullout, pulling his button-up from the floor to flick it across his shoulders to begin buttoning before your legs appeared on either side of him and you laid your head against his back. The two of you sat for a moment, just like that, before his warm hands tentatively stroked against your legs for a moment before he was standing, and dragging you up by your hands into him for another fleeting moment to press a kiss against your head just to move you to the side to pull the fluffy comforter from the couch to fold it nicely and set it aside. He wouldn’t let you help with the sheets or anything else as he tucked the couch back into its proper form, putting all the cushions and decorative pillows back in their rightful spot.

“I have to go,” he reminded you, taking both of your cheeks in his wide hands, adoring the way one of your hands circled his wrist, while the other tugged him a little closer around his back. He rested his forehead against yours, letting you look into his eyes as deeply as you wanted and you could tell, in that instant, that there were so many layers to Jaehyun that were not only important to know, but that he surely would reveal to you soon.

“Be good, be safe, I’ll find some potential times for our date, okay?” he asked you, feeling you nod against his head before he gathered your jaw upwards, slanting his mouth across yours for a more ardent kiss than the playful pecks you were dealing before. He kissed you breathless, he seemed to be pretty good at it already, before he was pulling away, reminding you again to be safe which had layers of meaning behind it—he would contact you about your next meeting. The stakes were higher than ever, having decided to commit to you. He was already in too deep, and too many people knew that.

You saw him out, some lingering grasps at each other’s fingers in the early morning hours that felt longing. You reminded him to be safe, as well; the two of you were well versed in the risks already, so you asked him to let you know when he was safe. He was extra cautious exiting your building, unsure if Yejun and friends had known that he spent the night at your place, but he wasn’t going to take any chances being nonchalant. He made a dash for the territory limits, getting out as soon as he could and into streets he was more familiar with, safer in, where he knew somebody would be looking out for him in an apartment window, or shop front.

He had just hit send on the message he promised confirming his safety when he was met by complete spitfire.

“I guess you think it’s chill to just disappear and spend the night in an unsafe part of the city where people are literally out to kill you now; you’ve got some balls on you,” Johnny mentioned in passing, carrying his cup of coffee when he came across Jaehyun in the entryway of their quarters.

“I don’t recall needing your permission to do anything,” Jaehyun answered quickly. “It’s not as if I just went and didn’t say shit to anyone in the last, I don’t know, six hours. And I don’t recall ever policing any questionable decisions you’ve made, so how about you mind your business?”

Johnny turned to him with the scowl of the devil on his face and approached him. “Sorry, how many times have I dragged you out of almost getting arrested? How many times have I had your back when you were in trouble? And you have the audacity—”

“Nobody asked you to save me, or whatever,” Jaehyun shot back, sizing Johnny up a bit as he stood tall.

“Didn’t think you needed reminding, but this is a family where we look out for each other, not go out and be reckless at the expense of others.”

“The expense of others?” Jaehyun asked with a scoff. He almost had to laugh, he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “Have you forgotten why I’m even here? What I went through before you all? Like I haven’t had my run ins with Yejun and friends, before, wait… Taeyong offered me a place to stay?” Jaehyun asked, tapping his chin in fake thought. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

“Knock it the fuck off,” Taeyong growled, taking a seat with his breakfast at the table that was just beyond the entry way through an arching doorway. “Not that Jaehyun needs signing off, but I did confirm his stay. I know you haven’t liked her from the beginning, but Jaehyun’s right. He’s been through the most, especially in regards to Yejun. Not to mention, he’s a grown man, and you’re not his mother,” Taeyong said, taking a spoonful of soup to drink it down as he stared straight ahead before Yuta and a few others joined him at the table.

“There’s hot breakfast in the kitchen for everyone, if you’re hungry, Jaehyun,” Yuta mentioned, taking his seat across from Taeyong.

Johnny was intent on making his point made, however, and forced Jaehyun to duck around him in order to make it to the kitchen, but not without giving him a look that meant he should watch himself. Jaehyun dished himself some breakfast and took a seat at the table with the others, sipping his second cup of coffee; yours tasted better.

The next few days continued tensely between Jaehyun and the rest of the crew with Johnny always having something to chirp about when Jaehyun was engrossed in his phone, probably having a conversation with you, but was hushed whenever he came around. Jaehyun wasn’t stupid, but he also wasn’t sure what Johnny’s purpose was trying to turn everyone against him when he probably didn’t even know the facts.

From what Jaehyun had gathered, Johnny was convinced you were some type of secret agent out to trap him and the rest of them; for what, he couldn’t be sure. Sure they were a group of misfits who vandalized buildings, and while that was against the law, if you were a secret agent and were trying to trap anyone then you should have been directing your efforts to the illegal dealings of Yejun and friends. And in the chance that the entire thing was fabricated, and Jaehyun was pretty sure that it was because why would you make such an effort to check on and take care of him just to try to throw them in jail, then what really was the purpose behind any of it? Johnny could just as easily make up something about anyone any of them knew.

One very serious point of tension between him and Johnny arose on a night Jaehyun opted to stay home from a paint. He still had a lot of thoughts about the situation swirling in his mind concerning your safety and the issues with Yejun and coming to the conclusion that he would eventually have to be resolved, somehow; the tension came when Jaehyun intentionally ignored a handful of calls from Johnny. Although it was unusual for Johnny to call more than once, and Jaehyun may have been in the wrong mindset, he was still pretty put off with the older for gossiping so much about Jaehyun’s affairs.

“I don’t get attached.”

“It’s not that easy anymore.”

“That’s against Jaehyun’s entire etiquette.”

These phrases made Jaehyun’s head want to explode, spinning around like crazy, and the incessant chiming of his phone wasn’t helping at all, especially not when he noticed a different contact rolling across his screen. Taeyong.

“We need backup at the warehouse, now.” Taeyong’s voice was stressed and urgent, not even hanging up the phone to allow Jaehyun to hear a couple of yells before hanging up the phone and jumping into his shoes to fly out the door, bringing whoever was around to help which included Jungwoo and Doyoung.

Even though the warehouse wasn’t far, it was already dark, and there were dangers quite literally everywhere considering the warehouse bordered the territories. It was a cautious trip, quiet, knives drawn for protection before coming across the scene with great haste. A few couples engaged in combat, some hand to hand, some in stand-offs waiting for the other to make the first move. Taeyong yelled, motioning to Johnny who was having a hard time pushing away from the ground. Jaehyun found him first, gathering him under the arms to drag him back towards the warehouse. He didn’t look overly wounded, considering. His face was a little beaten, and obviously there was something preventing him from standing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jaehyun asked urgently so that he could better assess what to do in the approaching minutes.

“I got swept from behind, my ankles beat but I don’t think it’s broken,” he hissed with a wince as Jaehyun made his way around to roll up the jeans on the indicated ankle and feel around for a moment. It definitely was swollen, probably rolled, nothing else felt out of place. He urged Jungwoo to rush over in a hurry to get Johnny somewhere else just in time to turn to catch the arm of Yejun.

“Don’t you know when to quit?” Jaehyun asked, somewhat annoyed as he fended the blow off.

He observed Yejun’s face, healing from those wounds you gave him just a few days prior. They would scar nastily; he could already tell. He wanted to spar, Jaehyun was ready for it and countered his attack. Knives clashed, ringing through the alleyway behind the warehouse as Jaehyun set his feet. The number one rule of knife fighting is disarming your opponent as quickly as possible. While most people are inclined to go for highly injuring strikes, Jaehyun focused on picking at the hand Yejun wielded his knife in, nicking his knuckles and fingers, the back of his hand here and there.

“Your little princess isn’t present,” Yejun teased.

“Yeah, she won’t be here to help you this time,” Jaehyun growled back, reminding him of the last time when Jaehyun had him in a vice-grip ready to choke him until the lights went out. Yejun snarled, having to admit defeat on that one but he wouldn’t be taken advantage of so easily this time.

Jaehyun was quick, alert, he knew what he needed to do, and that was avoid any more injuries. He dodged Yejun’s attacks like an elegant dancer, moving across the stage to high-tempo music. He needed to end it, to get Johnny and the rest of them out of there, especially as sirens began looming. No doubt residence of the area heard the commotion, they always seemed to be on top of it when shit was hitting the fan.

It wasn’t long before Yejun’s men were finally starting to fall back, attempting to disappear into the shadows to avoid what could be inevitable.

“You better go,” Jaehyun commented, “your boys are falling back left and right, wouldn’t want to be left to the wolves, would you?”

Yejun queued a nasty retort, but didn’t end up giving it, having been told he’d have to finish up later before he finally sunk into the shadows of the buildings, too. Yuta was already looking Johnny over for a moment, finally getting him to his feet. His ankle was tender to walk on, but he’d have to make somewhat of a trek, at least some distance away from where the police would be looking. Jaehyun was on watch, making sure nobody was lurking in the shadows, keeping track of foot police and routing their way through the alleys, eventually making it back.

The door slammed with everyone having made it in. Yuta was tending to Johnny in the other room as Taeyong paced in front of a waiting Jaehyun. He knew already there was a licking to be had, he had been busted intentionally ignoring Johnny’s calls, there was no doubt.

“I know you and John are having a disagreement right now,” Taeyong said calmly. That was the best Jaehyun could hope for. “But you know as well as anyone else that number one, he doesn’t want to talk to you unless he needs to, and number two, when you are being reached out to more than once in a short time-span, don’t you think it might be important?”

His voice was raised by the end of that statement and he was face to face with Jaehyun, although Jaehyun was a bit taller. He swallowed hard; considering the circumstances, it could have been much worse, and that was his only saving grace.

“It was my mistake, I let my feelings get the best of me; it won’t happen again.”

“I support the things you’re trying to do. I support your personal relationships and no matter what anyone says, they are yours to handle. But don’t forget there is more to this family than Johnny. There is more to this family than you. We have all come together over common issues, and we must only allow that to make us stronger. When you are called upon, it is your obligation to answer it, as it is for all of us,” Taeyong lectured, giving Jaehyun a good reminder that it was that family who came to his rescue when he was about to bleed out on the side of the road after sustaining traumatic injuries that could have, would have, and quite frankly should have ended his life. A traumatic injury that gave him the scar he looked at the most. Habitually, he reeled his hand back to place against his right side abdomen, able to feel those thirty-nine staples like they were fresh all over again.

“Yes, of course, Taeyong. It won’t happen again,” he reiterated, his voice a bit weaker this time.

“Don’t butt hot heads with Johnny; as a favor to yourself and to your duchess,” Taeyong reminded, clapping a hand down on the younger boy’s shoulder as he referred to you by Jaehyun’s most-used petname for you.

Tightlipped, Jaehyun just nodded, letting the advice lead to a handful of scenarios play out in his head, weighing the consequences of being on the wrong side of Johnny Suh and what that might mean for you.

Even when Taeyong stepped away, having cooled off a little bit and leaving Jaehyun with what he would consider an entire escape from the potential wrath of the situation, the younger male still couldn’t help but press his hand tight against that scar, as if he was holding himself together all over again to the best of his abilities, almost feeling the warmth of his blood seep through his torn shirt and run across his hand. He could almost feel the sting, feel the dizziness, the absolute nausea at the thought of that being the end of his road. Jaehyun tightened his jaw, meeting eyes with Yuta and then Johnny in the other room for only a moment before turning to blaze back to his room.

Speaking of his duchess, he was supposed to update you on a good time for the date he had planned. He finessed his phone from his pocket to construct a somewhat lengthy text about the plan to pick you up, to take the train into the city; he wouldn’t spoil all of the details to the trip, but he advised that you dressed casually. After finally proofreading his text more times than one could count on two hands and finally hitting send, he opted to shower to clear his mind of the situation that had just unfolded. It was already somewhat late into the evening, so he didn’t expect you to reply immediately if at all.

But you were always wide awake at that hour. It was late, but you were lounging in bed with the tableside lamp on scrolling on your phone when you received his text. It brought a tinge of a smile to your face, but it would be difficult to pick a good day for his lengthy plans. Your next day off from work was five days in the future; it would be the best you could give him. You replied to him with such information, reassuring him that you were excited to actually go out and do something with him during normal hours. When he had mentioned that he wanted to give you some sense of normalcy as the least he could do if you were going to stick by his side, it felt weird at first. Was there even a normal with Jaehyun? But meeting up in unfavorable circumstances in the early morning hours wasn’t the best.

You had to work in less than eight hours, so instead of waiting for Jaehyun to reply, you placed your phone on the charger and clicked your lamp off to cozy up under your covers and try your best to drift off to sleep. Jaehyun, after receiving your message, did the same, continuing to attempt to get Taeyong’s words through his head about Johnny. The family is bigger than Johnny, bigger than you. He knew that meant that a spat between them was trivial at best, especially about this, in the grand scheme of things; but he’d be lying if he said Johnny’s blatant apathy to the situation didn’t boil his blood. As Yuta said, it wasn’t so simple, and although Jaehyun could have taken a different path, it wasn’t the one he took and it was, as discussed, far too late to turn back for a handful of reasons.

Still, after laying his head on his flat pillow, tugging his thin quilt over his body, reminiscing of the comfort of your pull-out couch and how luxurious it felt by comparison, John’s rough attitude about himself and you continued to pick at his every nerve. He could only hope that Taeyong gave Johnny a similar talk, that it wasn’t about him, or about Jaehyun, but it was about the unit, about the family, and that any beef he had with Jaehyun was negligible compared to the struggles they’ve had to face in the past, the struggles that kept them together and alive. And only that provided him enough solace to finally fall asleep.

#jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #nct fluff #nct angst #jaehyun imagines #nct imaginaes #jaehyun series #nct series #badboy jaehyun #jaehyun x fem reader #series: graffiti

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infinitum-imaginaerum · 3 years

Text

Umbra | Lucas [VI]

Bodyguard!AU | Mini-series Words | 5,676 Warnings | Language, violence, mentions of death, illegality, alcohol, mature themes

V | VI | VII

The stoic look on Yukhei’s face had the boy’s blood running cold. He gripped the other male’s hand like a vice, as if it was the highest offense to even touch him. There was barely a quirk of his brow, but it was noticed by the bunch who were now silent—it was clear Yukhei wasn’t messing around, and even continued to verbally assure them as much.

“I am contracted to kill you or any of your friends if any of you put her in danger in any way. I am instructed to stop any unwanted behaviors, words, approaches, or similar actions. If you want to go ahead and try me, I will make a scene in front of all of these people. That document, and my signature on it, discriminates not,” Yukhei growled, finally letting go of the boy’s hand he was crushing in his own.

The male stumbled back, clear of the words and their warnings, especially as the group eyed each other. Seojun had a quirk in his own brow, weighting the odds of chancing Yukhei in this very moment. If you weren’t around, would anything they do at this point stop him? Surely he was entitled to self-defense, but at what risk? Either way, he sneered, and gathered the group to turn them away and go back to the party, even if that meant avoiding Yukhei and mingling with other eligible bachelors. He continued on his round, looking busy, looking like he was watching you from afar, wherever you were supposed to be—meanwhile, his mind was occupied with your actual location and when he could return to it. He liked it much better when he actually had an eye on you instead of playing this fake little game to keep the guests guessing. He came across your mother, chatting freely with her for a moment, and let her introduce him to a few other guests that she was particularly close with and while he humored your mother, it was nothing short of a beeline from the patio to the door of the game room. His polished dress shoes clicked against the marble of the foyer and, with a sweep, looked around before placing a patterned knock against the door and tried the handle.

It was still locked, the way it should have been, but it took a delayed moment before you finally made your way to the door. You were instructed to unlock it and step back so that if anyone happened to be passing, they wouldn’t actually see you. So you stood behind the door as it cracked open, the familiar dark coattail accompanied by a styled head of honey highlighted hair on a lithe body entered the room with somewhat urgency, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him.

You could feel the frustration rush in with him, but wouldn’t dare ask—it wasn’t in his nature to tell you, just to deal with it without complaint. But when he stood there for a lingering moment, barely the light of the television illuminating the room and casting shadows across his back while he placed a hand on his hip and the other high against the door to collect himself, that reservation started to dwindle.

“Lucas?” you asked quietly.

“Duchess?” he asked in return, his voice even toned with no hint on frustration within it.

“Did something happen?” you inquired, standing at the same distance to watch him carefully. There was no question he would never lash out at you, so that wasn’t the cause for your distance, he just was the type who needed a bit of breathing room.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” he reminded you and finally turned to face you with a half-forced smile, “You don’t need to worry so much about me.”

You shot down your own reply before you could get it out of your throat, knowing it was a bad idea. He turned fully, fixing his coat for a moment before reaching out for your hand to let you place it daintily within his and he ushered you back over to the couch where he could tell you had been residing rather comfortably, the throw blanket a crumpled mess in the corner of the couch. He planned to become engrossed in whatever show you happened to have on, unbuttoning his coat to take a seat next to you as you wrestled a bit with the blanket to get cozy under it again.

Although he lost his physical consciousness to the show as planned, he couldn’t help but let his mind race. Those dudes were good for nothing, that much was clear—but it really had him second guessing the placement of his feelings. It wasn’t proper, there was no doubt about that, and he tried to excuse his territorial attitude on the fact that you shouldn’t be thought of that way by anyone, but maybe it really was deeper than that. At some point he came back to life just enough to realize that the arm he had draped over the backrest of the couch had fallen onto your shoulder and you were far closer to him than you were when you started out. He had you tugged up next to him, under his protective arm, and your head laid comfortably against his shoulder.

He was hard pressed to move you—no one would be coming in or out except him—but he shifted on the couch anyway, straightening out his slouched back and, in effect, stirred you to the realization that perhaps you were too close. You moved over to the corner of the couch to lean your back into it, and he remained where he was, crossing an ankle over his knee and now able to extend his arm again across the back of the couch and the two of you quickly became reabsorbed into the show you had on.

You were on the verge of falling asleep, your eyes closed in the darkness of the room only illuminated by the television, where there was another specific knock on the door—signaling Yukhei’s next round. You barely stirred at the sound, and he was reaching over to stroke against your knee under the blanket, settling you the best he could.

“I’ll be back,” he reminded you again, and rose from the couch to button his coat in the slivered vision of your eyes as he watched you nod sleepily. He slithered out the door, hardly checking the foyer as he pulled the locked door closed behind him before meeting a familiar voice.

“On break, Yukhei?”

He turned to glance over his shoulder to see Kim Sanghyuk standing there with curious eyes.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he responded icily, double checking the handle before turning to stand tall in front of the door.

“You’re awfully protective of that door,” he mentioned, pushing a little further, and a little further, and a little further…

“Move along,” Yukhei replied quickly, trying to keep the interaction short. He knew you were still probably somewhat conscious, and being right in front of the door allowed ample volume for you to hear—something he was really trying to avoid.

“You first…” Sanghyuk smiled and gestured for Yukhei to go towards the patio first.

He eyed Sanghyuk; there was no other guard around which was curious for the knock on the door, and he knew he hadn’t taken too long to respond. There was a chance that the guard gave the signal and then immediately resumed duties, but that had to have meant that Sanghyuk wasn’t looming coincidentally.

“Move along, or I’ll move you along,” Yukhei finally replied threateningly.

“Oh?”

“I don’t think that’s an avenue you want to travel down, my friend,” Yukhei replied, slowly digging his hand across his body under his coat, and a distinct click of a holster strap sounded before the polished handle of a black Glock emerged from the lapel of his coat. Sanghyuk seemed to want to play games, even though he knew the risks. Yukhei seemed to take his job more seriously than the other, more seasoned Umbra that had been around, so maybe he was calling his bluff.

Sanghyuk chuckled a bit, watching Yukhei put on a bold face, unsure if he really had the guts to do what was running through his mind or not.

“In the foyer?” Sanghyuk questioned.

“I don’t care if there’s spectators, Sanghyuk,” Yukhei responded, annoyed, with a roll of his eyes, “I don’t care who, when, or why. I don’t know what kind of spineless guards you had the pleasure of dealing with before I arrived here, but rest assured things have changed.” He flicked his head to signal the older male to continue on his way away from the door of which he had no business concerning himself with. He knew what was behind that door: you. And Yukhei knew that.

The older sneered, the smirk having effectively been whipped from his face—no bluff. He gave Yukhei a look as he passed, attempting to glare him down, but it rolled off Yukhei like a rain-proof fly, especially as he followed Sanghyuk out, after re-holstering his weapon, through the kitchen sliding door to the patio where he looked around for only a moment before locking eyes with your mother who quickly excused herself from her little circle.

“There was no call,” she said, trying to keep her voice down, which only shook Yukhei a little bit.

“Sanghyuk knows,” he replied simply, scanning the patio for a moment. “I’ll not answer that door or any door without verbal affirmation until we get it sorted out. He’s been looming around where he doesn’t belong. He drew me out of the entertainment room; he knows she’s in there. I used the necessary force,” he told her, alluding to the talk that was about to circle about him drawing a weapon on a guest. He wanted her to know before she had to hear it from someone else.

“There’s no reprimand for that, Yukhei. It’s in your contract,” she reminded him, but it didn’t settle him any.

“I just wanted you to hear it directly from me,” he replied. “Let the others know about the verbal affirmation. I’ll not answer the door for a knock anymore.”

She nodded, understanding the situation and turned him back into the house. He glided through the house back to the entertainment room where he gave the knock first, “It’s Yukhei,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to announce yourself,” you called back, surprised to hear his smooth voice from the other side of the door accompanying the knock. You pushed yourself up off the couch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and meandered to the door to flick the lock on it. If you thought he entered urgently last time, it was even more urgent now. He shut the door firmly and locked it behind him before brushing past you to turn a lamp on.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he said, and he could almost feel the worry weave through your body as he took your hands to sit you on the couch. “The knock is obsolete; it’s not safe anymore. You do not answer the door for anyone who does not announce themselves. Everyone you should be answering the door for, you know their voice.”

“What is this about?” you asked, looking between his eyes. His hands were warm, a little rough as they cupped yours.

“Sanghyuk knows the knock, and with him looming around in places he shouldn’t be… he’s up to no good, and it’s my absolute duty to protect you. I request you answer the door for me and your mother and that’s it,” he explained. The furrow in your brow was unsettling his stomach. He wasn’t sure how much danger you’d been in the past aside from last night, but he wasn’t going to chance it.

“Lucas…” you trailed off.

“I’m serious,” he replied, “this is your safety at risk; and for all the silly games I might play with you, this isn’t one. He drew me out of this room, and if I hadn’t noticed him then… who knows. Who knows what would have happened. I know you think you know his intentions, but I don’t. And to be honest, even if his intentions are good and he does want to court you…I just don’t think I can stomach that.”

You clutched your necklace, the letters scripting your brother’s name into one of the rings felt like it was burning your fingers as you looked through Yukhei, heavily considering his words. He let you ponder for a few moments, but it wasn’t settling the feeling in his stomach, a feeling he could tell was brewing in yours. His fingers softly cupped under your chin, to bring your gaze back to him in a manner a little livelier.

“I will protect you,” he reassured.

“I know you will,” you replied, swallowing hard. In your heart of hearts, you knew he would. Even if that meant following his advice, even if that means listening to every paranoid thought he had about a person. You were so unsettled about the whole thing, about the reality of the situation, about Sanghyuk, you couldn’t help the way you shifted on the couch unable to find a comfortable position as your gaze feathered off to some obscure corner of the room again.

Wordlessly, he shifted on the couch and hulled you up against him. Hesitantly, you laid your head against his shoulder and listened to the television as what had become a droning background noise, your mind far too occupied with other thoughts to be concerned with what was actually going on there. Yukhei’s large hand stroked down your arm as soothingly as he could muster, his entire attention on you, trying to read anything there was to read, but quickly realizing that you were becoming an even more solidified brick wall. So, instead of concerning himself with the idea of missing something if he wasn’t paying close enough attention, he knew you would tell him if there was something to say. He laid his cheek softly against the top of your head and attempted to direct his attention to whatever you had on and hoped that the evening passed without incident.

You and Yukhei spent most of the subsequent days attending every Umbra meeting to get the situation figured out. Few noticed the way you sat in the room a little more closed off than normal, a little more stoic and doing a little more listening. Your father, naturally, eyed you distrustfully across every meeting—Sanghyuk was the leading suitor so for that plan to suddenly fall apart was suspicious to him. Naturally, he threw Yukhei in that lot with you, knowing he was probably the one who planted the seed in the first place, despite the fact that talk amongst the guests had corroborated the story about Yukhei brandishing his weapon in the presence of a guest, so would he really go that far to make up a lie?

At this point in the meeting, it wasn’t about you and Yukhei and who you would and would not answer the door for—that was covered pretty quickly and remained only him and your mother; but you were curious about the remainder of the conversation, how the rest of the Umbra would communicate, even if it was none of your business. And the absolute fact that it was none of your business and yet you stayed made your father even more suspicious. He had reminded you a handful of times across the past week that attending further meetings was unnecessary, and found it interesting that you were finally concerning yourself with the things that were going on in that house. Perhaps it was because all of your guards in the past hardly said a few words to you, hardly took their job seriously and would never have followed through with their contract if it really meant putting their life down for yours; a big reason why they were no longer your guards.

But at the same time, your mother noted something in you that caught you by surprise. You were, once again, less comfortable. You found yourself falling back into the routine of making sure you were done up, that your make-up and hair were proper, that your attire represented your fake status. You didn’t address anyone so casually anymore, for the most part. It was business as usual, which caused things to be a little different at the next gala.

“Yukhei doesn’t leave my side,” you propositioned as you brushed your hair at your vanity, listening to the demands of your father about the events lined up for that evening.

“He’s always within distance—”

“Doesn’t leave my side,” you reiterated, a little more commandingly as you slammed your brush down on your vanity and turned to face him. “And if it makes me seem vulnerable, then so what. I will not be lost to your wishes the way my brother was, let me make that painfully clear. Yukhei does not leave my side.”

Meanwhile, Yukhei was standing attentively in the corner of your room as he waited for the conversation to reach a compromise. Your father scowled over at him, still fully believing he was behind the whole misunderstanding about Sanghyuk being present for the code.

“He didn’t put me up to this, don’t even look at him,” you barked, “If you wish for me to continue to play your little games, then let me make it clear that my decisions and my requests are my own, and as you well know, there are two ways it can go.”

“Just get ready,” he sneered, and pulled the door closed behind himself with force. You plucked your brush back up from the vanity and continued with your hair, slowly and steadily, feeling the strands between your fingers while Yukhei stood quietly where he remained. He, too, wasn’t sure what to make of you. You had changed so much, regressed so much progress that you two had made with each other. It was almost as if you didn’t trust him to his face, but he was the only one you trusted to everyone else.

“I don’t mean to dismiss you, but will you wait in the foyer while I change?” you requested, gently setting your brush back down as you looked over at him. He had a stoic look on his face, arms respectfully behind his back as he looked attentive. He bowed his head slightly and, without a word, exited your room to close the door quietly behind him. You sighed, looking at the array of palettes in front of you, while you gripped your hands into fists so tightly it turned your knuckles white. A flash of a scenario crossed your eyes, depicting you toppling the vanity in a fit of rage before you took another deep breath and stood from the cushioned bench to open your wardrobe and pick out a gold skirted dress with a black crewneck long-sleeve top. The skirt itself looked like paisley imprinted gold leaf, metallic in nature that shimmered in even the dimmest of lights. Deep in the wardrobe on the top shelf housed a box which contained a boutonniere in the form of a black flower with gold accents and the next move you planned with it was gutsy, to say the least.

The knock on the door did little to disturb you as you shut the wardrobe and answered your door after your mother had announced herself. You opened it to watch her take your appearance in with a satisfied smile. You turned back to grab a pair of pumps to slide on after taking a seat on the vanity stool.

“I know this isn’t your idea of a good time, but will you please try to put on a smile?”

“The sooner we get this over with, the better for another week,” you replied, fastening the straps of your shoes before leading your mother out of the room. You entered the marble hallway, listening to her close the door behind her, and took a preparing breath with the trinket in your hands. Yukhei stood tall at the base of the stairs as he always did, hands casually in his pockets as he looked around with a face about as uninterested as you were. The smooth railing flittered under your hand as you made your way down the steps to put yourself right in front of him before fastening the boutonniere against the lapel of his pressed jacket. It was all so fast, he hardly noticed you in front of him before you were pressing the pin through the cloth and only a moment longer before you were smoothing his jacket back out.

It reminded you of the first gala, not but a few weeks ago. So much had already happened between then and now. The gala, the first presumed attempt on your house since he had come in, the full extent of your attitude towards your father; so many things between the two of you that you would never speak of again. You marveled at the boutonniere, but not without a scoff; the gala was already going outside, and it was like you to be fashionably late. He took your chin softly, turning your face back up to his to melt in the amber pools of his warm gaze despite the stoicism on his face. It took your breath away for the moment.

“You look gorgeous, as always,” he muttered to you, low enough to miss the prying ears of your mother still at the top of the stairs.

“And you, dapper and sharp,” you replied, relishing the feel of the pad of his thumb and index finger against your chin which turned your face up.

He turned, offering his arm to you, that you daintily wrapped your hand around and tugged up the front of your dress to not trip over it as you made your way out onto the patio. As with tradition, many suitors approached you to greet and spread DNA across the back of your hand one after another, but you noticed they dismissed themselves far more quickly in the presence of Yukhei who was adamantly standing his ground next to you, as you requested.

Yukhei next to you drowned your safety concerns, but he didn’t drown your anxiety. Every tray that walked by with a small drink, you took one from and it never took you long to finish. It made dealing with the suitors, with the families, with the daughters a lot easier; it made holding on to Yukhei a little more convenient the further away from reality you were getting. Which turned out to be advantageous for you once you finally came across Sanghyuk and friends who would undoubtedly be looking for you. But before you’d find him, you would entertain many conversations putting on your best fake smile, with your best fake laugh, and your best fake interest in whatever it was they had to offer. The act had become second nature, but Yukhei could feel the truth in the way you clutched at the inside of his elbow from time to time as if to ask him to rescue you from the conversation by coming up with a distraction. You were only able to escape prying eyes for a few moments before running across a familiar group.

“Ahh, the princess herself, with dog in tow,” one of them chirped, but you gave him an unamused look.

“He will happily eat your entrails for breakfast,” you replied with a shrewd smile, and you spoke with confidence, but the shaky grip on the inside of Yukhei’s elbow said otherwise.

“That’s awfully unbecoming of you,” Sanghyuk commented.

“These parties are awfully unbecoming of me, Sanghyuk,” you answered, waving a server over with a platter of shots and offered a round to the boys so you all could have a drink together, “being paraded around like a piece of property to be traded and owned by another,” you added, lifting your small glass before throwing it back, letting that toxic golden liquid slip down your throat as a chaser to the last.

“When will you silly boys learn that I’m not even here for anyone’s benefit,” you laughed under your breath, but the sharp push of Yukhei’s fingers into your far hip reminded you that while that might have been true, you still had a charade to play for the time being. You smiled up at him, but he knew it wasn’t happy, it was merely thanking him for saving you from a later lecture and you had hoped that nobody in your immediate presence aside from him had heard what you just said.

You entertained Sanghyuk and friends for only a little bit longer, getting in slim conversation before Yukhei found a new target to drag you towards. He could tell the air was thick and awkward, that things probably weren’t great considering the hot issue between Yukhei and Sanghyuk and he, quite frankly, didn’t want to bare it any longer than you, and so tugged you away and into the crowd of people who continued to beg for your attention.

For once, in as long as you could remember, a gala passed without incident. However, much like the first, you were ending the night far too tipsy to be respectable and if you hadn’t Yukhei to keep your balance on, you wouldn’t have made it far on your own two feet. At some point, you had finessed the straps loose and gathered them in your hands after making your rounds to say goodnight. The majority of it was a blur, and you probably couldn’t count on two hands just how many shots you’d put back, and part of you was surprised that Yukhei had nothing to say about it—albeit, it wasn’t really his place.

He still helped you through the glass door just the same, finessed your shoes from your hand just the same, and led you up to your room just the same. This time, Yukhei had turned both floor lamps on so that he could see with the door closed; there was a good chance that someone would be coming by and the last time in the dark was a little difficult, but convenient considering the circumstances. You were seated in the reading chair across from the foot of your bed, pondering the night’s events to the best of your ability.

“I drank too much,” you said, realizing the consequences of your actions.

“You hate it out there,” he replied, trying to pin your feelings which drove you to this point.

“I hate it out there!” you exclaimed, nodding with his assessment. “I used to always get chastised for drinking too much, but you… you just take care of me, you just know that this is a situation I have to cope with, not a situation I choose…” you trailed off before pushing yourself to your feet.

This time, he was ready, and easily and smoothly caught your elbows as you slumped against him. You grabbed onto his lapel, using it to hold yourself up to the best of your ability as your face sunk into the crook of his neck.

“Why me, why this life? I would kill to be a normal girl who grew up in some suburban neighborhood and went to public school and had friends and could go to the mall and just live,” you whined, soothed by the gentle swaying that the was providing.

“I can’t say, duchess,” he replied, empathizing with your pain. “Just know that whatever way you have to deal with this, I’m here for you.”

Your face rose from the crook of his neck, truly touched by his words, perhaps the most compassionate words that had ever been spoken to you within your existence. You looked up at him, the liquor-goggles seemed delayed for a moment as you looked into his eyes and you could tell, somewhere in there, he did hurt for you. But just as soon as they had disappeared, they came back, and his blurry face caused you to closer your eyes. Somewhere in your blurry recollection you could feel his wide palm against the small of your back probably a tad low to be considered acceptable. But to be completely fair, the way one of your hands gripped his lapel just under the boutonniere and the other clutched at the back of his neck probably wasn’t acceptable either—in fact, the more time went on, you were sure that your relationship with him was becoming more and more unacceptable for its preferred professionalism.

“I don’t want to be in this stupid dress anymore,” you uttered, your eyes finally fluttering open only to find the crease of the wall and ceiling above Yukhei’s head. You turned to your dresser to pull out some pajamas, only to feel his warm embrace around your waist—you were wobbling uncontrollably—and his other hand to reach past you to pick something out. It wasn’t his first rodeo at this point and he figured it wouldn’t be his last. You didn’t need an unzip, but he held you steady as you face away from him to step out of your dress which he bundled into his arm. For a fleeting moment, the way the warmth of your dress brushed against the skin of his cheek made his eyes roll, drenched in your familiar scent that filled his lungs to the brim before he was dropping your dress before catching you stumble; firm, wide hands took both of your hips to keep you standing upright.

“Lucas,” you whined, fingers furling in the comforter of your bed as you stood on wobbly legs. It took a moment before his hands would release you to gather your dress from the floor and put it over the chair—you would know better what to do with it tomorrow. Before he was able to turn around, you surprised him by tumbling into his back and throwing your arms around his middle.

“You should have gotten into bed,” he murmured, helping your arms dodge the holster of his weapon underneath his suitcoat, but was less wary of the way your hands traveled over his front aside from that.

“I don’t want to get into bed,” you replied while one of your hands found the opening of his jacket to slide under it.

“What do you want?” he asked through somewhat gritted teeth. Here he was again, in a situation torn by decision which should have been so obvious; to put you in bed and retire for the night, but the way your hands moved about him, the way you pressed against his back, the way you teased him with that voice and the way he thought you would forget was clouding that better judgement the way it had time and time again.

Your chuckle hit his ear like a chill, bringing goosebumps to the surface of his skin. Part of him was glad you didn’t answer, because he knew you had an answer queued in your throat that would make him blush. His hand covered yours, totally eclipsing it against his body before curling around it to pull it away so that he could turn to look at you with a quirk of his brow.

He had that typical stern look on his face, the one that said he wasn’t playing games with you, no matter how many games you were trying to play with him. But that never stopped you from trying to play, especially not in this mindset. You stood just inches away from him, so it was second thought to bring your hands up to sloppily undo the buttons of his coat, and he surprisingly let you with a curious gaze. What is it you were trying to accomplish? What type of reaction where you hoping for? That little voice in the back of his mind, that little devil on his shoulder pleaded for him to let you continue, just to see.

So you continued, looking up at his less than amused face while showing no intention to stop you. Your hands pushed across the expanse of his pressed white shirt, up to his shoulders to push his jacket off and it slouched into the chair atop your dress.

“Play a game with me,” you said, your wobbly gaze falling down his face and chin to his tie and trailed that down to your hands pushed against his abdomen as you leaned against him. “It’s called the nervous game.”

He knew the premise. He was supposed to let you touch him while asking if he was nervous until he said yes. It felt like a whirlwind with you. It wasn’t as if you weren’t in his very bed a few weeks ago, with his legs entwined with yours and his warm chest under your touch as you looked into his amber eyes, admitting to him the butterflies in your stomach. It wasn’t as if the idea of the two of you had never been brought up in one way or another. But somehow, since you’d become more closed off again since the meetings, it all felt like square one again. Not to mention you both knew that this would be frowned upon. Your mother even said, your father had a certain idea about the way he wanted things to go, and surely Yukhei knew he wasn’t part of the plan.

All of this in the back of his mind barely gave him enough consciousness to feel your hands against his black leather belt and, from the depths of his throat, he managed, “I’m nervous,” and quickly gathered your hands with a deep inhale, unbothered by your bubbly giggle as you tugged against his grasp, a tad off balance.

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