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xelasrecords · 1 year

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The Love We Live For

Kim Jihyun x MC x Han Jumin

Jihyun comes home injured so MC and Jumin fuss over him. MC's love for them is romantic and reciprocated, while Jihyun and Jumin's love is platonic. The idea for this came when I replayed Jihyun's route and realised I couldn't choose between them. I want to feel loved and admire their love. Everything else comes after. I hope this story will make you feel loved too.

Words: 4.3k

Masterlist Read on AO3 Moodboard

The evening saw her and Jumin lounging on Jihyun's couch, her bare feet on Jumin's lap, Jumin's head tipped back against the plush cushion. Her heart was thrumming with anticipation of Jihyun coming home today. It was the kind of yearning that one didn't realise one could have until the object of affection was gone. She welcomed the feeling without objection, for there had always been fondness between the three of them. And if hers developed into something more—equally yet differently—for the two men she always searched for in empty rooms and bustling crowds, it was not something she could control.

"Jumin, this is not the time to be sleeping." She nudged Jumin's side with her toes when his eyelids were drooping.

A few weeks had passed since Jihyun's departure for work, and instead of growing accustomed to his absence, they had grown to miss his presence. So when she asked Jumin to join her in welcoming their beloved friend at his home, Jumin accepted her offer in earnest. No one wanted to miss the opportunity; the right place at the right time couldn't come often enough for three people who lived vastly different lives.

Jumin closed his hand around her ankle, not bothering to open his eyes. It was a wonder that a touch so familiar could still send sparks up her veins. "Allow me to take a quick nap."

She was glad when he didn't move his hand away. "I don't think your best friend would like it when his surprise gift is a sleeping log."

"He doesn't have any expectations from me. He likes me always," Jumin said. "And I would make a sustainable log."

She sunk into the sea of throw pillows and made herself comfortable. "I'd process you into paper immediately."

Jumin peeked at her. "To write a heartfelt love letter proclaiming your feelings for me?"

"To revise your sleeping habits and make a better you." She cracked a grin. She liked how Jumin could flirt with her in a playful manner. He never revealed this side of him when there were others around. Of course, Jihyun was excluded from the grouping. He was not other people to them.

"You only need to turn to Jihyun for that," Jumin said after a moment. "He is the better part of me. His kindness is what makes me who I am. I wouldn't be sitting with you here if he never influenced this acceptance into me."

"Then who are you to him?" The first button of Jumin's white shirt was undone, revealing the slope of his throat that ran down to the base of his collarbones, but she fought to train her eyes on his face.

"His conscience. I think he looks to me as some kind of moral compass. He's always apologetic for the things he hasn't done enough. He doesn't think about what he has done, only what he hasn't. I'd like to believe that I lessen his burden by having faith in him."

"Do you ever wonder if that faith is misplaced?" There was no judgement in her voice, just curiosity. She could never tire of listening to how much Jihyun meant to Jumin. Jumin was at his tenderest when he spoke about his friend, the one soul that he could recognise from afar and would not let go no matter the circumstance.

"It wouldn't be faith if I doubted my belief in him," Jumin stated like it was a fact known to all. "It's how I believe in you too."

"I don't think I look at you like you're my guiding star."

He lifted his head to face her. "Quite the opposite. I believe in you because you possess a good sense independent of anyone's opinion, a sense that sometimes I lose, and you care for Jihyun like no other. That's enough to tell how trustworthy you are."

"I care for Jihyun like I care for you," she said softly. "There's no one I'd rather be here with than you. Your company means more to me than you can imagine."

Jumin smiled at her. "I know."

She was about to reply when they were interrupted by a click at the door. Immediately, she and Jumin rose from the couch, him gently putting her legs away and her shoving the pillows aside to get to her feet.

It was Jihyun. It was Jihyun who trudged in with a camera slung around his neck. It was Jihyun with a face peppered with scratches and bruises and ragged clothes stained with dirt.

She stopped short before him, her initial joy upon seeing him twisted into horror. One glance at Jumin's stricken face confirmed that his feelings mirrored hers, his clamped fists turning white at his sides.

Jihyun was just as astounded to see them. He turned his head away as if to hide the scars on his cheek, but she slowly tilted his jaw back to her, the other hand hovering over a blooming bruise. "What happened?" she breathed out.

Jihyun gave them a rueful smile, eyes darting from her concerned expression to Jumin's terse form. "I didn't know that you two would be here."

"We need to get you to the hospital right away," Jumin said, his tone urgent.

"It's only a light injury, Jumin. No need to call the doctors. I didn't hit my head and there are no open wounds, see?" Jihyun widened his arms. After a quick scan and her experience of tending to his worse wounds, she could tell that he was telling the truth. It relaxed her a bit.

But his comment seemed to shake Jumin out of his shock and shifted his mood into annoyance. "Oh, I have seen light, and this is not light."

"It's deep purple—the bruise, I mean," she commented helpfully.

"Thank you for your observation," Jumin deadpanned. "He should paint his next artwork with that colour."

"Dark violet would be a nice shade to paint with," Jihyun mulled.

Jumin shot him a reprimanding look and helped him shrug off his coat. Slowly, Jumin got Jihyun's arms out of the sleeves, cautious not to let the fabric scrape against the cuts on the skin. No matter how angry Jumin was at him, he would never use aggression to handle him. It was another thing that she liked about Jumin.

Jihyun, however, wasn't exactly likeable at the moment. She was relieved that he didn't need urgent care, but she shared Jumin's displeasure. A nagging suspicion crept up when she noticed the guilt darkening Jihyun's expression.

"Did you do something stupid?" she asked.

"It's in poor fashion to assume he's the perpetrator when he could've been the victim," commented Jumin.

"It wasn't something stupid." Jihyun seemed as innocent as he could be, but she could see through his distractingly angelic face, the battered face that sent a fresh sharp pang to her heart whenever she examined it. "I was trying to take a photograph of a flower growing on a high wall when I slipped."

Jumin dropped the dirty coat that he'd folded and stared at Jihyun. "I take it back. You are an idiot. Did you not check for your safety before you put yourself in a precarious position?"

"He wouldn't be in this state if he did," she muttered.

Jumin bent down to pick up the coat. "You have been very helpful tonight."

"Sarcasm from a handsome brooding man, just how I like it." She winked, trying to make light of the situation. Jihyun had been through worse, so this was fine. This was manageable. There were no serious injuries, so self-treatment would be enough. They could head to the hospital the next day if they really had to. "Now I'm about to be even more helpful. Pretend to be surprised, Jumin."

But it appeared that Jihyun could sense her underlying anxiety. He touched her forearm and offered a reassuring smile while nodding his head once, silently encouraging her to do what she had planned. She pressed her lips into a tight smile and placed a hand on his back, guiding him to the couch. She could feel Jumin's gaze burning the back of her head, but she ignored it. Better for him to be irked than incapacitated with terror.

Jumin sighed and stalked off to another room, presumably in search of the first aid kit. In this house, nothing ever stayed at its original place. Jumin often brought it up as a complaint and had attempted to stage an intervention for it, but she didn't mind if Jihyun did not. She found Jumin fussing about and Jihyun watching him in resignation rather endearing.

Once she cleared the throw pillows from the couch, Jihyun took her hand and brought her down to sit beside him. "I didn't want you and Jumin to know," he said.

"I know."

"I didn't want you to be worried about me."

"I know that too." She took his camera off his neck and placed it on the table. "But we'll worry nonetheless. Partly because you're always up to questionable things but mostly because you're our friend. You can't expect us to be happy all the time when that isn't humanly possible."

Jihyun pushed aside the strands of mint hair that fell over his matching-coloured eyes. "I'm afraid that I'm a burden to you and Jumin."

"Do you think it's a burden to love?" She briefly wondered how it would feel to thread through his hair but quickly banished the thought. This was not the time.

"To love me?"

"For you to love someone," she clarified. "Me. Jumin."

A small, disbelieving laugh slipped past Jihyun. "How could I, when I've known how warm it feels? I feel it when I see you and Jumin, and I feel it from the two of you. It's like the three of us are running on the same wavelength." He met her unwavering gaze. "I would do anything for a chance of your happiness even if it's the most laborious and harmful task, and I wouldn't think of it as a task. It'd be the easiest thing to do in the world because it's not something I'd have to choose. I would just do it."

The edges of her mouth curled into a small smile. "Helping you isn't something we have to choose either. When you love someone, sometimes you've got to let them do a little more work when you can't. Love is not about giving until you break yourself. You need to refill your vessel by receiving love too. We're here with you, so stop driving us away." She arranged a pillow on the couch before sliding to the floor. "Come, lie down. I bet you're tired. You drove on your own, didn't you?"

Jihyun gave her another apologetic smile but obeyed her request without protest. Jumin's footsteps echoed behind her—footsteps that she had become familiar with from the many times they slept over at each other's houses, how he always took long, steady strides like he had a place to be. Jumin swerved his body away from her as he passed by, carrying a large bowl filled with water in one hand and a first aid kit in the other while she shifted to give him space.

He set down the bowl on the table, water swishing inside. "Jihyun, you need to let me call someone to organise your home. Did you know where I found this?" Jumin rattled the first aid kit. "In the cereal cabinet. What on earth was it doing there?"

She craned her neck to look at Jumin. Though his shoulders were slumped from exhaustion, there was still an air of authority about him. "I heard you could use iodine as a replacement for milk. It'd look like blood and tempt the modern vampires from the book you read," she paused, thinking. "But you have to consider its texture. It's not thick enough to be confused with blood."

Jumin looked at her with newfound fascination, his irritation temporarily forgotten. "That's an interesting observation. Iodine smells like iron, so there's a chance that they could be fooled. I must tell Assistant Kang to retrieve some samples and test them out later."

Beside her, Jihyun leaned across to her ear and whispered, "Should we stop him?"

She snorted. "Maybe I could be your test subject, Jumin. Who knows? I might be a vampire, or it might turn me into one."

"Not now, then," Jihyun said under his breath and reclined to his previous position.

Jumin brandished the bottle of iodine from the kit and examined it with utmost curiosity. "According to the book, you'd have to be bitten to be one."

"Please," Jihyun cut in. "I merely wanted to take out the cereal but I forgot and shelved the kit instead."

Jumin deflated with disappointment. "So you were hungry and bleeding?"

"I understand." She raised her hand empathically. "I get that once a month."

"If it helps, I'm still bleeding now," Jihyun offered.

"Right." She arranged herself into a kneel and squeezed out water from the floating cloth in the water bowl.

The water was warm as it dripped down her elbow. She gently rubbed the cloth over Jihyun's face, cleaning it of the dirt that smeared across his jaw. He smelled like it too, she thought as she plucked a twig out of his mint-coloured hair. It might have been a small accident, but how many more small accidents should occur until they amounted to fatal destruction?

When she reached his split lip, she hesitated. Dry blood had crusted around the cut, but fresh blood was pooling again; it must have cracked when he talked. She was regretting how she couldn't be there for him when he lowered her wrist just enough to see her without the cloth obstructing his view. "It's all right, take your time. It doesn't hurt as much as it looks," he encouraged.

It was as if he could read her mind.

She nodded in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "This may sting a bit," she warned before wiping the blood away. She was conscious of her movement and his breath fanning the back of her hand, the softness of his lips despite the injury. It was the closest she had ever got to it.

She was also aware of Jumin's presence beside her, who had sat on the floor with her to clean the cuts on Jihyun's arms, her shoulder occasionally brushing Jumin's. She could feel his eyes flitting from Jihyun to her when he thought she didn't notice, but was there any chance that she would not? It was almost impossible not to bristle under his intense stare studying her actions and reactions. She bit her lip and tried to concentrate on her duty at hand.

Jihyun cleared his throat. "I know I said that I felt bad for making you two help me earlier, but if I'm being honest, I'm also relieved that I don't have to do this alone." He smiled apologetically at both of them. "Thank you."

Jumin halted his ministration and looked up at Jihyun. "How many times do we have to tell you that you're not alone? Even when we're not here, you can always call us and we'll come in a heartbeat. Or I can call in a house doctor for you if you prefer. You simply need to ask." Jumin stared at the bandage that he just patched on Jihyun's arm. "Or don't ask, but I would do it regardless."

"Asking for help is harder than believing I would receive one," admitted Jihyun. "I know that you would come to my aid. You always have, but letting myself be weak has never been my strong suit."

"If it is reassurance that you need, then I will give it to you: being weak is not wrong," Jumin said, a hard edge in his voice. "What's wrong is putting yourself in dangerous situations for the sake of art. I worry that your pursuit of it is making you self-destructive. Is there no other healthier way to do it?" The gauze in his hand was trembling—from frustration and desperation, she guessed.

Alarmed, Jihyun pushed himself up and leaned towards his friend. "I'm surprised you're in this much distress, Jumin."

She felt compelled to comfort them, but she knew soothing words would not fix anything. The two men, the only men she could love this much, had to come to an agreement themselves. Jihyun always put every other thing before his health and Jumin was always worried about him. No one meant harm, but it did not mean no harm came to them.

Jumin shook his head in disbelief. "How can I not be? She and you are all I have. What if someday you do something so foolishly dangerous that you—"

"No!" Jihyun exclaimed, shocking both of them. "That won't happen." He grasped at Jumin's hand, the gauze falling to the floor. She had never seen such an intense display of emotions between them. "You forget that I love you. You're my best friend and I won't leave you for a temporary thrill. Art may provide me respite, but hurting you would scar me forever. It's not a line that I dare to cross."

"You're famous for blurring the line of death."

"Not this time. I know I'm selfish for this, but when I imagine toeing the line over and over until I've done irreversible damage to you, I shatter inside. I don't think I could live with myself if that happens. It is difficult enough to live with myself as I am."

"Then I would live for you." Jumin's eyes blazed with righteous rage. "What is it that you think I have been doing this whole time? I forgive you so you can find it in you to forgive yourself. I stand by you through everything because I believe you are good when you fail to see why, which is always, but I can't stand it when you promise one thing for my sake and do another behind my back."

"I won't—"

"Don't," Jumin warned, "make another empty promise."

"Jumin, no." Jihyun's tone was pleading. "That was before."

At once, she and Jumin understood what Jihyun meant. For Jumin and Jihyun, there was only before she came into their lives, and after, when everything fell into clear focus. Jihyun turned to her, reaching out to touch her face, and she drew closer instinctively. "The sight of you heartbroken isn't something that I ever want to see." His voice was barely a whisper.

Everyone held still. They never saw her as an intruder to their friendship; she was the missing key that locked their bond together. It felt right to be three, or they would spend their time constantly wondering how the missing one was doing. Jihyun's honesty was a surprise to her though—she didn't think he could have faith in how deep her feelings ran for him, and in turn, did not want to betray her heart because he cared about her just as much. She had thought that treatment was reserved for Jumin.

"It's fine to do the things you're passionate about," she finally said, dimly aware that her fingers had pruned under the wet cloth she was clutching. "You'll fall sometimes. That happens when you hit the ground running. Only don't disregard your safety completely, and rely on us when you need to. That's how you can keep my heart."

A small smile played on Jihyun's lips. "I will try."

She smiled back and turned to Jumin, only to have him already regarding her with such tenderness that made her feel like folding into herself. She knew what he was trying to convey—thank you for looking after my friend, thank you for telling him he's fine the way he is, thank you for loving him. And the most palpable of all, thank you for being here with me.

But she hadn't done anything grand. It was simply a love she couldn't hold back from spilling at the brim. Both Jumin and Jihyun came with their own set of irritabilities, but they were easy to love. Where else could she find a love that stayed up with her because they loved the person she loved, a love that was willing to kneel on the floor with her until their legs went numb because someone she loved was in more pain? It was the kind of love where she didn't have to explain herself because there was nothing to explain, because they would understand her or strive to do so without judgement.

She would not give it up for anything.

Jumin, gentle eyes still on her, switched out the cloth from her hand with an ointment. "How much scrubbing are you trying to do to him? You're flooding the floor." He bent down and used the cloth to wipe the water pooling before her knees, his knuckle skimming her skin, a contact that sent a pleasant shiver through her body.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, silent gratitude for what he had said to Jihyun. There was love in Jumin's words. She could hear it as she could read it in her own actions, as Jihyun could feel it through their care. They loved each other so, so much, and she knew that if they were offered a chance to find a better friend, none of them would have taken it. No one was like the two men, and no one was like her.

Jumin tilted his head up to her and nodded with a smile. With Jumin, it was always the words unsaid that spoke the most volume.

"She could polish me until I'm shiny," suggested Jihyun.

Jumin straightened his back. "That's impossible. You're not a statue."

She shrugged. "He looks like one."

"Oh no, that can't be." Jihyun waved it away. "Jumin is more handsome than me."

She took a swab of the ointment and applied it generously to Jihyun's bruising cheek. "All right, if you're going to be humble, then I'll proudly announce myself as the most beautiful one here."

"While that is true, I didn't say I was going to be modest," Jumin jumped in.

She opened the iodine's cap, the strong biting smell stinging her nose, and dabbed it on the cuts on Jihyun's forehead and chin before covering them with bandages. "But you did agree that I'm the best, so no point in making a point of your handsomeness now."

"She's right, you know," Jihyun said.

Jumin grunted and stood up, apparently done with his help. "Why do you always pick her side over mine?"

Jihyun grinned. "Just following my heart."

She patted his shoulder after she finished applying salve to his split lip. "You're all patched up. Just be careful for the next few days."

"Forever," Jumin corrected.

"You two are incorrigible." Jihyun laughed and shook his head. It was a lilting, melodious sound that she never wanted to lose from memory. "I will be more careful in the future. Please believe me this time."

She and Jumin shared a look. His steady belief in Jihyun did seem to strengthen Jihyun's resolve in himself. She knew the change would not be instantaneous, but the fact that he listened already spoke a lot about his usually obstinate character. How could one affect another so greatly? She saw her wonder reflected in Jumin's expression.

"I'll believe you," she said.

"So will I," said Jumin. "Since we have toiled into the night for you, it would be appropriate to commemorate this moment. May I use your camera?"

Jihyun gestured at him good-naturedly while sitting up. "Go ahead. Just turn the setting to automatic."

She and Jihyun shared knowing looks and suppressed their giggles as they waited for Jumin who was busy tackling the buttons and adjusting the lens. Jumin's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, occasionally looking through the viewfinder only to alter the settings again. Why he didn't ask Jihyun for help she couldn't fathom. Perhaps he wanted the satisfaction of succeeding in figuring it out alone.

Finally, he looked up with a smirk. "I'm all set. Do get into position now."

"You don't want to be in the picture?" she asked.

"I shall try to be Jihyun tonight. I'm eager to find out why he's willing to put his life on the line for this." Jumin gave Jihyun a pointed stare, which Jihyun returned with a wince.

She chuckled to herself, mesmerised by how easily Jumin could get annoyed by Jihyun's antics, and yet it was impossible to find another love as pure as theirs, and how they welcomed her with open arms. Now that she knew with whom she belonged, everywhere else felt foreign. In this friendship they had, she was not a trespasser and did not have to cross any line; there was never a line to begin with. They accepted her and loved her, as simple as that.

She settled into a relaxed pose, folding her legs into a cross while still sitting on the floor. She placed an elbow on top of Jihyun's knees and looked up at him, her chin in her palm. With a smile, he caressed her hair and placed his hand on her shoulder, angling his body close enough that her head could lay against his chest if she dared to.

Jumin watched them with patience and fondness. They were all happy at this moment—yes, yes, they were. It was almost more important that they could capture this present joy than the scene itself; if only feelings could be frozen and preserved. Was this the reason Jihyun took pictures? At the count of three, they both smiled into the camera and the flash went off.

The result?

It was not even a question worth asking.

Of course it was blurred.

Footnotes:

The theme of this story is becoming better because of the people you love. I know Jihyun is the type who can hurt himself even though it hurts his loved ones, but that's when he's at his worst with Rika. I'd like to think that surrounded by the right people, he could be influenced to be better. When I was younger, I thought it was impossible to be deeply changed by anyone and that it'd be a bad thing if we were, but I've learned that it isn't always. We can bring a good impact on others' lives too.

Hardest one to write yet because I'd never written about love this honest and fond before, but I had fun doing it although I wanted to scream whenever I got stuck articulating the feeling. The platonic side was easy, however, since it was my love for my best friend that I poured into Jumin and Jihyun. Sometimes I really do believe that our souls are intertwined—no one can see through me the way she can and vice versa, and I admire her for everything that she is. This is my love letter for her of sorts. I wouldn't be who I am without her.

Now I NEED to talk about the header. I thought it fitting to use paintings that feel intimate and vulnerable, and purposely didn't give MC any physical attributes to be more inclusive (fought the urge to project my characteristics to feel like the main character). MC has a painting of a red rose that stands out among 2 white roses because she brings colour to the twin soul best friends. Jumin has 2 silhouettes watching a lonely shadow go. Jihyun has a close-up of a man with bright brushstrokes looking out forlornly. The background is crimson red to match the intensity of their love. I literally cannot be chill I will think about everything this is how I have fun.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

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alchemisoul · 11 months

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Freemason Sufi Druid | Robert Graves

Graves turned down a CBE in 1957 and was among a shortlist of authors considered for the 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature, losing out to John Steinbeck. And while mostly remembered as an author and poet, his contributions to the comparative examination retracing the overlapping commonalites shared and missing links in between Western and Eastern esotericism, hermeticism, and mysticism are not as widely cited or as commonly known as those of Manly P. Hall, Madame Blavatsky, Aleister Crowley, G.I Gurdjieff, P.D Ouspensky, Robert Anton Wilson, Rudolph Steiner, and Alan Watts but nevertheless stand on their own merit.

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natasha-in-space · 1 year

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hi!!! can I request a school ver seven and MC maybe confessing to each other? I wanna write a bunch of school ver mysme stories but I just don't have any time 🥹

Sooo, I actually ended up writing this promt in the canon timeline for mm, and not as an au... I just had this idea for a possible scenario, where you get to meet Saeyoung before he ever got the chance to join the RFA, and the rest was history. SO! I used his college fake name 'Chilyoung' for this drabble. This is kinda angsty... But, with the happy ending. Enjoy! :)

Today was going to be the day. The day you will finally overcome all your fears and take the leap of faith instead of fretting over every little thing that could possibly go wrong.

Your rapid heartbeat thundering all the way up into your temples, you paced through the quiet corridor, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt and waiting for him to leave the classroom. Your school day was over a few hours ago... But, you refused to leave, fighting against your inner demons and anticipating the moment you'll have to spill your heart free. And what a cliche situation this truly was... confessing your feelings to your school crush that has suddenly popped up into your life like a wild hurricane, sweeping you off your feet before you could even blink or shield yourself against the whipping wind.

Chilyoung was a boy bathed in secrets and mystery, being a transfer student with a truly genius mind. Granted, you did not think of him much at first. To say he was distant is to say nothing at all. He was someone who shocked almost every teacher and student with his exceptional abilities, but he also treated those around him coldly and seemingly indifferently. He sat and walked alone, refusing to be a part of any company friendly enough to outstretch their hands to the new student. It didn't take long for your classmates to give up their numerous attempts at befriending him, preferring instead to create a whole plethora of rumors that could potentially explain Chilyoung's withdrawn nature.

Some were sympathetic, while others cruel.

It wasn't until one fated day when you were paired up with him in order to work on a new school project, when you first interacted with him directly. You didn't have much of a choice back then, really. But, you kept an open mind. After all, your redheaded classmate was notorious for his outstanding skills and creativity. You just needed to find a way for you two to get along! And, well... the rest is history.

It's not like he became your best friend right of the bat, quite the opposite of that, actually. In the beginning, you were the only one babbling away about this and that, asking him various silly questions and trying to learn at least a tiny bit more about him. You quickly found out that trying to fish anything out about his personal life was not something he particularly enjoyed. For someone so closed off, his emotions were strangely easy for you to read.

You could always see it all in his eyes.

They would darken and lower onto his long fingers whenever you'd press the wrong button. On the opposite end, regardless of how neutral his face may seemed at first glance, his golden eyes would practically sparkle if you'd ask him to explain something he found particularly interesting about a math problem or some random fact about the universe. It was... cute. And, somewhat sad. Chilyoung was so very lonely... And yet, he refused to let anyone in.

You wondered why. Perhaps, today's the day you finally get to solve the elusive mystery by the name of Chilyoung Kim.

You were jolted out of your thoughts by the unmistakable deafening sound of the last bell ringing, making your heart start to race anew. Soon after, the doors to the computer class were flung open and a sea of laughing and chattering classmates filled the entire hall, eager to end their hard day of learning and blow off some steam with their friends. You paid no mind to them, though. Your eyes were too focused on trying to locate the one boy you were so desperate to see today, searching for a bright explosion of fiery red among the group.

And, there he was, coming out of the classroom as one of the last students to leave, with his pensive gaze studying a few notes he was meticulously placing into his notebook. He was always a diligent student, as you slowly learned about him. While he definitely was a smart one... that did not mean that he did not have to work hard. You could see the determination, the resignation in his eyes as he worked his way through yet another complex problem on his hand.

There was something he was working towards, something that pushed him to try as hard as he did.

Either way, you gulped, taking a single steadying breath and calling out after him once the hall grew quiet enough and everyone has already rushed off to their individual lockers. The sound of your voice crying out his name had him stopping in his tracks seemingly in an instant, his head whipping into your direction so quickly, you got a bit worried he might have strained his neck a little.

Oh Jeez... were you too loud?

You couldn't read him as he stared at you, obviously trying to figure out your intentions just as hard as you were trying to do the same with him. Well... not like you could back down from this now.

"Why are you still in school?" He asked, squinting his eyes a little in clear suspicion. "Your lessons ended hours ago."

"Uh- W-Well yes, but... I... had a very important question I needed to ask you." You stammered, suddenly feeling your cheeks burn from the realization of just what you were planning on doing. Oh, God, you were so nervous... But, a part of you refused to run. A part of you kept your trembling legs glued to the wooden floor, whispering somewhere in the corners of your mind, that there was no reason for you to be so afraid.

You wanted to get closer to Chilyoung, whatever this may mean for you two. You wanted for him to know just how much you care about him. You wanted... for him to know that he's not alone. Because you knew his heart desired for it strongly and desperately, regardless of the indifferent facade he put up in order to protect himself for some unknown reason.

"You could have just texted me, you know." He murmured, clearly taking notice of your frazzled state. You took a small breath of relief as his gaze visibly softened, his shoulders relaxing under his shirt and his attention now focused solely on you. This may not be a lot, but it's a sign that he does care. And, you needed to see that right now.

"Well... What is it? Is there something bothering you?"

Yeah, how pretty your eyes look.

You shook off the unwanted thought and clenched your hands into tight fists, deciding to try out a bit of an unconventional route to test the waters. Or, maybe, you were just trying to pull yourself together before you messed everything up. "I... Yes. But... It's a bit personal, so... I don't want for my other friends to tease me about it. And, I know that you're not that type of guy, so I can trust you with this. There's... Um, I really like one of my classmates. It took me some time to figure out my feelings for sure, but now I'm confident that I want us to be closer to each other. But, I'm terrified of pushing them away and ruining our friendship. They... mean a lot to me, you know?"

It felt weird, saying all of this in such a peculiar way. But... You just wanted to take a look at his reaction before you would make a choice to just come out and say it how it is. So, you stood there, your lips pursed into a thin line and your gaze fixed on him with an intensity you haven't felt before.

His expression remained blank for a while, his eyebrows slightly raised as he listened to your makeshift story in all its entirety. But then, you could notice his lips twitching, just enough for a resemblance of a pained frown to take its place on his freckled face, before he swiftly regained his stoic composure once more. However, you did not miss out on this small slip-up of his. And, once he did come up with a reply, his hands were clenched around his notebook way harder than they needed to be, his fingertips turning a shade of sickly white.

Chilyoung took a shaky breath, suddenly lowering his gaze onto the floor, just like he always did whenever you hit a nerve. A gesture you grew so familiar with, and yet, he still had no idea about just how perceptive you really are, when it comes to his self-expression. "...I'm not the one you should consult with about romantic relationships, Y/N. But... If that person means a lot to you, and if they truly make you happy... You should let them know that. You never know when will come the day you'll be forced to say goodbye to them, regardless whether you want to do it or not. Even if they may not understand you... You might regret keeping this truth from them for the rest of your life."

You blinked, not at all expecting to hear something of this nature from him. Your heart skipped a beat. This... felt way more personal than a mere advice for your crush.

This felt like something being spoken from a personal experience of his. And this thought... It made your hurt ache for him in more ways than one. Right now, he looked like the loneliest human alive. Chilyoung, too, seemed to catch onto the particular way that his words sounded, hurriedly continuing with a different narrative from before.

"-And, you deserve to be happy. You're... a good person, Y/N. If they make you happy, then... It's all I- It's all you need."

You took a step closer, all of your fears seemingly gone in an instant. "Chilyoung... I... I was actually talking about you. You're the one I like. That's... That's what I really wanted to talk to you about... I know you don't get along with anybody here, but I want to know more about you. And... I want you to know how much I care about you."

"You-" To your shock, he recoiled, uncharacteristically stumbling over his own legs in the process. He looked... almost terrified, staring wide eyed at you with thousands of conflictive emotions shown clearly on his usually indifferent face. "No. No, you can't. This is... No."

He sounded so hurt and scared, it almost made you question whether this was ever real or not. You never saw Chilyoung act out so openly and emotionally towards anyone before. But... you were not at all happy with the way that it happened.

"Chilyoung...? Hey... It's okay if you don't feel the same, really. I just... I wanted you to know that there's someone who really cares about you. That's all. I don't need anything in return, I promise." You tried to reassure him, slowly following him down the corridor. His reaction was... strange. It's one thing to feel upset about not being able to return one's feelings, and it's completely another to react as if you just got told the grimmest news possible.

But, your attempt did not help much. He shook his head vigorously, his breath coming out in short panicked gasps, all of his stoic facade long gone. "No, no, no, you don't understand, you can't! I can't! I can't- I can't do this! Why me? Just why the hell you chose someone like me!? Of all people!? Are you really thaf stupid!?"

His words... hurt. But, what hurt more, is just how distressed he sounded, how desperate and high his soft voice got, how utterly terrified he looked. Why is he acting like this? You reached out with your hand, at this point, disregarding everything to do with your confession and simply hoping to calm him down a little. "What are you talking about? I told you, it doesn't have to be so complicated... It's going to be okay."

A sound akin to a choked sob reached your ears as he backed even further away from you, refusing to look you in the eye, his voice dropping to a broken half-whisper. "I'm sorry. I don't have any other choice. Just- Know that it's not your fault."

Before you could utter a single word, he ran. He ran so fast, it felt like his life depended on it. And, you were left standing there, alone, confused and equally heartbroken both for his heart and your own.

The next day, Chilyoung did not come to school. And the next. And then the day after that. And the week right after. As well as the months that kept following on.

You thought you'd never see this redheaded boy again. That he'll simply remain as one of the first people that have ever made your heart flutter to life. But... it all changed once you noticed a strange app you did not remember installing onto your phone, years in the future.

Maybe, it was fate for you two to find each years down the line. A chance for you to make things right. Which is why you refused to let him go ever again.

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writeblrfantasy · 3 days

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happy lesbian visibility week to all my fellow sapphics!! what better time to highlight the lesbians in my books?

herra and augusta from the lover with five names

mora, briar, and avrielle from the red king's mystical suitors

the sapphic dancers from the order trilogy

GENERAL TAGLIST: @worldbuildng @muddshadow @nikkywrites @47crayons @directionoftime @chayscribbles @magic-is-something-we-create @rodentwrites @notwritinganyflufftoday

#lesbian visibility week #writeblr #writing #indie author #indie books #original fiction #the order trilogy #the red king's mystical suitors #the lover with five names

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password-door-lock · 4 months

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“Merry Christmas, boss!”

Your words startle Unknown from his work. For one thing, you're practically yelling, when you know that he requires silence to think well— it's as if everything he tells you goes in one ear and out the other. Moreover, he was by no means expecting you to try and celebrate that godforsaken holiday today. Unknown was elated— or as close to elated as he's ever going to get while that redhead is still breathing— when you chose not to bother him on Christmas morning. He should have known that you'd have something else up your sleeve. You truly never fail to annoy him.

“It's not Christmas anymore, prince(ss),” he reminds you in a syrupy tone. “You must be confused.” This would be warning enough for somebody with a normal set of self preservation instincts— sadly, you appear to possess very few of these, because you don’t seem remotely deterred.

“What?” You ask, sounding genuinely confused. ”How is it not Christmas? You took me on the eighteenth of March, right? And I've been counting off every single day— it has been 282 days; I’m sure of it! So how is it not Christmas?”

Unknown turns around to face you now. He gets the feeling that he isn't going to get very much work done if you're planning to continue being noisy, and (although he'd never admit it aloud) this conversation is shaping up to be far more interesting than some numbers on a screen. “You must have messed it up,” he offers, unable to contain his glee at the idea. Serves you right, for trying to waste his time like this.

“No, you messed it up,” you pout. Unknown wonders what he’d have to do to instill a healthy fear of himself in you. “Because you took away my phone. If I still had it, I would just know the date without even having to make tally marks on a napkin, and—”

“Give me the napkin.” Unknown is going to nip this in the bud right now. If you don’t have anything to write on, then you won’t have any way to record the date, and you won’t try and ambush him with poorly-timed holiday celebrations. If you wanted to plan parties, then you should have just gone into that apartment in the first place— now that you’re with Unknown, you’re going to have to start playing by his rules. Although, if you haven’t figured that out after so many months by his side, he’s beginning to think that you’re a bit of a lost cause.

“And now you're taking my planner?” You regard him with wide eyes. “This is too cruel. How do you expect me to be productive when I don't know what day it is?” But there's this gleam in your eyes that tells him you're just playing around.

“You never knew what day it was, sweetheart,” he points out, “I got you on the nineteenth of March, so you’ve been counting wrong this whole time.” Unknown doesn't think he'll be forgetting that date any time soon. It would have been the day when his plan was set in motion, if you had only followed his instructions.

“Okay, fine, you can have it, since it's wrong anyway,” you grumble, “That's actually good, since I don't have any wrapping paper for your present. Two birds with one stone.” You pick up something you've left sitting on the couch and wrap the napkin— which is, indeed, covered with hundreds of pencil marks— around it before handing the entire parcel to Unknown.

“What is this?” He demands.

“Your Christmas gift,” you explain, suddenly serious. “I wanted to get you one of those 'world's greatest boss' mugs, but since somebody won't let me order anything online, I had to make you something instead. Open it.”

“You don't get to order me around,” he warns, “Try again.”

You roll your eyes before establishing yourself on his lap, where you should probably remain, if you had time to procure any kind of gift for him without his knowledge. Clearly, he hasn’t been keeping you under proper supervision. “We're doing this now? Really? Can’t we have a single normal conversation, just one time?” You pout at him. Apparently, Unknown's glare is the only answer you need to any of your sundry questions, because after a bit of grumbling, you seem to acquiesce. “Fine, fine. Could you please open it, please? Thank you.”

“Better,” Unknown decides. Truth be told, he is a little bit curious— he's never let you out of his sight for longer than a few minutes. How did you manage to put together a gift for him without his knowledge? Whatever it is feels solid and sturdy. He pulls the hastily-crumpled napkin off of the item in question and holds it up to the light of his monitors to get a better look.

“It's a bracelet,” you explain, “I know you wear them, so I thought you'd like it better than anything else that I could make.”

Unknown turns the bracelet over in his hands. It consists of a series of interlocking brown and white squares, all of which are sharp and thick. Upon closer inspection, Unknown discovers nutrition information on one of the white squares. Is it made from candy wrappers? “You gave me garbage.”

“Upcycled garbage, yes,” you nod enthusiastically. “I've been stealing your candy wrappers and washing the insides for months, you know. I was going to make you a whole jewelry set with a necklace and everything, but I didn't have time, since you're always watching me like a hawk. This is all I could manage.”

Unknown has no fucking clue why you would waste your time on something like this. You had every opportunity to let the Yuletide pass unmarked, but instead, you spent weeks collecting trash, cleaning it, and folding it into an ugly piece of jewelry, just so you'd have something to give him. Seeing as he's never received anything for Christmas before, he doesn't know if the gifts are usually this underwhelming— but he does know what your intentions were. “Next time you want to get me something, you can just try being quiet.”

You grin, like you don't care how much he hates your gift. Like you don't expect any thanks for all the unnecessary work that you put into the stupid thing. Like you didn't do it for him to thank you— you did it because you wanted to brighten his day, even if you weren’t necessarily very successful. “Next time, tell me that before Christmas so that I can take it into account when I'm thinking of a gift.”

Unknown rolls his eyes at you and spins his chair around so that he's facing the screen again. This has been an interesting diversion, but he doesn't have the luxury of taking long breaks from the pursuit of his revenge. “I just told you. Won’t you remember?”

“No,” you grumble playfully, “Since now I don't have anywhere to write it down.”

Unknown shoves the crumpled napkin back into your hand. ”Merry Christmas, prince(ss),” he coos, patting you on the head. It’s a generous gift, all things considered— he was seriously planning on throwing that napkin away.

“Gee, thanks.” You might sound sarcastic, but you still pocket the napkin, just as he thought you would. Thankfully, after this, you give him the peace and quiet that he needs to make some progress with his work.

It isn't until you're snoring softly across the room hours later, unwilling to be separated from Unknown even while you sleep, that he finds himself absently reaching for the bracelet as he works, running his fingers over the sharp edges and smooth tops of the interlocking squares. He'd never be caught dead wearing it— it's made of garbage, for fuck's sake— but Unknown will reluctantly admit (if only to himself) that he likes the feel of it. As far as first-ever Christmas presents go, he supposes that it isn't too terrible, though he'd never say as much to you.

#I've been brainrotting for a while about what kind of gifts MC would be able to get for Unknown in an assistant au situation #Because think about it #There's no way he'd let us order stuff online #I feel like we would have to get creative lol #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #choi saeran #saeran choi

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