Blipped: Before The Snap

blipped: before the snap

title: blipped: before the snap pairing: brother’s best friend!yoongi x female reader genre: major angst !!, fluff, brother’s best friend au, unrequited love, set in the marvel cinematic universe (mcu), slow burn?, implied age gap, heavy themes, the blip is kinda fucked up if u think abt it, brother!namjoon, bestfriend!taehyung warnings: manipulative and abusive mom, family issues, y/n has a careless one night stand, mentions of death and funeral, no smut for this part yet, this part is a bit boring i'm really sorry. disclaimer: you can read this without knowing anything marvel at all. word count: 19k a/n: thank you so much for 100 notes on the preview and for 200+ followers T.T i'm crying. let me know if i should continue this because the reason this took so long was bc i'm anxious that it is not at all entertaining lol. i'm not finished with part 2 yet it's only at roughly 10k words rn. let me know what you want to see in part 2 if you're interested.

index > part 2

For as long as you know, it’s always just been you and Namjoon. 

Your parents were divorced, your mother a drunk, and your father a classic no-show. It didn’t really bother you that much, you always say. Although you didn’t mean it, you pretend you do. Not only for yourself but also for your brother. Your brother, the one having to work two jobs since a teenager. Your brother, who learned how to braid your hair when you were little because your mom never bothered to teach you. Your brother, who cried when he learned you were picked on in preschool. Your brother, who helped you with your math when your teacher gave you a D. Your brother, who drove you to sleepovers. Your brother, who scolded you when you had your first alcohol with your friends in high school, who, the next week, brought you liquor to teach you how to drink properly, saying that if you wanted to learn to drink, better that it’d be with his guidance so he knows that you will always be safe. 

Your brother, who was your best friend, your mother, and your father. 

That’s why with you, always comes Namjoon, and with Namjoon always comes Min Yoongi. 

Namjoon met Yoongi when they were in college. Being broke college students, they agreed to become roommates. Eventually, they became best friends. Platonic soulmates, the people in their university always say. They were good people with good hearts. Many were envious of their bond. Including you. You were never really good with people. While you do have your own friends, you never really had someone you can call your best friend except for your brother. You never told him this; you didn’t have to. He never made you feel alone. He even introduced you to Yoongi and the boy treated you absolutely well. At first, you doubted your friendship with Yoongi. You always thought you were just a liability—something that came as a plus-one with Namjoon that he can’t really shake off. 

But even if that thought always creeps at the back of your head, you have always had a crush on the charismatic man with the gummy smile. It was just a harmless admiration at first. And to be honest, you never really knew how you liked him in that way. With Yoongi being away from his family, he would always say that Namjoon is his brother, and you, his own little sister. And it would hurt you every time. 

It was your senior year in high school. You were in a tight little black dress, you thought it looked better on you than it collecting dust in your mother’s closet. Your friends had invited you to a house party of some football player. Namjoon didn’t like you going to parties without him knowing even if he was more than an hour away in college. And you, in your angsty teenage years, that bothered you. You wanted to not be treated like a child anymore. So you went to the party and pulled out an outfit you normally wouldn’t wear even at a party like this. 

Somehow, you think that this would convince you that you are no longer a child. But being a child, mistakes are to be made. And you made a lot of mistakes that night.

“Y/N, you look amazing!” Your friend, Sana, screeched as soon as you entered with Mina, another friend of yours who gave you a ride. “How come you never dress like this? you look stunning!” 

“Yeah, that’s what I told her too.” Mina agrees, hugging her after you.

You roll your eyes and wave a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you guys look amazing too. Where are the drinks?” 

Sana points to the kitchen. “They’re in the kitc– Oh!” She is suddenly interrupted when her boyfriend, Seojoon, hugs her from behind. “Hey, baby. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” And just like that, she bids the two of you goodbye. 

“Ugh, I hate lovers.” Mina groans and fakes a vomit. 

You laugh and point out the irony of her words. “Says the same person who’s looking to get laid tonight.” You tease as the both of you head to the kitchen to get some drinks in your system. 

“And as you should too, you bitch! If you would stop pining at your brother’s hot best friend, you would see how many guys actually have a crush on you here.” 

“Hold on, I’m not yet drunk enough for this conversation.” You hold up a hand.

The unpleasant taste of alcohol flows down your tongue as you tilt your head back and gulp down the rest of your drink.

“Okay, go.” You allow her to continue while refilling your cup.

“I’m just saying, maybe if you eliminate Yoongi from your options, you would actually get to move on from him, you know?” 

While actually considering her suggestion, you sigh. “It’s not that easy, Mina.” 

As you tell her that, you notice her eyes drifting away from you. With this, you already know that she found her target for the night. 

“Well, Y/N, it could be just for tonight. We’re seniors, yeah? Would you please enjoy yourself?” She says genuinely while holding both of your cheeks. 

“Fine, fine, go.” You tell her because you know she wants to approach the guy she saw.

“No. No. I’m not leaving you alone if you’re just going to sulk here.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“I’m fine! Just go! He’s looking at you already.” You push her. Mina groans and she kisses your cheek, grabbing her cup and heading away.

“Text me if you wanna go home and I’ll come and get you, okay?” 

“I will. I will.” You assure her, waving your hand for her to go.

As you were left alone, watching people you have classes with play beer pong, your friend’s words lingered. 

You came here tonight to be different. You weren’t Y/N who was worried about getting a scholarship to university. You weren’t Y/N who didn’t have loving parents. You weren’t Y/N who had a brother that would be angry when he knows you are at a party he doesn’t know. 

You weren’t Y/N who was hopelessly in love with her brother’s best friend, Min Yoongi. 

“It’s just for tonight.” You tell yourself as you down your cup again. 

And that probably is why, at 3 o’clock in the middle of the dark morning, you find yourself on Choi Wooshik’s bed. 

The said man was asleep beside you. A pang of pain hits your head when you open your eyes which indicates you drank more than usual. Despite having been in the influence, you still remember hooking up with the guy in the same year—and now bed—as you. 

“Y/N, you stupid shit.” You whisper to yourself.

It was the first time you had a one-night stand. You weren’t a virgin–no, that happened when you were 16 and you brought home your boyfriend that Namjoon didn’t know about. The relationship lasted for five months, which came to a halt after your sex. You didn’t really mind. You never liked him anyway. But it did hurt to be used. But this was completely different. Your mind went into a spiral. 

Did we use a condom? Oh my god, what if I get pregnant? I’m not ready to be a mother. I have a scholarship. What would happen to college? 

Gosh, what would Namjoon say if I get pregnant? He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna have to take care of me and the baby and I would be more of a burden. What would Yoongi think of you then? You will be a bad mother.

With tears practically prodding out of your eyes, you dress up and look for used contraception in the trash can—which you did not see, making you panic more. You wanted to call Namjoon to come to pick you up. 

But you got scared. You know he has an exam coming up in Taxation, which you know is a difficult course because he has been studying for it for weeks. And plus, you were scared of his reaction to your recklessness.

You thought of Mina. You could call her and ask for help. Maybe she hasn’t gone home. You scramble to look for your phone and when you did, you mentally curse. 

Oh fuck, your phone is dead. 

Wooshik’s phone, however, sits at the bedside table ready for you to use. You go through his contacts and find Mina’s name. You cuss after realizing it wasn’t there.

The problem is that you only have Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s contact memorized. There could probably be another option but you weren’t really thinking straight.

Before you knew it, you were dialing Yoongi outside of the house of Wooshik. He answers in five seconds.

“Yoongi?” You call in a whisper.

“Y/N? God, it’s like three in the morning. What’s up?”

He sounds like he just woke up, voice groggy and worried, maybe a bit annoyed too. You know he doesn’t like his sleep interrupted.

You don’t know if he heard your sobs but he probably did when his voice turns to pure worry. “Bub? What’s wrong?” He asks again when you don’t answer, using that damned nickname for you. 

“Y-yoongi– I–... please don’t tell Joonie.” You sob. 

“Where are you, Y/N?” He asks, sternly this time, sounding fully awake unlike a few seconds ago. 

You tell him what happened and he listens carefully. He didn’t say much, only asked you where you were, and said he would come to pick you up. You told him to come and pick you up at the 24-hour diner where you and Joon are regulars which eventually, Joon brought Yoongi whenever they would visit. 

Mrs. Park, a woman who worked there, gave you chocolate chip pancakes as soon as she saw you. It was your favorite breakfast. Namjoon, on the other hand, likes blueberry pancakes.

“Bad night?” She asks when she places down the pancakes. 

You nod sadly and give her a small smile. “Please don’t tell Joon about this.” You sigh. 

She shakes her head. “I won’t if you eventually do.” She tells you in a scolding tone. You chuckle and nod, not really sure if you were telling the truth.

Forty-five minutes later, Yoongi arrives. He’s wearing a hoodie and zip-up jacket over it. He looks around the diner and finds you. Your eyes meet, and you could see a little bit of frustration when he spots you. 

“What are you wearing?” He asks when he sits down in front of you in the booth. You sigh and look away. 

“What? You don’t like it?” You ask, voice down and tired to make the joke. You play with your pancakes. 

“It’s just… not your style.” He actually answers. 

He sighs. “Finish that and then drink this.” He puts down a small brown bag beside your plate. 

You were still chewing your food when you asked. “What’s this?” You open the bag and see a pack of a pill inside. 

“It’s a Plan B pill. You asked for it.” He tells you and takes off his zip up jacket. “And wear this.” He hands you the thick clothing, which you wear immediately, wanting to bask in warmness instead of the cold your revealing dress gave. 

“Hey, Yoongi. Came to take care of this brat?” Mrs. Park joked as she came to greet Yoongi, a hand on her hip. Yoongi nods. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Park.” He smiles. 

“Anything I can get for you? Pancakes? Waffle?” She asks. 

“Maybe a hashbrown and an Americano? I’m not really hungry yet. Thank you, Mrs. Park.” He answers and she replies she got it and walks away.

It was quiet after that. The both of you ate your food in silence. After you finished your pancake, you drank the pill. 

“Are you mad at me, Yoongi?” You ask him, fiddling with your fingers.

He shakes his head. “What’s with you? You don’t act recklessly like this Y/N. And doesn’t Joon know whenever you’re at a party?” 

Tears well up in your eyes again. “I-I don’t know.” You answer, head down as you stare and play with your pancakes. “I just wanted to breathe.” You mutter to yourself. You don’t know if Yoongi heard it. Even if he did, he didn’t answer.

Yoongi drove you to your mom’s house after. “Go inside.” He said. It was almost 5 in the morning, it didn’t really matter because your mom never stayed up to wait for you anyway. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know that you were out. 

You nod and remove your seatbelt. “Do you wanna come in?” You ask him. 

He shakes his head. “I need to get home before Namjoon wakes up.” 

You nod. “Alright.” You were about to open the car door when you hesitated and looked at Yoongi again. 

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You told him. “I mean it. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden to you because you’re friends with Joon.”

His brows furrowed. “What?” He looks straight into your eye.

“I mean, I know I’m just this immature and  annoying kid that comes with Namjoon as a package deal so–”

“No, no– stop. Who said you were a burden to me?” Yoongi asks seriously. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. “You were never a burden to me, Y/N. You’re a friend.” Friend, well that’s a different one–you think. 

“Even if Namjoon doesn’t exist, I would gladly be your friend. Or your older bro.” And there it is. Your heart ached once again. You are nothing but a little sister. 

You chuckle a little, trying to distract him from the tears trying to form in your eyes again. “Y-yeah. Drive safe, Yoongi.” You say as you jump off his car, leaving Yoongi wondering what he said wrong.

High school graduation. Like Namjoon, you graduated with high honors. The both of them stood there, clapping as you received your diploma. Joon was crying like the idiot you expected him to be while Yoongi held a digital camera, filming you with a gummy smile on his face.

“Okay, look here.” Yoongi holds his camera while you hold the bouquet they brought you. Namjoon is by your side, smiling proudly. “Say cheese!” Yoongi says as he clicks the picture. 

“Right, me next! Me next!” Yoongi says as he hands the camera to Namjoon. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you closer. You blush as you feel the warmth of his body in his closeness.

“Okay. One, two, three.” Joon takes the picture. You feel yourself finally able to breathe again when Yoongi lets go of you. Then, you asked one of your friends to take a picture of the three of you. 

“They look like your gay dads.” One of your friends that saw the whole ordeal says, which the three of you laugh at.

“Well, we are a family.” Namjoon agrees to which Yoongi nodded and flashed his gummy smile at you. “Yeah, my sibling roomies soon.” 

And you smile. Yoongi is family.

“Come on, we have a reservation.”

The dress you’ve put on would definitely be one of your favorites. It isn’t really in your character to like formal dresses but the memories of this one would definitely be the reason. Albeit, you do look more beautiful in it. 

You laugh when Namjoon’s piece of steak flies off his plate, he’s always been the clumsy guy you know. He had declared the night to be your family dinner coming straight from the graduation. He wanted to throw a party but you refused, opting to go for a sweet formal dinner with him and Yoongi instead.

The dinner went wonderfully. The 5-course meal was something the three of you weren’t used to but it was something nice to treat yourselves once in a while. After the meal was over, the three of you went back to your house. Namjoon and Yoongi agreed to stay the night so they can help you move your things to the three of you’s freshly bought apartment tomorrow.

That night, you find yourself sitting on the porch of your house. Your mom didn’t even greet you, she just gave you a scoff when you entered in a beautiful dress she haven’t seen before with Namjoon and Yoongi who were wearing their suits and ties. Even if you said you didn’t mind, you actually do. 

As usual, when your brother is here, your mom doesn’t even go out of her room. She stays inside and avoids your brother the rest of the time. When she doesn’t do this, it always ends up with them shouting at each other. And since they know it’s a special occasion, you know they’re just being civil with each other for you. 

The moon looked bright today, you observed. The chilling wind of the night somehow seeps through the material thin jacket, but it helps lessen it. You rub your arms with your hands and sigh. You’re finally leaving home. It should’ve been the moment you turned eighteen like Namjoon did or the moment Namjoon told you he was stable enough to take you in. Yet you told him that it’d be better to just move after high school since it’s just a few months anyway. 

It was an excuse. 

As much as you hate it, you love your mother. She isn’t a good mother. Hell. She wasn’t even a good person either. You don’t like her, not most of the time. Not when she sold your earrings that Namjoon got you on his first paycheck to pay for her vices. Not when she ruined the project that you worked on for three days straight and when she accidentally stepped on it. She said sorry but laughed. She laughed and walked away. But even with memories like that, you know that you love her. You only get one mother and unfortunately for you, that’s her. 

You’re not sad that you’re leaving her. No. But you sure as hell isn’t happy either. You don’t understand it because all your life, all you’ve wanted to do is to leave this hell and be with Namjoon. It’s as if you’ve actually found comfort in something that you hate. You don’t understand why you’re feeling this anxiety, which is why you’re now sitting outside the house that you grew up in, looking up at the sky in the middle of the cold night. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You turn when you hear Yoongi’s voice from behind. You notice that he was holding your favorite mug and had borrowed some of Joon’s old lounge clothes. The old Attack on Titan shirt was a bit too big for him as Joon is taller. He also wears Joon’s old sweatpants from high school. 

“Hi, Yoongs.” You give him a weak smile. 

“It’s cold out here, Y/N.” He says but you shrug, scooting over and tapping the space beside you. He sighs but still sits anyway. He hands you the mug he holds which you accept with a quick thanks. 

Now, you stare at the grass in front of you, holding the warm mug of hot chocolate with two hands. The front yard is a mess, weeds were growing all over and you stopped caring about it looking nice a long time ago. It was the tip of the iceberg for people outside the house. 

You sit there for a few moments in comfortable silence. “Yoongi, can I ask you something?” You don’t look at him but you see from your peripheral vision that he shifts his eyes from in front of you to you. He nods. 

You bit your lip before finally asking. “Does life get better after high school?” 

He chuckles lightly. “Post-graduation depression?” 

You pout at his teasing tone. “Shut up.” But you sigh. “I guess that’s one of them.”

He nods and stares back at the nothingness in front of you. “Honestly, it probably doesn’t get better. Life has been and always will be a big piece of shit.” 

You laugh at his honesty. “I think that all those talks about peaking in high school are bullshit.” He continues. “It doesn’t matter if you were a nerd or were Regina George in high school. Those people saying that are either stuck in high school or are bitter about their high school experience.” 

“It’s all about how you adapt to change. Life is constantly changing. You get thrown from one place to another before you even know it. Most of the time, it sucks. But what are we supposed to do? We can’t stay in comfort in one place forever. If you get stuck, you lose.” He shrugs, leaning on his palms and staring up at the sky.

“But what if I can’t adapt at all?” You look at him, watching his beautiful face gleam in the moonlight. His eyes were sparkling, plush pink lips forming a small warm smile when he heard your words.

“That’s impossible.” He claimed. He sounded so sure of his answer that it almost irritated you. How can he be so sure that he believes so much in you? 

“How is that impossible? I always fuck up, Yoongs. I’m a fuck up.” You spat. 

“Hey.” He sits up straight and deadpans. “You are not a fuck up.” 

You let out a huff and look away from him. “Yeah, right.” 

The silence after that was loud. Yoongi had decided not to press on the topic any longer, you noticed. Not because he agrees with you, but because he knows it’s not gonna help you even if he does argue about it.

“You’re not your mother.” 

At the mention of your mother, you can’t hide your surprise as you whip your head to look at him.

“And it’s okay to move on from here, Y/N.” He assures you. Before you know it, tears are pooling in your eyes. They fall one by one as you stare at your brother’s best friend. “Your home could be not this. It doesn’t have to be her. And it definitely does not make you who you are.” 

Before contemplating your actions, you find yourself lunging at Yoongi for an embrace. He lets out a quiet yelp when you catch him by surprise.

“I’m scared.” You confess and wet his shirt with your silent tears. He laughs a little and places the mug in your one hand on the ground. After he does this, he uses both his arms to embrace you, body no longer stiff and melting with yours. 

“I know, Y/N. I know.” 

And you think to yourself, why does he make it hard for you to not like him?

That same picture you took during graduation is framed at your shared three-bedroom apartment with the two older boys. With Yoongi and Namjoon being six years older than you, they were already done with their studies when you were a freshman in college. They both had their own stable jobs. Namjoon was recently hired as a junior accountant. While Yoongi had a job in Advertising. And you... you had a part-time job at a convenience store near your apartment. It was the only job Namjoon allowed you to do. You wanted to help with the rent, but Yoongi and Namjoon would always tell you to just focus on your studies, arguing that they both earn enough for the three of you. It would make you laugh and tell them how they really both act like your gay parents.

With Yoongi closer than ever, you didn’t know how you could ever move on. Not when he’s an arm's length away. Not when he looks so good in the morning when he just woke up and cooked breakfast for you. Not when he places a blanket over you on the couch when you three have your movie nights. Not when the three of you have your general cleaning day, and the music blasts as he raps his lungs out with Namjoon. Not when you see every side of him—and every side of him is beautiful to you. 

He looks exceptionally beautiful when he cooks. Namjoon would be out till late at night. You were doing your school work in the living room on your laptop when Yoongi set down a plate of some kind of ham sandwich on the coffee table.

You mockingly gasp in surprise. “Did you make me a snack?” 

He rolls your eyes. “You’re welcome. Eat it.” He says and plops down on the couch next to you. 

It took some getting used to. It was new to find the place you’re living in to always be clean or not reek of alcohol. You always have good freshly made food. Yoongi always likes to clean the place, even shouting at Namjoon from time to time because as much as a responsible man your brother is, he is clumsy and messy. Just a few days ago, Yoongi threw his boxers at his face while he was sleeping because he found them on the bathroom floor. Namjoon argued he probably dropped it on the way out of the shower. You found out that Yoongi really likes doing domestic things. He likes cleaning, cooking, and architecture-related things. He knows a lot about fixing. You know because he was the one who built and fixed the furniture you got from IKEA. And he’s also the one you call when something needs fixing. You wonder if he just learned it by fixing all of the shit Namjoon destroys over the years with him or is it a trait that has always been with him from his family home.

Out of all the things he does for you and your brother, cooking has to be your favorite. Yoongi loves cooking meat and especially steak. It’s a rare occurrence because steak is not the cheapest meal to have but it’s always a delight when the three of you have it for dinner.

Yoongi puts his whole heart into cooking. You asked him why he chose not to do it for a living instead and he said that cooking is a thing he does for people he cares about and he’d rather not do it for money.

You quickly realize that one of Yoongi’s love languages is acts of service. He cooks and cleans for the three of you. He always has time for the people he cares about. He watches the 2005 film version of Pride and Prejudice with you even if you have seen it at least twenty times with him. He drives and picks you up from school when he can. But most importantly, you find comfort that Yoongi doesn’t only take care of you, but also your brother. 

You realize that even though Yoongi may never return your affection, he cares for you nonetheless. 

And you quickly find yourself at home in both of their presence. 

“What got you smiling like that? I find it hard to believe statistics is making you happy.” 

Suddenly, a throw pillow on the couch is flying to his face. From you, of course.

“Hey, I cook for you and this is how you repay me?” He complains, fists on each side of his waist. You giggle at his childish action. 

“You and your brother are ungrateful imbeciles.” He huffs. 

“Y/N? We brought you dinner.” You snap out of your studying in the living room when Namjoon opens the door. They’ve been out for a few hours to play bowling with a few of their friends from college. Yoongi follows from behind him, which did not surprise you. Wherever Namjoon goes, Yoongi follows. But what—who, rather— follows Yoongi is the one that surprised you. 

A pretty, petite brunette girl comes in, smiling at you. “Hey.” You greet them, blocking a million thoughts running inside your head. “Still studying?” Joon asked, but your eyes were still on the girl by the doorway. “Oh, this is Jieun. Yoongi will drive her to her house in a while.” 

Yoongi will drive her home? Why? Who is she to him? Is she her girlfriend? Why didn’t he tell me? Maybe he’s just courting her. Does he like her?

“Oh.” You smile at her. “Hi. I’m Y/N. Joon’s sister.” They come in entirely. “I heard so much about you, Y/N.” She said as she sat on the couch across from where you sat on the floor. You close your books and stretch. “Good things, I hope.” You say, eyeing the two men who were setting the table.

She winks. “Oh, those boys wouldn’t tell a story without you.” You laugh and stand up, walking to sit beside her. “So, how’d you meet those doofuses?” She shrugs. “Oh, I'm Yoongi's friend from college but I work with Namjoon.” 

So she knows Yoongi first. They’re close. And if there’s one Yoongi you don’t know, it was college student Yoongi. You wonder what he looked like carrying his books and studying. Did he party and hooked up with girls a lot? You didn’t know. You haven’t lived with them then.

“Alright. Let’s eat.” Yoongi calls the two of you from the dining table. 

That night, you feel like you watch the three of them from the sideline. They told stories when they were in university. Every now and then, they give you advice about college. As you stare at them and listen, you realize that no matter how much you know Yoongi and Namjoon, you will never be at their level. Not like Jieun, who glows with maturity and class. This is what Yoongi likes, you think. Not a freshman in college who can’t get her shit together.

With heavy words running through your mind, you fall asleep with an aching heart.

You should have seen it coming. 

There must be something wrong with you, you think. Why do you only realize the truth when it hurts you? You used to brush off your feelings for Yoongi. Well, you know it’s there but you don’t really make a big deal out of it. So why is it that when you heard the words from Yoongi’s mouth, your heart sank so deep it almost felt like you were going to choke? 

“Ji-eun and I are going on a date tonight.”

He was all dressed up. Leather jacket, white tee and leather pants. He looked like the rock star of your dreams. He was putting on his shoes by the door while you and your brother ate your meal.

“Text me if you’re going home tonight.” Namjoon teases, which makes you look down on your food.

You were feeling so weird inside that you wanted to throw up. You want to scream and throw things around. You were angry at yourself. Why were you feeling this way? You always knew this day would come. You’ve been expecting–readying yourself for this. Nonetheless, it still hurts. More than you ever thought it would. 

Jieun and him were a cute couple. He probably gave her his gummy smile when he asked her on a date, or his nervous smile—it didn’t matter. He really doesn’t like you. And you have been telling yourself that since high school. So why did it hurt so much?

It was at the same time that you met Taehyung. He’s your upperclassman in college, only a year older than you. You gave in to his pleas of becoming your friend when he started to constantly annoy you the moment you caught his eye. 

The loud noise of the university cafeteria is blocked out by your earphones as you sit down on a chair. You fished out the lunch box from your bag and gently placed it on the table. When you remove the lid, a smile immediately flashes from your face.

Yoongi’s cooking has always been amazing. Ever since you complained to him and Namjoon that you had a stomach ache when you ate lunch at the school cafeteria, Yoongi had forced you to take lunch boxes from him. When you argued that you may have just over-ate that day or that you’ll just eat lunch outside of the campus, he forcefully took your backpack and shoved the lunchbox in your bag before sprinting out of the apartment to get to work.

You admire the food first. Sometimes, Yoongi would make faces with them, something he learned from Tiktok, which you always laugh at. Today was an octopus sausage, your favorite. You smile and put one in your mouth. 

“Wow. That looks so good.” You look up when a metal tray of food slams in front of you. Kim Taehyung stands there, adorably smiling at you. 

You look at him suspiciously. You had never spoken a word to the man in front of you. He was a year older pursuing the same major as you. He’s hot, popular, and you heard of his… promiscuous adventures. “Do you need anything?”

He sits in front of you. “I just wanted to say your presentation to Mr. Byun’s class was amazing.”

It seemed like a genuine compliment so you nod and smile at your upperclassman. “Thank you.” And resumed eating your food.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He asks before chomping on his broccoli. You nod. 

“I’m Kim Taehyung.” He says with his mouth full.

And that was the first time you actually spoke. Ever since then, Kim Taehyung would eat with you when spots you at the cafeteria, wave dramatically when he’s walking and sees you, and he would even give you a ride on his motorcycle to your home. And on an annoyingly bad day, you blew it. He was okay, but you didn’t know what his intentions were which made you uneasy with him.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong, Y/N.” He pouts and you can hear his feet stomping beneath the table.

“I said nothing’s wrong.” You say coldly while eating your meal.

“There is! I can totally feel the vibe from the other side of the campus. Just tell me and I’ll see how I can help.” He flashes his pleading eyes with you, placing his chin on his hands.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you already friends with like, the whole campus? Why do you keep annoying me? What’s your motive here?” You ask him, gently pushing his face away from your food in the cafeteria.

His smile drops, eyes deadpanned set on you. “I’m not here to become your friend, Y/N.” 

You stare at him, awed at the sudden change of atmosphere.

“I’m here to become your best friend.” He grins, eyes determined.

You scoff at his perseverance. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“And so are you! You scared off one of your classmates today because of your gloominess. You literally look like sadness AND anger from Inside Out right now.” 

Your mouth drops. “I look like who now?”

He giggles awkwardly, his seat slowly backing away from you. “I-I mean in a very cute way, you know? And sadness IS cute.”

You glare at him for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the utensil from your hand. “Okay, so…” You take a deep breath.

“There’s something bothering me lately.” You say.

“I knew it! Tell me. I won’t tell a motherfucking soul.” He scoots closer again then pressed his index and thumb finger together, acting like zipping his lips.

“I have a friend.” You sigh and begin. “She knows this older guy who has been like her friend since she was in high school.” You tell the story as Taehyung nods and listens attentively. “And she has had a crush on him since, like,  forever. Which she thought was just a silly little crush. And she was okay with that since she knows it’s impossible since he only sees her as a little sister anyway. But he recently got a girlfriend and suddenly she’s heartbroken. Like, crying every night heartbroken.” 

Taehyung was grinning by the end of it. “Yoongi’s dating?”

“W-what? It’s not Yoongi.” You stutter, looking away from him. “Y/N, I’ve known since like, the day he fetched you. You literally had heart eyes whenever you look at him.” 

You hit him lightly on the arm then sigh. “Fine. Yes, it’s him.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t really know what to say. All I know is that Y/N, you’re an amazing woman. I know this because I have heard like ten people say they have a crush on you on this campus. Men AND women.” Your eyes widen at the information he just drops on you so you try and ask more but his next words stop you.

”Yoongi is someone who won’t just disappear in your life.” He says softly.

Then his eyes harden, grinning wide and he slams a hand on the table. “So I say fuck it and seduce him.” 

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

You first brought him home a month after Yoongi announced his relationship with Jieun. Taehyung was helping you with a class that you were having a hard time with. It was only because you were distracted, Yoongi being one of the main reasons. But you won’t admit that to anyone, not even yourself.

“Ugh!” You groan and slam your head on the opened book. “I don’t understand. I understand it all but when the quiz comes it’s like a totally different topic!“ You complained to Taehyung who was sitting by the headboard of your bed. The relaxed guy was totally amused at your suffering, drinking the apple juice box he stole from the fridge. 

“Help me.” You pouted as you held his hand, practically pleading. You were lying beside him in the bed on your stomach, kicking at every difficult question that goes into a dead-end in your tired brain.

“I’m telling you just need to practice these questions and you will get it eventually.” He rolled his eyes. Ever the sassy bitch, Taehyung snatched his hand away from you. 

“You literally offered to teach me that’s why you’re here in my apartment.” You glare at him. “I’m literally just here to steal this juice box. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He raised his eyebrow at you. 

Your mouth drops dramatically at his words. “Okay, that’s it.” 

The books fell off your bed with thuds when you pushed them off and straddled Taehyung, who shrieks. “Hey- what the fuck!” You begin to tickle his stomach while he laughs and trashes away from you. “You bitch, stop it!” He says in between laughs, tears in his eyes. You’ve learned that a good counterattack for Taehyung’s annoyingness is his being ticklish. 

Both of your laughs fill the air and eventually you get tired of using your strength over Taehyung’s. This gives Taehyung a chance to overpower you. He holds your fists and flips you over. You gasp at the swift motion that put you under Taehyung

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” His devilish tone puts a blush on your face, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Y/N.“

The deep familiar voice pushes both of you into a halt. Your heart sinks to your stomach when you see Yoongi standing by your doorway. His mouth was partly hanging open for a second before turning into a frown and you realize how bad the scene would look from an outsider. You quickly push your friend away, making him lose his balance and fall off the bed.

“Who’s this?” 

Taehyung quickly shuffled to his feet and walked to Yoongi who was at the door. “I’m Kim Taehyung. Y/N’s friend. You must be Yoongi.” He introduces himself brightly, offering a hand to the boy at the door. Yoongi’s gaze falls to his hand, which he does not accept. Instead, he turns his gaze to you. 

“Your brother wants you to know that he’ll be working late tonight. I’ll cook dinner in a little while.” The tone in his voice is cold, familiar to the night in senior year. You nod and reply uneasily, finding the tension weird and uncomfortable. “Okay, thank you Yoongi.” He nods, eyeing Taehyung once again, then back to you.

“Tell me if your friend will stay for dinner.” He says then shuts the door. 

“Dude, your guy is scary.” Taehyung whispers, before exaggerately shivering.

“He’s not my guy.” 

Taehyung excused himself out of dinner that night. He told you he feels like Yoongi will poison his food if he does so he’ll just get some free food elsewhere. So you gave him a light smack on the head for that.

Yoongi was quiet the whole meal, which was not unusual but you sensed something was off. The atmosphere was heavy and you felt like an invisible wall separating the two of you even if you were eating at the same table and sitting across from each other. 

“How’s Jieun?” You ask him. He didn’t answer. 

“Okay. Fine. Don’t tell me about your relationships.” You pout. “You know what, you should bring her here so I can ask her myself.” You suggest and tease at the same time. 

“We broke up.” Yoongi spoke.

You froze for a second before dropping your spoon gently back to your plate. “Oh. I-I’m sorry.” You say softly. Yoongi's eyes never faltered from his food. You watched him silently. 

“Don’t be. It just didn’t work out.” He tells you. 

“But she really liked you.” You find yourself saying. 

He shrugs. “Yeah, she did.” 

How about you? Did you really like her too?

“You know, if you want to tell me anything, you can, Yoongi. If there’s something bothering you.” You say and he nods, muttering a thank you.

And then it was silent again as you both ate.

“What about you?” You were taken aback by the question Yoongi suddenly asked.. 

You laughed awkwardly. “What are you talking about?”

“What’s going on with Taemin?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “It’s Taehyung. And we’re just friends.” 

He looks at you in the eye before lightly pointing his spoon to you. “Friends don’t get caught like that in bed, Y/N.” He says before standing up with his plate and utensils. You followed him with yours too to the kitchen. He places his dishes in the sink and you do too. 

“It’s not like that. You just caught us messing around..” You sit on the kitchen counter while he starts to wash the dishes. “I mean, playing. Not that kind of messing around.”

“As long as this “playing” won’t have me buying a pill for you in the middle of the night.” Your mouth drops as he mentions your secret two years ago. You huff and cross your arms. 

“I just don’t see the big deal, Yoongi. It won’t be a something like that.” You roll your eyes at him. “I just want you to be careful.” He replies almost finished washing the dishes. 

You don’t think about your next words at all. “Well, I’m on the pill, actually. So I am being careful.” You swore you saw him freeze for a moment but recover himself in a second. Talk about TMI, Y/N.

“But I’m telling you, we’re not like that.” You repeat for the nth time. 

He stops the water running and doesn’t even look at you sitting from the kitchen counter. “And why not?” 

“Because I don’t like him like that.” And you jumped off the counter, heading back to your room, the weight of your words going unnoticed by the man you were previously speaking to. 

“Make a wish!” You exclaim as you hold the cake in front of Namjoon. The grin on his face was unerasable as he closed his eyes. After he blows it, everyone in the room hoots their cheers and claps their hands.

The party went on and on. Namjoon’s, Yoongi’s, and your friends were drinking till the end of the night. Taehyung is swaying you to the tune of the slow music, drunk off his ass. Something was wrong with him tonight and you were trying to find out what.

“Tae.” You groan as he spins you around once, his hands falling back to your waist when you turn to face him again. You wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. It wasn’t a big party. If you were in a club full of people you would have let him. 

This was the first time you have ever seen Taehyung like this. He was always a sight, inducing a refreshing aura wherever he goes. 

Not tonight, though. Tonight, his eyes burn a little darker, something about the way his eyelids droop on his face. He carries himself in caution, almost like he was too aware of his surroundings. You realize that this side of Taehyung is not someone to be brought to parties. Especially something as small as this. “What’s wrong?” You finally ask him.

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours. You know you shouldn’t be this close to a man where your brother is in the same room. Not that he is strict like that. It’s just that you were never someone to show a public display of affection–or just affection in general. Over time, you’ve learned that it’s better not to be as transparent as you can be. So you know why Namjoon was throwing you looks every few minutes. He’s finding the scenario odd. 

“I’m fine.” He mutters. Taehyung was the opposite. He likes being touchy. Skinship is one of his love languages. He likes giving hugs and holding hands down the hallway, arms swinging. And he does it with everyone. Taehyung is a spring sunshine that everyone adores. But not right now. Today, it’s as if the light in him has been turned off.

“I think we should head to my room and talk.” You whisper to his face. “You’re drunk.” Your thumb caresses the skin on the side of his neck, trying to soothe him to go with you. He hesitates for a while, looking around you. Nobody was paying attention to you two, but you know they were just trying not to make you uncomfortable. When he nods, you smile gently and drop your hands to hold his. You lead him back to your room. 

You sat him down on your bed while his gaze never strays from the floor. “I’m gonna get you some water. Be back in a sec.” You tell him and before you’re completely out the door, you hear him mutter okay.

No eyes were on you when you walked past the people and to the kitchen. A few people were there because that’s where most of the drinks are. You open the fridge to get your water tumbler. 

You shut the fridge door only to reveal Yoongi standing next to you, gaze hard and fuming. His silent and sudden appearance frightens you, the bottle in your hand almost slips from your hand.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” You whine, placing a hand on your chest.

“What are you doing?“ His gaze on you was hard, almost angry. He was using that one tone again. Something specific to you when you were doing something he thinks is wrong.

“Getting my tumbler?” Your words hang, unsure of what to reply. You move past him, gently pushing him off the way. 

His hand catches your wrist, preventing you from walking away. “Stop.” He commands. Your gaze falls at the hand on your wrist and then up to the man that owns it. 

“Dude, what the hell? What do you want?” You ask, tone rising in annoyance. 

“What was that out there? With Taehyung?” He scolds. Confusion and a little bit of anger rises within you, laced with the small amount of alcohol in your system. 

You snatch your hand away from his grip. “We weren’t doing anything wrong. It’s not like we’re the only ones dancing.”

You don’t understand why he was being this way. Lately, all he seems to be doing is be irritated with you. 

The two of you stare each other down, seeing who gives up first. It ends when he lets out a tired breath. 

With the way his expression changed, it looked like he still had a lot to say but decided to let it go.

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you two be quiet in your room.” And he walks away. 

You watch his back as he walks out the kitchen, confused and somehow annoyed at his actions. Why is he still treating you like a kid? You are 20 now, can’t he see you as an adult? 

There was a light clang pang of your metal water bottle when you slammed it down your kitchen counter. You catch your breath you didn’t even know you were holding. It was like that with Yoongi always. He always makes you feel like you can’t breathe but free at the same time. When you get in arguments with him, you want to wash your mouth with soap. You never want to be in a bad place with him. He matters so much to you.

When you entered your room, Taehyung was still there, still in the same position you left him. You set down your water bottle and glass on the side table. Pouring out the liquid in the glass, you ask your friend. “You can tell me what’s wrong.” 

You offer the glass of water to him, which he accepts with a small thanks. He sips a bit and sets it in his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. You sat beside him and placed a hand on his back that was slouched gently. 

“Or you can sober up first.” You pat his back. “Your choice, buddy.” 

It was silent for a while as you both sat side by side. You stare at the wall, basking in the tense silence you both created. That was until you heard the small sniffs from your friend. Barely audible sniffs that eventually turn into sobs. You feel his body shake beneath your hands and you see his hands firmly gripping the glass. 

“He…” Taehyung hands you the glass of water which you quickly set down before it breaks in his grip. He doesn’t look at you at all time, not wanting to make you see him crying. “My dad, he’s gone.” 

“Oh, Tae.” You embrace him, wrapping your arms around him. He rests his face on your shoulder as he sobs. You couldn’t help but be moved by his emotions, tearing up and you caress his back. 

You know that Taehyung was from a far province, he has a loving mother and father. He grew up well with a father who managed a factory before he got sick and bedridden. His mother, a beautiful loving housewife who had a small bakery. Financials weren’t an easy subject for them. When his father got bedridden, her mother had to cut her time in the bakery to take care of her husband and younger kids, lowering their family income more. Thankfully, his father had already set aside a bank account for Taehyung’s education before he even reached age, one that his grandparents had contributed in as well in honor of him being the first grandchild of the family. 

“Why haven’t you come home?” You asked him. You feel him shake his head. “I can’t.” He sniffs. “Because if I go then it’d be real.” 

You sigh, not knowing what to say. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” You suggest instead. “We can take the bus tomorrow morning.” 

“You’d skip classes?” He chuckles bitterly, his crying pausing as he lifts his head to be at the same head level as you. You never skip class. You laugh and roll your eyes. “I will. For you.”

“Damn. I wish I recorded that. I would show it to the whole school. The Ice Queen, will do anything for silly old me.” He jokes and sniffs, making you frown and hit his shoulder. And he finally smiles.

“Kim Y/N, you told me that you have a few days off. I didn’t know you were gonna skip classes!” Namjoon scolded you, his jaw clenching like it always does when he’s angry.

You hung your head low. Apparently, when you were gone with Taehyung, Namjoon came to know that you skipped classes when your friend in one class dropped by to give you some notes that you asked for. You should’ve asked her to send it by mail instead.

“And to do what? Hang out with this Taehyung guy?” Namjoon was fuming and you understood why. You bite your lower lip and look up at him.

“I’m sorry, Joon. I should’ve told you the truth.” You reply with a trembling voice and teary eyes.

Yoongi watches from the edge of the couch. When you came in, the two were already sitting in the living room. Namjoon was looking pissed and Yoongi just stared at you. 

So here you were, a backpack full of used clothes on the floor in front of a now fuming standing older brother.

Your brother's eyes softened when he saw how scared you were. “I’m sorry for yelling.” He sighs and picks up the backpack that you dropped. 

“It’s not about skipping. I don’t give a shit about that. You can skip all you want as long as you graduate, Y/N. It’s just that you know that I don’t like you lying to me.” He hands you your backpack which you accept.

He was right. Trust for each other is what made you two hang on up to this moment. And you shouldn’t ruin it.

“I’m sorry.” You say and nod, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. “I’m sorry, Joonie.”

Your brother hugs you, his tall frame looming over yours. You wrap your arms around him. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry.. Have you eaten?” He breaks off the hug and looks down at you.

“I’ll go get a plate for you. Go clean up.”

In your room, you close the door behind you and lean your back on it. You sigh. You’re 20. You should be starting to make adult decisions. Maybe you are really just still a kid. 

When you’re done preparing yourself and making your way to the dining table, Namjoon wasn’t there. It’s just Yoongi reading a book. His ebony hair was still a bit wet from the shower he had. A few strands of dried hair falling over his brow and just above his eyeglasses. He looks up for a second to shoot you a glance before turning his attention back to his book. 

“Hey.” His sweet deep voice greets you. 

“Hey,” you reply and sit across from him. “Why are you reading here?” You ask him and pick up the utensils in front of you. 

The food looks delicious but you weren’t really that hungry. The bus ride with Taehyung was spent talking, napping, snacking, listening to music, and snacking again. Still, food at home is different. It was your favorite thing to go home to–Yoongi’s cooking.

“Joon went out to buy something.” You realize this doesn’t answer your question but you chose to ignore it with a huff.

“Did you have fun on your little trip?” He asks, still not looking up from his book. You shrug. “It was okay.” Your back rests on the chair, shoulders now slumped while playing with your food. 

“Why do you do that?” Yoongi asks again, flipping a page on his book. It takes a second for you to answer in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Why… do you never tell me things?” He asks softly and you wish you could see his eyes beneath the strands of his hair. 

You chuckled nervously, confused at the sudden heavy atmosphere. “What do you mean? I do tell you things, Yoongi.” 

The man in front of you clicks his tongue. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Can you stop doing that? Just say what you want to say to me.” You drop your utensils on the plate and cross your arms.

Yoongi’s book closes with a loud thud and it lands on the table when he tosses it lightly. “You don’t tell me shit anymore. It’s like you've been keeping me at a distance for months. I’ve been wondering what the hell I’ve done, Y/N.”

You fix your gaze on the man in front of you. You feel the pent up frustration flowing through him. He has been feeling this way for months? 

“I-” You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Why do you keep thinking that it’s only you who cares enough for the two of you? Yoongi has always been there for you as a friend. It’s not what you wanted but he was everything you need in a friend. 

He was right. Back in high school, you would even text him at least three times a week. You would ask him any random thing and tell him about your day. He always responds right away which makes your heart jump every time. 

Ever since he started dating Jieun and even when they broke up, you’ve been putting all your energy into everywhere else but him. You started going home late so you don’t have to eat dinner with him and on weekends, you always hang out with Taehyung instead of hanging at home when you usually watch movies with Namjoon or Yoongi. You didn’t realize he noticed or even cared.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You stammer before bowing your head. You try to think of an excuse for your actions. You can’t just tell him it’s because you’ve caught feelings for your brother’s best friend and you’ve been trying to move on from him on your own. 

He sighs and his tensed shoulders fall. “It’s.. it’s fine. Just tell me what’s wrong.” He says and leans forward, elbows on the table. 

You shake your head. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Yoongi.” 

“Then why avoid me?” He replies fast, a slight hint of desperation in his voice. “Have I made you uncomfortable in any way? Do you not like living with me?” 

You chuckle and bite your lip. “You can never make me uncomfortable, Yoongs.” You pause. “It’s just weird for me right now. And it’s got nothing to do with you or anyone. It’s just me. And I’m trying to figure it out myself. I’m sorry if I’ve been avoiding you.” 

He sighs. “Okay. But you know you’re my best friend too, right? You’re family to me too.” 

You nod and give him a warm smile. “I know. And you are to me too.” 

Namjoon could never stay mad at you. The two of you went back to normal after a few days. You never told him the reason why Taehyung and you made that trip. You only told Namjoon your friend needed support back home. Why you never told him the whole truth, you don’t know why. Parents have always been a taboo subject to you and Namjoon. Growing up, he didn’t like to talk about parents. 

When you were younger, you used to ask Namjoon if he knew your father. He would smile sadly and change the topic. Once, he answered he didn't know. But you know he was lying. You stopped asking when one night when he was a sophomore in high school, after he had accompanied you to a meeting with teachers in school, you found him crying in his bed. 

You didn’t know why he was crying and you didn’t want to ask him. Namjoon has always shown you his tough side. Your strong older brother was crying but your feet stayed planted on the floor. Silently, you slid to the floor, listening to his sobs and cries.

And when he finally stopped, you peek in his room again. That’s when you realize that he had been clutching a poster you made in school. It was a poster of appreciation to your parents or guardian. You didn’t know who to put and you didn’t really want to put your mother because she made your brother angry that day. And you liked Namjoon better than your mother. So you drew Namjoon instead. 

So after placing a kiss on his cheek on his sleeping form, you left his room and never asked again. 

“Mom, what are you doing here?” You asked as you opened the door and found your mother looking like shit. More than she ever had been. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was staring at you with a weird sloppy smile. 

You were home alone, both Yoongi and Namjoon at work. She huffed and pushed you out of the way. “Hey!” You complain as she continues to let herself in. 

“You’re not welcome here, Mom! Get home before Namjoon finds you here.” 

She flops herself on the couch and you wince when you get closer to her. Not only does she look like she hasn't showered for days, you can also smell she hasn’t showered for days.

“Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.” She mocks while rolling her eyes. “What’s so great about that kid? Just because he has money now, he can treat me like shit?” She complains, finger pointing to her chest. You look at her in disbelief. 

“Mom, can you please just leave?” You beg this time, not really wanting to deal with her at all. This is the first time she’s been here. As usual, she’s drunk off her ass. 

The woman glares at you before standing up. For a moment, you thought she was gonna head to the door. But you know better that this woman is not that easy. She shifts her walk to the television. Just below it lies all the framed pictures of you. Your high school graduation picture, Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s college ones, and the picture of the three of you in your high school graduation.

“Look at all of you.” The bitterness in her tone is evident. “All happy now without me, aren’t you?” 

Anger flows through your veins. How dare she act like this at your own home? “Mom, leave it.” You demand this time. She looked back at you for a second before picking up the picture of the three of you. 

You step closer to her, about to retrieve the picture frame but she moved it away from you. “Can you just tell me what the hell you’re doing here? And how the hell did you even find us?” You say as you reached harder and snatched the frame from her hands. 

“I have my ways.” She shrugs and moves to sit on the couch again. 

She sighs. “I just miss you, poochie coo.” You’re disgusted as you watch her pout and lay on your couch like she’s back at home. “Haven’t you missed your momma?” 

You gave her a groan in disgust. 

And just like that, she began rambling on like she used to when the two of you were alone.  You’ve tuned out all of it as you stayed standing by the television, gripping the picture frame in your hand. Knuckles were turning white as your lips trembled in anger. She still can't act like this. You’re free from her. This isn’t her home anymore. This is your home. She can’t put her dirty paws in it and trash the place.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” 

She stops talking, staring at you with a brow raised. Instead of answering, she kept on rambling on how hard life has been for her since you left that hellhole of a house.

“We left you because you deserved it!” You scream and throw the picture frame. You hear the glass break but you don't care. Tears fall from your red face. “You’re a bad fucking mom and an an even worse person. Namjoon doesn’t give a shit about you and you know exactly fucking why!” 

You’ve never been angry at your mother. You’ve always loved her. No. You tolerated her. But what you can’t tolerate is her being at your home and walking over you. This is your safe place. You’re no longer her doormat.

That shut her up. You’ve never raised your voice at her. Her countenance couldn’t be deciphered, giving you a flat face, but with years of experience, you know she’s angry. And it wasn’t the anger she gives Namjoon when they fight. It’s a different kind of anger. 

“J-just…leave us alone from now on, please.” It was let out in a whisper that you don’t even know if she heard. 

She stands up and walks over to you. You know what comes next. You know it all too well.

“You’re raising your voice now to me too? You’re leaving me too?” The tears in her eyes were too familiar that you find it both disgusting and heartbreaking. She stares at you and places a hand on your cheek. The anger on your face quickly subsides. Her thumb caresses your skin. Her hands are rough, which is a texture you’re used to. “Like your father and Namjoon?” 

Like it was second nature, you fold into her hand. “I…” You’re unable to answer, shaking your head.

“You know what your father did to me, Y/N. You know. And I’m trying. I’m gonna be better. I promise. So don’t leave me, please.” You sigh, tired of hearing these words. You sigh and you know it’s just going to be another lie. You sigh but you nod. 

“Y/N?” 

You didn’t even hear him come in. Yoongi stands there, fresh from work. His eyes go back and forth at the two of you in a way that you can’t decipher. Within three seconds, his face hardens. You don’t understand why. You only watch as he heads to the door and opens it again. He stands by it while holding the knob and then turns his body to face your direction again. 

He stares hardly at your mother, eyes burning and never drifting away from her. 

“Get out.”

Your mom drops her hand from your face. She huffs then chuckles in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t hear me the first time? Get out of our house.” His voice is louder this time, but he’s not shouting. No. Yoongi never raises his voice when he’s mad. That’s one thing you know about him–one thing you love about him. He’s calculative and calm when he’s mad. There’s no screaming. No fighting. He tries to understand. And when he doesn’t, he walks away for a while.

The woman beside you looks at you for help and you try and stutter out a few words. But before you can really say anything, Yoongi stops you. He still doesn’t look at you. 

“Don’t look at her. She’s not gonna help you. So take your wrecked ass out of my apartment.”

She stares at the two of you in disbelief before chuckling again bitterly. “Fine. Rude fucking kids. Got a whole place to themselves and think they fucking rule the world.” She looks at you then wraps her arms around you. You cringe.

“Be careful, darling. We’re two peas in a pod, you and I. I just don’t want you to end up like me. That’s why I don’t want you to leave me, okay? I love you.” She whispers in your ear. 

I just don’t want you to end up like me. These words repeat in your head. And you don’t even notice as she leaves. You just stand there right where she left you, unable to lift your feet of the ground. You don’t see her walk out the door. You don’t see Yoongi walking over to you in concern. You don’t notice as Yoongi sits you by the couch in silence. You don’t hear Yoongi calling your brother in concern. You don’t realize he disappears for a moment to shower and get out of his work clothes. You only realize when he’s now beside you on the couch in his comfortable fluffy sweatshirt he loves.

Yoongi just sits there beside you. He doesn’t touch you or talk to you. He just sits there, letting his presence be known at all times. 

When you snap back into reality, you call for him. “Yoongi?” 

You don’t look at him when you ask the question that came up in your mind. “That wasn’t love, was it?” 

He smiles sadly before shaking his head. 

“No. Y/N. I don’t think so.”

Before you were ever to miss your best friend, he was back in the city to annoy you. The two of you were studying peacefully in the university library as Taehyung as you to join him cram his missed works because of his sudden trip. 

“Did something happen while I was gone?” Taehyung whispers, making you furrow your brows in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, your gaze still focused on the paper you were writing on. 

He sighs barely audibly. “Nothing. You just look kind of down… or something.” 

You shrug. “It’s nothing. Mom dropped by our apartment unannounced and it shook us up. Even Yoongi.” Taehyung didn’t press on the topic any further, focusing back on his own work. You were glad he doesn’t.

It was silent until you feel the vibration of your phone in your pocket. This bothered you because you’ve put it on study mode. Which means that your phone was set only to receive notifications from your brother and Yoongi. You fished out your phone from your pocket to look.

joon is on his way to ilsan. angry.

It was Yoongi’s text. You mutter a curse under your breath but it does not slip by Taehyung. He peeks at your phone and his eyes widened. “I-I need to go.”

“You need me to drive you?” He asks and you nod immediately, worry filling your eyes.

The two of you quickly pack your things up and rush out of the library. Taehyung guides you to his motorbike but not before throwing your things inside his dormitory. You don’t even notice that Taehyung was the one who put your helmet on because you were thinking too much to do it on your own in a quick motion. You hop behind him and wrap your arms on his waist. 

“All set. Hold tight.” He orders before driving away. 

On the way, you call Yoongi. 

He answers in two rings. “Yoongi!” You scream to the phone so he can hear you through the traffic. “Y/N? Are you on the road?!” He asks the obvious. “Yes! I’m on Taehyung’s bike!” You answer. 

“You– I’m already on the way to stop him–or hold him back. I don’t know. Get back to your school, Y/N!” There is anger and worry in his voice. 

You roll your eyes like he could see it. “Well then, you shouldn’t have fucking told me!” 

Namjoon voluntarily seeing your mother specifically is never a good thing. It always ends badly. You have to be there for your brother. You always have to be there.

Because you know he’d be there too.

“Fuck, okay. Just drive safe. I’m almost there. Tell Taehyung not to rush on the road.” Those were Yoongi’s last words before he dropped the call. 

Screams.

The first thing you heard from outside the house was your mother’s voice. 

You hopped off the motorbike and handed Taehyung’s extra helmet to him. “Go.” He nods. 

The door swung open before you even knock, revealing your brother’s best friend with a worried face. “Y/N’s here.” He sighs. 

“Oh, thank god. Can you talk some sense to your brother? He’s being so dramatic.” 

Alcohol. The first thing that your senses take in was the smell of alcohol, then it was cigarettes. Every corner of the place that used to be your home reeked of vices. The living room was a mess more than it ever was before. Clothes and bottles were scattered around everywhere. But the woman standing in the middle of it was the biggest mess of them all. 

“Namjoon, let’s go home.” You say under your breath, tired.

“Right. Go back to where you came from and stop bothering me, little fuck.” Namjoon’s jaw clenches, burning eyes never straying from the woman in front of him. 

“You never go back to our home. If I even hear you step foot a block away from our apartment, I’ll call the police. Fuck you.” 

“You can’t keep her away from me.” She laughs in between her words like a maniac. She steps closer to Namjoon, her height making her raise her head to look him in the eye. “She’s my child.” 

The frown on his face disappears into an astonished smirk, but the moist eyes was a dead giveaway. You know him well enough to know what he’s thinking. She does not treat him like his child. She never did.

Before Namjoon could reply, you speak up from where you stand. 

“You’re not my mother.’’ You spat, finally looking at the woman you gave birth to you. She looks at you with a stunned–no, offended look on her face. Dare, it even left her speechless for a moment.

“Namjoon.” You shift your eyes back to your brother and call him again, louder this time.

“That’s right. Go call your brother who wants to act like a victim. Every fucking tim–” 

“Shut the fuck up!”  You interrupt your mother, making her pause her words. 

She looks at you with disdain in her eyes. 

“Namjoon’s your child too.” You callously spat, stepping closer to your supposed family. “He raised me. All on his own. You should be thanking him. You should be worshipping him, kissing his feet, and apologizing to him.” 

You don’t know how you were stopping yourself from crying. You feel like you could be passing out at this very moment, but you don’t. Instead, you stand your ground, gathering all the lost courage and tell your mom the words you always wanted to say, words never wavering and dicted with conviction. This time, no tears were spent for your mom. 

“I despise you.” And you grab your brother’s hand to leave.

Namjoon gets to his car and looks at you. You shake your head and point at Taehyung who was waiting patiently outside. 

You know your brother will cry and you wanted him to have his privacy. 

Before you even touch the helmet Taehyung was handing to you, Yoongi grabs your hand.

“You’ll ride with me.” And so you went with him, giving Taehyung a look of apology. Your best friend doesn’t mind, giving you a thumbs up before hopping on his bike.

“I’ll head back to the dorms!” Taehyung shouts while you follow Yoongi to his car. 

You sat on the passenger’s seat quietly the whole ride, not once looking at Yoongi. Instead, you basked in the comfort of his presence, trying to get your mind off the whole ordeal earlier. 

The drive back to the apartment was too fast to leave you alone with your own thoughts and Yoongi’s presence enough. You almost feel disappointed when you make a turn on the familiar street. 

It felt normal, the ride. But the realization only comes when the engine of the car shuts off and he lets go.

Yoongi was holding your hand, the other effortlessly on the wheel.

Silence fills the car. You tell yourself to speak up because you do want to tell him something. But you don’t find the words in your head. The longing to feel his touch longer than this moment. 

“Yoongi.” 

“Y/N.”

His gaze falls on the hand that is still wrapped in yours. Then it goes back to your face. You look back at him, the atmosphere in the car getting heavier by the second. For a moment, you allow yourself to let your eyes drift to his lips. But you avoid it intently, moving back to his eyes. His dark eyes that seemed to hold a lot of thoughts. You attempt to speak up, but didn’t continue as you hear the slam of your brother’s car door.

He squeezes your hand three times, before letting it go.

What the hell was that?

Taehyung and you were eating ice cream on a park. Your thighs resting on your friend’s lap. Taehyung has learned that there are rare times you get clingy to someone you’re close with. 

“So, you’re saying you two are holding hands the whole ride back home?” You nod.

He gives you a look.

“What?” 

He was still giving you the look.

You slap his arm. “What’s with the look?!” You ask, irritated.

“That’s sus. That’s very sus.” He says before staring ahead and licking his ice cream.

You were about to say something but you sense someone looking at you at your peripheral vision. Turning you head, you found a familiar girl in a cute white dress staring. She waves at you. 

You quickly remove your legs from Taehyung’s and wave back at her while she makes her way to you. God, how is she this pretty? 

“Jieun!” You greet her and she chuckles at your enthusiasm. 

“Y/N! How have you been? And is this your boyfriend? He looks handsome!” 

Your eyes widen and your hands shoot up to wave in defense. Taehyung snorts. “She wishes.” 

“This is my college friend, Taehyung. I’ve been doing fine. How about you? I heard about you and Yoongi. I’m sorry. If you want me to kick his ass for you, I will.”

She shakes her head. “Oh! No. Yoongi and I weren’t serious or anything. It was just casual.” 

“Oh. I thought since I haven’t been seeing you around the house…” 

She nods and laughs. “I got promoted. Yeah, to be honest, it’s been a pain directly working under the boss. Your brother is lucky he only stays in the office. The hours are fixed. Now I don’t even have time to hang around anymore.”

“Then I won’t be seeing you at home any time soon?” You ask her, pouting.

“I don’t think so. But I sure will try!” Her phone rings. “Speaking of the devil. Gotta get these papers back to the boss. Bye! It was nice to meet you Taehyung!”

She runs off. But not completely before looking back at the two of you.

“I’m sure Yoongi wouldn’t mind keeping you company at home, Y/N.” She winks.

And Taehyung repeated slaps your thigh.

“Oh my God, what does she mean by that?!” 

-

The dress you wore was simple but pretty. It was a two-piece white satin dress with a square neckline. It matched with the black pumps you had. Taehyung had helped you choose the outfit because you had to look nice and you agreed with him.

It was your birthday, after all.

You wanted to opt for a private dinner with all the people you care about. Something intimate and simple just for the four of you. But Taehyung had to nag you to have a party so he can host and possibly get wasted. He couldn’t convince you but when Namjoon had heard the idea when Taehyung was in your apartment convincing you about it, he was exhilarated. What else can you do but agree?

The smell of the club fills your nose. Goosebumps arise from your skin as the breeze from the air conditioner hits you as you enter the place Namjoon has rented a table for the day. Mrs. Park was the one who recommended the place to Namjoon. It seemes that the woman had friends in Seoul. Ms. Wong, the owner of the place and the friend of your favorite diner’s waitress-slash-owner, agreed to give you a private room today for a very friendly price so you could celebrate your 21st birthday. 

Taehyung, as the self-proclaimed creative of the group, adorned the tables with colorful decorations. White and Pink balloons filled the tables and floor. He also personally got some random student from school to DJ for the night. Knowing your best friend, he probably got him to do so as a favor. 

You have invited your high school friends and Taehyung invited some of your mutual friends and acquiantances from the university. You told Namjoon he can invite some of his friends from work too. 

“And there’s the birthday girl!” 

The party hasn’t even started yet and Taehyung already has a cup of most definitely not water in his hand. You were about to scold him but was interrupted when your guests scream your name and greet you one by one. They all take turns to greet you, give you presents, and take pictures with you. 

When they were all done, god, were you exhausted. 

“Alright, everyone, you can go have fun. Drink or eat. I need to talk to my friend.” Taehyung pouts as he pulled you away from the people and sat you by the table.

“Have you eaten? We should’ve come together.” Taehyung slides you a plate of carbonara. 

“I thought Namjoon was gonna come with me but he had a slight emergency at work.” You say as you take a fork of the pasta in your mouth. 

“You went alone?! Why didn’t you call me?” His eyes widened as he interrogated you while you continue to eat.

You shake your head. “I didn’t come alone.” 

His eyes lit up. “You didn’t?”

As if on cue, the chair beside you from your left slides and someone sits down. “She didn’t, kid.”

Yoongi gazes at your friend who looks at you with raised brow and a sly smile. You pinch him before the person who came with you get any ideas. 

You turn to Yoongi. “What took you so long? You said you were just going to park.” 

He plasted a smile on his face, resembling a cheshire cat. “I had to pick something up.” 

You were curious to what was it but decided not press any further. Instead you ask, “do you know what time Namjoon will arrive?” 

He shrugs. “He said he’s on his way with some officemates.” He pulls the plate of food from you and grabs your fork with his left hand. You feel your cheeks turn pink not because he used the same fork you used. (Even if it was that, you still weren’t used to the domestic treatment of Yoongi to you.) You were blushing because his arm rests on top of your chair, making it seem like his arm was around your shoulder. You don’t think he notices how small the distance is with the two of you right now.

“You told me you ate already.” He gives you a side eye. He did ask you at home if you did but you answered yes. 

“I just thought I could grab a bite here instead of making you cook before coming here.” You reply honestly. 

Taehyung was watching the interaction like it was his favorite tv show. Such a shame that someone calls him to the dance floor. He doesn’t even bother ruining the moment and leaves the two of you on the table without a word. 

“Finish your food before you go drink.” Yoongi orders rather softly before handing you your fork back.

“Finish your food before you go drink.” You repeat in a mocking voice while taking the utensil in your hand. He doesn’t press on your teasing but you hear him tsk in return. 

In contrast to the loud music and colorful lights, the two of you sat in silence while you share a plate and ate. You pray to God for someone to save you from being alone with him before you explode. 

God must be real, because just as you took your last bite, you hear your brother’s voice calling you.

He wore a black coat over his white shirt, neck tie removed and a few buttons left open. By his side were who you assume were his friends from work. You can only recognize Jieun from them.

“Joonie!” You jump off your chair to wrap your arms around your brother. 

“Woah.” He stumbles a little from the weight you unanticipatedly put on him. He pats your back. “Happy Birthday, ugly.” He greets you. You giggle and let go. 

“Hi, Jieun! You came!” You say before hugging her as well. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And it was totally my fault that your brother was late.” You release her from the embrace, looking at her curiously. “So I came to apologize for that too. He had to fix a mess at work.” She pouts and you laugh and wave a hand. “It’s fine. As long as you’re here now.” 

Jieun hands you a paper bag and you thank her. Namjoon introduces you his other friends, who gave you gifts as well. You tell them they didn’t really have to but thank them anyway. 

The beautifully delicate woman’s gaze falls on the person standing behind you. Her eyes lit up in amusement. 

“Yoongi. You’re here too.” She acknowledges him. 

The man now beside you looks away, not meeting the eyes in front of him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugs. 

“Yeah, of course. The best friend.” You couldn’t help but sense a tone of bitterness in Jieun’s voice, making your doubt that they ended on good terms. 

You laugh awkwardly to remove the tension in the space. “Hey, Joon! I’m gonna go drink with my friends, if that’s alright?” You shift your gaze to Joon who was talking to his friends, not seeing the exchange that took place. He nods at you and tell you to enjoy. 

After with three mix of drinks Taehyung had given you, you were dancing the night away. “Twenty fucking one!” Your best friend screams. 

You were dancing with him before he was whisked away by some random man you don’t know. Now, you were dancing with your friends from high school and a few from university. Eunwoo, your seatmate in Statistics, being one of them. He was being close to you all night. You didn’t mind. He wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, just dancing and vibing closely to you. You mostly dance with Mina anyway. You forgot how much you missed her.

“So, that hot best friend of that brother of yours, huh?” She shouts while swaying her hips to the music. 

You furrow your brows and leaned in to her ear to let her hear you better. “What do you mean?” 

“Saw you two close together. Is something finally happening?” She teases, poking your exposed stomach from the crop top. You swat her hand away and shake your head. 

“He’s not interested in me like that. That was nothing.” You explained, partly convincing yourself as well. 

She raises a brow. “Did he tell you that?” She asks you. 

“What?” You ask even if you heard her clearly.

She gave you a lop sided grin. “Did you ask him if it meant nothing? Because if it meant nothing, why was he watching you more than your brother tonight?” 

Your eyes immediately search for the man in the black and white baseball jacket, finding him drinking quietly in your table, the same spot he sat at earlier. When you meet his eyes, he immediately looks away. 

“See?” She whispers,

“He’s just worried about me.” You reason. 

“You sure about that? Do me a favor and stay close to that cutie from your class all night. Let’s see how he reacts then.”

Then a very sensual song plays. “Oh, you know this song?!” Eunwoo leans in your ear and shouts. You nod at him and laugh. “Yeah.” He didn’t have to scream if he was gonna lean in. 

“You wanna dance with me on this one?” He asks, smirking. You hesitate, about to look around to find your brother if he might see. 

“She does want to!” Mina answers for you before you can and pushes you to the man, making you land on his chest. Steady hands catch your arms before the both of you stumble. You feel your cheeks heat up at the close proximity of your face to him when you finally look up. 

“Woah there.” He whispers, and you see the way the lights hit his face. 

Eunwoo is attractive. In fact, he’s the most attractive guy in your class. It seemed that he’s interested in you, too. It wouldn’t be bad to indulge yourself in the presence of another man if the man you were eyeing won’t ever be yours, wouldn’t it? 

Maybe if you look at the other options, you would forget the unattainable one. 

Shaking your head off the thought, you push yourself off of Eunwoo softly. There shouldn’t be an option at all in the conversation. No one deserves to be a rebound or a choice.

First of all, you have to stop what you feel. 

You look back at the table to find the spot you were watching empty. Where did he go?

“Actually, Eunwoo. I think I’m gonna go and have some fresh air.” You admit. 

Eunwoo’s face fell. “Oh. Did do I something wrong?” He asks, suddenly looking small and scratching the back of his neck. 

“No, no.” Your hands shot up to deny his question. “You didn’t! I just feel stuffy all of a sudden.”

Then a genuine look of worry paints his face. “Are you okay? Do you need me to go with you?” 

You shake your head, “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute!” You add before making your way out of the dancing crowd, leaving your friends and Taehyung throwing it back in a circle of people. 

The sigh escapes your mouth when a whip of air hits your face as you stepped out of the establishment. 

“Didn’t like dancing?” 

Your head whips to the direction of the voice. There he stands, back resting on the wall and hands on his pockets. It was a cold night, you realize as the hair on your arms rise. Your hands shot up immediately to hold your arms in a cross position. 

“It’s cold out here. Why don’t you get back inside?” He asks another question before you even answer the first one. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You snort before taking your place beside him. The same spot that felt so comfortable to you. Next to him, you feel safe yet unknown. You know you belong there but as what? As a friend? As a sister? As a lover? And you know it’s hardly the last one. But what else can you do but dream?

“I have a jacket. You, however…” He points out the obvious without looking at you. He was right. The dress you wore was showing too much skin for the cold not to affect your body in the most it can. But you can hardly think about the cold at the moment so you don’t give him an answer.

Silence filled the air for a few minutes. It’s always like this with Yoongi. Silence, comfort, and safety. It was never quiet with you. Not in your life. But whenever Yoongi come into it, it became quiet. He has made you feel at peace. He has made you feel warm. 

The warmth he offered sometimes hurt, you admit. But it was not his fault. You are greedy. You want more of the warmth than what he can offer. But you would take this hurt everyday than go back to the chaos and noise that you have known before him. And tonight, you feel you can allow yourself to be more greedy.

“Do I look pretty tonight?” The words come out of your mouth before you even think. The beating heart in your chest seemed to want to run away from your brain with how fast it went.

“What?” Yoongi undoubtedly found the question unusual as you have never asked him questions like this. You weren’t one to worry about your appearance. They know that you’re definitely insecure about a myriad of things but you refrain from letting people know about it. Indulging the people you care about your problems is just not you. 

“I’m asking you if you think I’m attractive.” You repeat, cheeks blushing and eyes set in the other direction. Where you’re getting your confidence right now, you’re not sure where.

“Tsk.” He cocks his head and began to remove his jacket. “You are attractive.” 

“No.” Your hands are now by your stomach, fiddling and playing together. “I’m asking if you think I’m attractive.”

There was a pause in the air for a few second. It seemed like he was thinking. “Come here.” 

When your eyes lift up, you find him offering his jacket to you. He was holding it by it’s shoulder part, the back facing him and ready for you to slide your arms into the empty sleeves. A black long sleeve shirt was left of on him, complementing his growing ebony hair that was reaching the back of his neck. He was yet to get a haircut and you’re thankful for that.

“My arms are gonna die, get in.” He pleads and you comply. You’re disappointed he doesn’t answer the question but you decide not to press into it further due to sudden embarrassment.

You step in and turned around, sliding your right arm first and then your left. You fix the jacket on you as you look straight ahead the empty sidewalk. This was his favorite one. The black one adorned with white details of dragons on the chest and the sleeves. 

“Put your hand in the right pocket.” He instructs and you did. You feel something box-like and fish it out of the garment.

It was a rectangular black velvet box not bigger than your palm. “Wha–”

“It’s your present.” He interrupts your confused reaction.

Inside the box was a gold necklace with a pendant not bigger than half an inch. It resembled a butterfly. The wings were carved by horizontal lines but was connected to four tiny diamonds on each wing’s inner part. 

“Is this real?” You ask, eyes squinting at the necklace now in your hand. 

“Are you saying I’m cheap? Of course, it is. I had my friend from work get it. That’s where I stopped by before going in.” He answers and takes the necklace from you from the back. 

Before you knew it, his arms were in your peripheral vision, ready to put the necklace on you. He clasps it around your neck and you feel the cold pendant on your hand, admiring it. 

Cold hands turn you around by the shoulders, making you face him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

And he smiles. His hands are still on your shoulders, literally making him an arm length from you. The smile on his face is the cutest you have ever seen. It’s toothless and his cheeks more fluffier than ever. The way his eyes sparkled competed with the street lights and the present stars the night sky above the two of you.

He looked so beautiful. 

You’re so fucked. 

You’re irrevocably in love with Min Yoongi. 

It was taking you everything not to step forward and put your lips on his. The self-control you were so adamant to maintain was trying to leave your body because of the rush of emotion you feel.

So you let it happen.

A thud on the ground was the only thing heard when the box from your left hand hit the ground. You don’t miss how his eyes widened at the contact of his soft lips to yours. His hands on your shoulder are now raised in shock. You froze, unaware of what to do next. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

The moment you retract your lips however, his hands find their way to your cage your face. You swear your heart skipped a bit when he voluntarily pressed his lips onto yours and his eyes fluttered close. His plump lips move swiftly with yours, as if memorizing the very taste you.

Is this really happening?

You’re kissing Min Yoongi? You have been dreaming of this for years. You should feel happy. And you are. God, you’re ecstatic. But just like every moment of happiness you feel in your life, the anxiety that there will be an opposite reaction from the roulette of life sticks in your system. You push the ugly thoughts this time and let yourself bask in the excitement you feel.

His hands slide down to your shoulders, to your back, and finally your waist. He tugged your lower lip, tongue sweeping in your lips. There was a type of hunger in his kiss that confuses you. It didn’t feel lustful or wrong. It was not a satisfaction from a craving or a need. There was yearning that confuses you but you can’t help but indulge yourself in the moment. You let it happen and without thinking, your hand finds it way to the back of his neck. 

The icy cold of your palm must have woken him to reality because it made his whole body stiffen and he steps back, breaking the kiss in a swift movement.

“I–” He stutters, face red and out of breath. 

Before he or you can catch his breath or be able to choose his words, the door swings open.

“There you two are!” 

Your one and only brother looks at your surprised face and then at Yoongi, who was looking like he has seen death himself.

“You okay there, bro?” Namjoon asks, looking at his friend in suspicion. You panic, realizing your idiotly clever brother is trying to read the room and figuring out what had happened just before he stepped out of the building.

“Yeah! We were just going in. Yoongi’s getting cold.” You reply for the still frozen man instead when he doesn't answer for a second. 

Your brother still seemed a little confused but nods anyway. “Come on in quick, you guys.” He says before heading back in.

As soon as the door shut close you turn to the man in front of you. 

“Yoongi.” You call him, a hopeful call. It was a call for him to address what happened. It was a pleading for him to step out of his trance. It was you telling him “what now?” in one call of his name.

His eyes finally meet yours. They were hardly readable. You don’t know what he’s thinking and it kills you inside. 

“Yoongi?” You repeat, softly this time. Like you know what he’s about to do.

“Let’s…” His eyes stray from yours. “Let’s go inside.”

His feet carry him three steps before you grab his arm to stop him. Your nimble fingers catch his thick biceps and he looks back at you with pain in his eyes.

“Y/N, please.” He pleads, eyes moist.

“Are we really not going to talk about it?” You questioned almost angrily.

The hand from his other arm touches yours, gently taking it off. “It was a mista–.” Your mouth gapes open at his choice of words.

“A mistake?” You finish his sentence with a raised voice. How can it be a mistake when he kissed you back? He’s confusing you. 

“No! That’s not what I meant.” He rubs his face with his hands and looks up sighing. “Can we talk about this later? Namjoon’s waiting.”

He doesn’t even wait for your answer and leaves you in a rush out in the cold street.

When you come back in, your feet carried you to where Taehyung was. He was still at the dance floor but just lightly dancing and engaging in conversation with his friends. You must have been walking in distress because his face immediately falls to worry when he spots you.

You look straight at him with moist eyes, silently telling him you need him. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back, yeah?” Taehyung bids his friends goodbye and drags you into the women’s comfort room and into a cubicle. 

“What happened?” Taehyung whispered. 

The corners of your lips turn downward and the tears you were holding back finally fall. You cried like a baby and you cover your face with your fists. The alcohol in your system must have had affected you more than you think it did with the way you were more emotional than usual. 

“Hey, hey. Calm down.” Your best friend tried to soothe you, grabbing your hands away from your face and wiping your tears. “You’re gonna ruin your makeup.” 

You slap him on the chest repeatedly. “My makeup is the least of my priorities right now!”

“I know. I know! I was just trying to make you laugh! I’m kind of freaked out right now because I’ve never seen you cry and I’m gonna be honest here, you’re actually kind of an ugly crier.” He rants as he tried to stop you from hitting him. 

When you stopped hitting him and there wasn’t an overwhelming feeling to wail and cry, you pushed the lid of the toilet close and sat on it. You look up at your friend who stands in front of you. There was a moment of silence and the only thing that can be heard is you sniffing.

“Not gonna lie, you look like you’re about to suck my dick right now.” Taehyung jokes again and he covers himself with his hands after saying it, afraid to be hit again. Instead, you glare at him and huff.

“We kissed.” You confess. 

“You what? Who?” His brows furrow in confusion, crossing his arms by his chest.

You gave him a look, not wanting to say the name. The man in front of you stares, thinking for a few seconds, then his eyes widens and he clasps a hand on his mouth when he gasps loudly. 

You shush him and he sits on bended knees to get closer to you. “You kissed Yoongi?! How the fuck did that happen?” He shouts in a whisper. 

“I kissed him and he kissed me back.” You answer and Taehyung watches as your face scrunches up and the tears well in your eyes again. He immediately brings out a handkerchief from his pocket and shushes you, offering you words of comfort like a little kid.

“And assuming you’re crying now, it didn’t end well?” He asks as he wipes your tears with the cloth. You nod with a pout over your tears and Taehyung smiles sadly. He always admired how you love so pure and delicately. He wishes Yoongi could see you the way he sees you. 

No, he doesn’t like you like that. But he wishes he could see that you were more than a little sister who’s been hurt. You’re a strong kind woman. The kind of person who would give up everything just to help someone. He wishes that not only Yoongi but also your brother could see that you only allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of them. 

“Do you want me to speak to him?” He genuinely offers, a bitter tone on his voice.

“No. He said we’ll speak after the party.” You answer, finally halting from crying.

Taehyung helped you collect yourself and fix the way you look before going out again. It was all your goal to not see or approach Yoongi for the rest of the night but you can’t help it when the first thing you see the moment you stepped out of the comfort room is his face.

There he was, sitting on a bar stool, away from the private tables. 

Unlike earlier when he stayed away from heavy drinks, there was a glass of whiskey in his hand. The regret of wearing white creeps in because you think it might’ve made you stood out against the dark ambiance of the place. You know because his eyes shift in your direction when Taehyung was dragging you out.

It would’ve been fine. You would’ve been okay if he just ignored you and carried on drinking. That was you were supposed to do too, anyway. 

But the thing that made your heart shatter was when you found who was sitting beside him–Jieun. You see her touch his arm and whisper in his ear. Taehyung has pulled you away from the scene before you see what happen next.

The night passed and you were left to act like nothing happened. You faked smiles and avoided Yoongi all throughout the night. Eunwoo did not approach you more that night which you were thankful for. It seemed he got the point that you weren’t interested in anything more. You danced with your friends, open your gifts in front of many, and wasted the night away with alcohol.

On the way home, you chose to ride with your brother. As you sit silently beside him, you were wishing he didn’t sense how there was a shift in yours and his best friend’s aura. 

Your mind brings you back to the kiss that still lingers on your lips and you wonder how the night had turned upside down. “How was that for a birthday, huh?” Namjoon asked.

“Was fun, yeah?” You only chuckle in response and looked out the window. You can feel him stare at you from your peripheral vision. 

“Who gave you that necklace?” He suddenly asks and you realize he must’ve been looking at the jewelry around your neck.

Your hand flies up to touch the necklace, once again being reminded of the man you’ve been trying hard to forget since hours ago. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

You don’t miss the way his expressions harden ir the way his knuckles turn white from the grip on the wheel. “Huh.” He only reacts.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, curious at his reaction. 

“Oh, nothing. The necklace is just familiar, that’s all.” He smiles at you before setting his eyes back at the road fully.

You feel the charm of the necklace up with your thumb and index finger, feeling the rough texture of it. 

Familiar? 

The drive home was normal after that. You didn’t have much conversation and only sang to some songs on the radio. When Namjoon was parking, Yoongi was already waiting outside his car. You watch him as he stands there with his hands in his pocket, kicking the ground like a kid impatiently waiting. 

“I asked him to wait so he could help carry some of your gifts.” Joon explained without you asking. You nod. “Ah.” 

When you stepped out the car, your eyes meet with Yoongi’s. It’s as if a million words holds them. 

“I’ll go ahead first. I need to wash up.” You say to both of them and break the contact with Yoongi. 

You did as you told and don’t look back at your brother and his best friend who were busy getting your gifts from the car. 

You lie in your bed, unable to sleep for hours. Finally giving up on trying, you sit up on your bed. Feeling a slight parch on your throat, you decide to get a glass of something to drink in the kitchen. But before you do, you text the man who was on your mind–the culprit of you not being able to sleep tonight.

u up? - 3:48 am

Not even a minute later, your phone dings with a notification. He must’ve been not able to sleep as well.

why - 3:48 am

meet me in the kitchen. - 3:49 am

Before leaving your room, you take a check on your appearance. You wore an oversized band shirt and comfy lounge shorts. You run your hand over your hair to brush over the stray strands that went in different directions over your aggressive turning on the bed. When you were satisfied with how your hair looked, you went out of your room and into the kitchen. 

He still wasn’t there when you arrived so you sat down on a bar stool by the kitchen counter and waited for him with a boxed chocolate drink in your hand. 

Yoongi finally steps out of his room, cheeks a bit swollen for some reason. He wore an oversized shirt like you but instead of pajama shorts, he wore grey sweatpants. Your eyes meet at the glow of the light coming from the kitchen. The corners of your lips turn slightly upward into a sad smile.

Before he sits down beside you, he grabs a glass of water from the fridge. He sets it down beside your drink giving you a small smile.

There was an uneasy silence for a few seconds as you both sit there and stare at your drink. 

“I’m–”

“So–”

You both speak at the same time, words overlapping.

“You go first.”

“Go ahead.” 

You chuckle and he sighs. “I’ll go first.” You declare. He only nods and takes a sip of his water. 

Your finger runs over the edges of the boxed drink, not being able to make contact with the person you’re speaking to. For a moment, your brain is telling you to don’t say it, as if it knows you’re only going to cause yourself pain if you do it. But a bigger part of you just wants to rip it off like a band aid.

“I like you.” You confess.

“Ever since I was in high school, I had this stupid crush on you.” You chuckle, an overwhelming emotion rushing through you. Your lower lips jutted out and you feel the warm tears trickle to your eyes. 

God, why can’t you do shit like this without crying?

“I know you don’t feel the same way. You said the kiss was a mistake–” 

“It wasn’t a mistake.” He interrupts you. This makes you look at him and he finally sees your reddening eyes, tears threatening to spill. It was a sight that broke his heart. The way he was causing you pain is agony to him.

“What?” 

He shakes his head. “The kiss wasn’t a mistake. I’m taking responsibility for it.” 

Oh. 

It’s like that. It wasn’t because he liked it or he liked you back. He was just taking responsibility for it. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It was great.” He looks at you straight in the eyes. You don’t notice the tears that have trickled down your face non-stop. 

“But I don’t think that something should happen between us more than that.” He continues after pausing. “For obvious reasons.”

Obvious reasons… your brother and your age gap. Fucking bullshit. 

He lifts himself off his seat but before he can walk away, you grab his arm. He stills in his stance, looking at your hand on his arm before looking straight to your eyes.

“Wait,” you gulped. You don’t think you should ask this. That way, you may be able to prevent the inevitable pain. But still, you weren’t thinking. If you don’t ask now, you’re afraid you will regret it forever. So still, you ask.

“Did you not feel anything?” you squeaked. Beneath the dim light, you see his eyes flash with something unreadable.

His eyes shift away from yours and down to the hand still grasping his arm. He thinks for a few seconds, probably pondering on how to break it to you. Slowly, he shakes his head. 

“No. I’m sorry.” 

With the words he let out, your hand falls from him and onto your sides, laying limply like the life in it was lost. 

He left you there in the kitchen for your heart to break alone. When he fully disappears to his room, you were left to support yourself with your hands on your face, weeping and your heart crashing all over the place. 

What a fucking birthday.

-

The silence in the atmosphere sent chills to your skin when you entered the apartment. The lights were turned off but the television was turned on, muted. Yoongi was lying on the couch, asleep. At least, that’s what he’s showing. You guess he’s just pretending to be asleep because he’s avoiding you because of what happened yesterday.

You headed to your room in silence and decided to take a nap. If only you knew, this nap was the nap you will remember forever. 

Screams were the first thing you heard. Then alarms, then horns of cars, then crying–needless to say, it was too overwhelming for you to stay asleep. You rise from your bed in panic, heading to the window to see what the commotion was about. 

Your hand flew to your mouth as you watched a helicopter crash into a far building. Then you looked down. Cars were all over. Some crashed together. One crashed into a pole. There were injured people everywhere. 

The first thing you thought of was Namjoon. Namjoon was outside. 

You scramble to get your phone that was buried in your sheets, quickly dialing Namjoon. You don’t pray a lot, but it seemed a good time to start. “God, god, please. Namjoon, please answer.” 

When he didn’t, you tried again. Then again. Then again.

You groaned and decided to give up when it seemed hopeless for the nth time. You’ll just have to see him for yourself. After slipping your phone into your pants’ pocket, you grab your jacket from your closet and wear it. 

“Yoongi!” you scream as you step out of your bedroom.

“Yoongi, you gotta help me. I can’t reach Namjoon! Something fucked up is happening outside. We need to go get him!” You turned on the lights to wake up Yoongi. But when your eye drifts to the couch, nobody’s there. 

“Yoongi?” You call out, hoping that Yoongi comes out of his room.  You chuckle, trying to make light of the situation with tears forming in your eyes, in hopes that you’re in a very bad nightmare right now.

“Yoongi? This isn’t funny. Where are you? What’s going on?” There’s an unexplainable fear that suddenly hit you.

Yoongi wasn’t in his room, you checked. He isn’t in Namjoon’s either. Not in the bathroom. So you called him too. He didn’t answer. You called Yoongi, then Namjoon again. He didn’t answer. 

That’s when your eyes caught the breaking news on the TV that was still muted. You unmute it. The reporter, the most well-known professional in the breaking news segment was in distress, tears falling from their eyes like waterfall. “Yes, this just in, an unknown force is making people disappear and turning them into dust. Including my partner, our own Mr.--” Whatever she was saying, you tune out, eyes only watching actual footage of people disappearing in the news then drifting back to the empty couch by your side.

Yoongi’s gone… and Namjoon probably is too. And with that realization, you find your knees getting weak and hitting the hard floor with a thud. 

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you. my works are not cross-posted anywhere else but this blog. thank you.

𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽

➺ Character: Levi Ackerman.

➺ Reader: afab!reader

➺ Words: 8 316

➺ Summary: Levi Ackerman. Duke Ackerman. A mysterious, stern man who never strays from the straight and narrow, whether by choice or because of his hectic schedule, no one knows and no one wants to know, because this social season, they say, he's planning to take a wife. To your best parade ladies, the most coveted bachelor is finally available…

➺ Warning: Misogyny. Women are seen as reproducers. It's not a smut, but it's tendentious.

➺ A/n: I've watched so much Queen Charlotte and Bridgertone that I wanted to write something in that kind of historical universe. Haha… that ties in with my love of historical manhwa. English is not my first language. Sorry for the mistakes.

"Are you ready for the new social season, Ackerman?

Slumped against the comfortable back of the imposing office chair, the principal concerned didn't even bother to look up from his documents. Not out of concentration but to avoid being confronted with the irritating sight of that shit-eating, mocking smile on his friend's lips. His hand, holding a quill, continued to scratch the paper, drowning the sheet under the jet-haired man's beautiful cursive handwriting. He was doing all he could to divert his attention from the noisy, annoying ramblings of this over-talkative individual who doesn't know when to stop talking. The social season was far from his first and he hoped it would be his last. To take a respectable wife and finally be rid of the target that all the carnivorous mothers were staring at behind his back.

"Levi Ackerman. The most coveted bachelor since Duke Smith was taken off the marital market. Smith has found himself a charming little wife who fills him with happiness. And who will you find to warm your cold heart and sour mood? Will you have a sweet little loving wife? Maybe you'll have a carbon copy of yourself, which I wouldn't wish on any of the servants in your homes. Putting up with you alone is enough, so a woman like you…" "Hange, if you've got nothing better to do, get the hell out of my house." "Aw Ackerman, you're so rude! I'm sick to my stomach."

Levi looked up briefly from his documents to shoot a bored glance at the person in front of his desk who was feigning a deep wound in his heart. He snorted in disdain before diving back into his urgent business, all the while continuing to ignore Hange's mocking and playful monologue. He didn't need to be reminded of the social seasons. He still remembered perfectly how many people gathered around him at every ball he had the misfortune to attend. At the time, Erwin Smith was also single, which eased some of the pressure from mothers eager to find a good match for their daughters. But now he was married, forcing Levi to face the demons alone in the elegant clothes of a noblewoman called mother. Worst of all, rumour had it that he was planning to take a wife. It wasn't a lie; he intended to declare his intentions and take the hand of a young woman who would meet his standards, which he was forced to lower in the hope of finding someone. However, this rumour would fuel the ambition of these mothers. He could already see himself in a ballroom, unable to take a single step without being interrupted by one of them. Levi could bet his hand that the person behind the rumour was standing right in front of him.

"Erwin was lucky to find someone who makes his heart beat. If I don't rule out love, it's the last thing that's going to enter into my calculations. I need a duchess. A woman who can host and organise receptions and welcome foreign dignitaries. I need someone who can manage high society and the heritage of our estates while giving birth to my children. She must have the shoulders and spirit to handle the duties of a duchess. She must have the dignity and poise that comes with the title." "You are demanding." Hange sighed, in a melancholy breath. "I have to be. I can't accept just anyone as Duchess and you know that. Erwin was very lucky. One in a million. Who knows if I could be so lucky as to find in the most capable of women the one I would love." "Good. You're so serious about this that I can't not lend you a hand." "Please. I don't need your help which is too often useless and catastrophic. Not to mention shitty." "Trust me! The Queen has already chosen her diamond, the girl who shines above the rest. I happen to know her personally." "Don't say it like it's some revolutionary idea. There was nothing more predictable than being interested in the diamond of the season. A girl who is all too often chosen for her beauty rather than her skills. A factor I have no interest in." "You're depressing Ackerman." Hange complains, her upper body slumped over the paper-free part of the desk.

Levi clicks his tongue against his palate, now having to endure the sighs and complaints of this individual lounging on his wooden desk that is surely worth more than a small estate in the heart of the capital. He makes a mental note to himself to thoroughly clean the wooden surface to remove any germs that Hange might leave on his wonderful desk.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Lady [Name]. Miss [Name]. What a pleasure it is to welcome you to our land. I hope British soil suits your tastes." "It is an honour, Your Majesty. We thank you for your hospitality." "Isn't there someone missing? Don't you have two daughters?" Asks the Queen, one eyebrow arched. "My apologies, Your Majesty, my sister could not bear the journey on the ship. She was forced to stay in bed while her illness subsided." You say.

Along with your mother, you bow to Her Majesty the Queen of England. There is no doubt that this woman is of a completely different class to the ladies of the nobility. The Queen is the most noble. The one to whom all eyes naturally turn. You can't help but let your eyes take in the sumptuous details of the lace covering Her Majesty the Queen's dress. A puffed-up dress that breaks with the current trend for empire dresses. Why didn't she follow the current fashion? Wasn't it a silent obligation of society not to step out of line at the risk of being singled out for criticism and harsh words by other nobles? You have abandoned the clothes of your native country to blend in with current British fashion, but you feel a touch of admiration before Her Majesty the Queen. Perhaps you could persuade your mother to let you proudly wear the dresses of your homeland?

"Come, come, come! We have so much to talk about. We'll soon be one big, beautiful family." "I hope so too, Your Majesty." Your mother affirms, with a discreet, unruffled smile.

With that, you follow in the Queen's rapid and ample footsteps. How can she be so comfortable in clothes that seem so uncomfortable? It's probably a question of habit. A few steps behind her, you try to keep up with the rapid pace through the magnificent corridors decorated with gilding and sculptures that you know are worth more than anything the less fortunate could dream of. On the walls hang paintings depicting the royal couple's life together. When they are young, then soon joined by a multitude of toddlers until these children take on the appearance of young adults. A chronological frieze that tells the story of a hidden family history.

There's nothing like that in your family. There's just a register that takes into account the many members of your clan. Only the hard core share the ancestral domain, while the others are invited every year for a week to maintain a certain union between all the members of your clan. And you… you're the chief's goddaughter. Daughter of the chief's sister. After the chief's daughter, you are the most noble thing in your country. The purest. If your cousin is promised to the prince of your kingdom, you… Are you going to join the jewels of the British Empire? That is a perfectly acceptable future. But are you prepared to give up your family? Your country? The life you've built there? To leave to start a new life with a man whose company you're not sure you'd enjoy?

For a moment, this sumptuous palace looks like a cage. Your future cage.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Miss [Name], what's your country like? I'm genuinely curious about the different regions." The princess's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. "At the risk of committing an act of treason on your soil, I admit that our landscapes have nothing to envy to those of British soil. I would even go so far as to say that they are splendid. I think you'd like it very much."

The princess lets a soft laugh slip from her lips, which she hastens to hide behind her fan. You squint your eyes in delight. The princess doesn't seem to be offended by this little joke; she seems to be enjoying it. You take a sip of the tea you were served a few minutes ago.

Several days have passed since your arrival. You still haven't met the prince who may become your fiancé, but you won't regret not having met him yet. You dread this moment. If you do meet him, it will all become too real for you. These imaginary chains of commitment will be physically represented by a sumptuous ring on your left ring finger. The very thought makes your stomach boil with palpable discomfort. Fortunately, you've been lucky enough to meet a charming princess your own age. Historia Reiss. A soul so sweet and pure that you could swear you'd want to protect her just so she wouldn't encounter any unpleasantness in her life. You could almost find comfort in her presence should you end up marrying one of the princes.

"The first ball of the season will be held at Lord and Lady Yeager's house. Would you be comfortable? I don't know how different the culture of your country is from here." "Don't worry, your highness. I used to attend quite a few balls in my country, along with my cousins. We never missed an opportunity to socialise. We were an inseparable trio…" "You seem very close to your family." "I grew up with them. I can't conceive of a life without them in my life." "With so many brothers and sisters, I can only understand you. Sometimes they're unbearable but in the end, I wouldn't give them up for anything in the world."

The atmosphere becomes heavy with nostalgia. Memories of numerous family events come back to haunt you and add to the weight on your shoulders. The same dilemma seems to be facing the princess, who is also due to marry in the not too distant future. She too will have to leave her family, perhaps even her homeland, to marry a powerful nobleman from another nation in order to forge ties. Because that's what women are for: to produce heirs and to act as bargaining chips in the political game. Knowing and accepting are two different things. You know your destiny, but can you accept it? Are you even being asked to accept it? No. You are asked to suffer and endure.

The princess coughed in a feeble attempt to lighten the almost ceremonial mood.

"If you wish, I can teach you a few things for your first ball here. I don't doubt your social skills, far from it! But the culture here must still be foreign to you…" "Thank you, Your Highness, it is with pleasure that I accept your kind offer."

A smile curves your lips. The afternoon is spent talking about the little subtleties of the English court, which you find so lacking. Little protocols, little messages coded behind the tilt of your fan. The language of the fan is different from that of your country. She also teaches you the latest rumours so that you don't feel too out of place, even if you don't really know the protagonists portrayed in her rumours. It would seem, however, that this kingdom is particularly fond of such gossip. Time passed at an alarming rate and before you knew it it was time to part. The sun was about to set. You both had to get ready for the dinner that was about to begin.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The evening of the first ball of the season has finally arrived. As expected, as soon as Duke Ackerman arrived, all the mothers with ambition presented themselves to him, their daughters in tow. He didn't hear any family names, all he heard was the roar of lionesses hungry for prestige or the pecking of hens. He almost cursed Erwin for abandoning him to indulge in his newlywed life. While he was genuinely happy for his friend, Levi couldn't help but curse him in this situation. A duke still single…a real dawn to behold. He excused himself briefly with a shake of his head, ignoring the sighs of disappointment, and extricated himself from the flock of ladies to join Hange, who was standing in the company of Erwin and his young wife.

He almost regretted having come to keep them company when he was forced to listen to Hange's mocking laughter, which seemed to find the Duke's distress satisfying in every way. If looks could kill, Hange would already be six feet under rotting and being eaten by worms. Too bad that's not possible.

"I can't wait to find someone nice so I can get away from all this excitement for good." Levi grumbled, his lips against the rim of his champagne glass. "You talk more than you act. If you keep running away, you won't know any of these girls and you'll end up another season on your own. A real vicious circle." Hange scoffs. "I'm not running away. I'm running away from this savage horde." Retorts the man concerned. "She's not wrong. You'll never find anyone at this rate." Erwin agrees, shaking his head. "Even Smith says so." Hange boasts. "Oh…I always thought you two would end up married. You're always together…" Lady Smith intervenes in a timid voice, unsure whether to say the words or not.

The other three turned to her. Erwin gently shook his head and calmly explained the situation. Hange couldn't help laughing as if she'd just heard the most hilarious joke, while Levi frowned, not holding back the visible disgust he felt at the very idea of having to share his life more than he already did with this individual. A friendly relationship could be tolerated, but more? Ah, God save him from this dark fate!

"My apologies! I always thought…" "Don't worry, my dear." Erwin said to soothe her. "It's common knowledge in the various circles of high society. Your relationship is a trending topic at every turn." Informs Lady Smith, a nervous smile on her lips. "Please don't say another word about it." Begs Levi, who swears a glass of champagne isn't strong enough to hear that kind of story about him. He needs stronger alcohol.

Fortunately for the Duke, the music ends, replaced immediately by the powerful melody of trumpets, a harbinger of the arrival of the one everyone is waiting for: Her Majesty the Queen of England. The big doors open, revealing the royal figure in her sublime gown of thick ivory with a few touches of blue. The guard at the door announced the Queen's arrival in a firm voice. Then other names were called: that of Princess Historia Reiss. Then the Countess [Name] and her daughter.

All bowed to Her Majesty the Queen, before rising to gaze at the two newcomers to the British court: mother and daughter [Name]. Two foreigners whose features stand out from the rest of the nobility. A refined exoticism that is sure to catch the eye of even the most self-righteous duke. Recognising beauty in the unknown is right up his street. But perhaps his gaze lingered a little too long on the young miss descending the stairs, as Hange tapped him on the side of the elbow. A single glance was enough for him to see the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Don't think about it, four eyes."

Hange shrugged, before pushing him forward, encouraging him to take a step towards the quartet who had finally set foot on the ballroom floor. Levi stumbled on his feet, managing to catch himself in time before hitting the floor. A movement that didn't seem to go unnoticed, on the contrary. He felt the weight of Her Majesty The Queen's gaze, which had just spotted him in the crowd. He refrains from swearing between his teeth, cursing the day Hange was born. With a perfect bow, he presented himself to Her Majesty, without bothering to smile. No one has ever seen him smile, he is thought to be incapable of it.

"Duke Ackerman, what a pleasure it is to honour us with your presence." The Queen begins. "The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty." "Have you already met our guests, Lady [Name] and Miss [Name]?" "I have not had that honour before today."

The Duke analysed the curve of the Queen's smile, then followed the discreet movement of her eyes towards the young miss in silent command. Levi wrinkled his nose briefly, so as not to break his legendary impassivity and reveal his displeasure at his situation. But perhaps he could have picked a worse partner than a young miss who had just arrived on English soil and who certainly didn't know the latest gossip. He walked around The Queen, his strides guiding him to a respectable distance from the foreign miss, his hand outstretched towards her. His steely eyes gazed into hers, taking in the minute details in her irises. The brilliance of the crystals on the ballroom chandelier was reflected in her eyes, as if a whole galaxy had taken refuge in her.

"Miss [Name], would you do me the honour of a dance?"

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

You smooth down the silk of your dress, which covers your body in a beautifully crafted adornment. You feel uncomfortable in this dress, not so much from the corset as from the layers of this empire dress. You weren't sure whether there was too much fabric or not enough. Your breasts, contoured by the corset, bulge out for all to see. Your eyes can't take your eyes off this display of flesh, which now seemed so unseemly just a few seconds before your entrance. A gentle pressure on your arm rouses you from your obvious discomfort. The princess stands beside you in a pleasant attempt to help you overcome the demons of anxiety. You offer her a gentle smile, thanking her for her kindness.

The double doors open to reveal the bright lights coming from the candles, especially the giant chandelier suspended above the couples of motionless dancers, facing you. All this attention is directed at you. Suddenly, all that nervousness evaporates like snow in the sun. The feeling of being the eye-catching jewel takes you back to the wonderful days when you and your two cousins dominated your country's high society. Your body remembers the small, graceful gestures and discreet, charming smiles of a noble lady. Why were you nervous again? You couldn't remember, but the delight of returning to balls and luxury made you feel like a fish in water.

Behind the Queen, you watch the Duke's silhouette approach you. A very handsome man, the orange glow of the candles emphasising the chiselled, severe features of his face. He doesn't stand out for his height, but the way his expensive suit clings to his muscles, the shadows discreetly emphasise the contours of his sculpted body. You hold your breath as he approaches you. Blimey, you've completely forgotten to follow the discussion that's just taken place. Has he caught you looking at him in the most shameful way possible? To your surprise, he invites you to join him in a dance. You slip your hand into his, a pleasant shiver caressing your spine as he traps your hand between his fingers, drawing you onto the dance floor. You feel his second hand slide down your side to rest on your hip, the perfect place to keep from being indecent. His warmth embraces you with a gentle sensation. It's so different to when you're being held by your cousin for a dance, it's different…because you're in the presence of a man and not a family member you grew up with. A breath slips from your lips as you feel his fingers tighten their grip on your hip. That simple touch electrifies your nerves. Your eyes gaze into his, searching for his soul for a brief moment. Perhaps it's simply because he's a man… the first man to hold you. Maybe it's because you can feel the firmness of his muscles under his suit.

The music begins, echoing throughout the room. You dance together, following the silent instructions of his body against yours. Around you other couples join in, but in all honesty you're not really paying attention.

"So…you're the most coveted bachelor of the season?" You ask to start a conversation with your dance partner. "I see you've been made aware of the latest rumours." The Duke resigns himself, his features hardened by the despair of his situation.

You can't help but let a laugh escape you at your dance partner's visible dissatisfaction. It would seem that this is a subject that puts him in an uncomfortable situation.

"The princess seemed well to inform me of the latest intriguing news at court so that I should not find myself out of place." "Do you intend to stay until the end of the season or will you be staying on British soil?" "It's a huge upheaval to change countries for good. But I'm beginning to discover the attractions of the British Empire." You reply, your gaze firmly anchored in his.

He opens his lips briefly, like a fish out of water. Then he turns in on himself, becoming once again the cold, stern duke, inflexible in his expressions if only for the tiny expressions that make him human and not a marble statue.

"The princess is a charming person who never fails to brighten my days. Her ladies-in-waiting, though I don't really know them, seem to me to be perfectly benevolent ladies."

The drawing music threatened to end the song. Soon you will have to part with this man whose surname and title you know only. A beauty like that won't struggle to find a wife before the season is over.

"I want to know you more, Your Grace."

No sooner do these words leave your lips than the music stops. The surprised expression on your dance partner's face reflects your own surprise. Tact has never been your strong point according to your twin sister, and today you have just confirmed what you have denied all your life. Are you really going to…propose getting to know another man? When you may end up betrothed to a prince if the discussions between your mother and the Queen come to an agreement.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

Levi didn't know what to expect when he asked her to dance, or what the queen might be thinking. This damsel had not crossed oceans to come here with the intention of seeing some scenery. Everyone could sense that a royal wedding was approaching. The union between two great and powerful families that would make every nobleman in their homeland tremble. Yet he had to restrain his hand from slipping lower on her hip to feel the curves under her dress that must remain inaccessible to him forever. It wasn't love at first sight, he didn't believe in it and the very concept seemed delirious and implausible. Nevertheless, he recognised the principle of attraction. And the young woman in front of him was one of the few to arouse in him the first shivers of desire. But she was out of reach. She would soon be joining the crown jewels. He was not going to jeopardise this young woman's fine future plans, just as he was not going to ruin the excellent reputation he had built up by staying away from brothels and opera singers looking for stability and finance in the arms of rich men.

The conversation was very casual, nothing interesting, just banal politeness. Despite the tingling in his fingers when his ears were graced by her laughter. He hated the fact that this stupid rumour, although true, was brought to the attention of his dance partner. But unlike the many other suitors, she had no intention of putting a target on his back, as a better partner was presenting herself. She could be a breath of fresh air, if only for a moment. Was it wrong to enjoy this dance? To enjoy this company even for a few minutes? One dance before returning to their respective worlds. Or so he thought, until the words left her lips.

"I want to know you more, Your Grace."

Like a mirror, their surprise was reflected in each other's faces. Those words shouldn't have been spoken, not to a stranger and not to someone you know. Those words imply a lot of things, especially with a woman who was perhaps going to join the crown. He shouldn't accept, he couldn't accept. Perhaps his answer, his refusal, was visible in his eyes, for he needed no words to make her more embarrassed than she already was. Under his hands, he could feel the heat radiating from this body that wanted to bend over and disappear six feet under to save herself the embarrassment. He could feel the movement of her muscles, he could feel her holding back from rushing away and abandoning him on the dance floor, causing a scandal. She held back to avoid causing trouble for him as much as for herself. In the shame of rejection, she knew how to behave and curb her urges to save face. A quality… if it could be described that way.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I beg you to forget what just happened."

She bowed in a curtsy, signalling the end of their dance. He returned the courtesy. And before he knew it, he was with his friends, a glass in his hand to quench his thirst. His gaze lost in the sparkling bubbles of the alcoholic beverage.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Why did fate seem so set against you? The ball was only a day old and yet you bumped into the man you swore you'd never see again for the sake of your pride. He also seemed taken aback, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from each other. You look away and concentrate on the young woman standing beside Lord Ackerman. She seems to be beaming with delight, ready to pounce on you for questioning or…examination. You feel the need to cover yourself with more than a dress and a thin shawl against the breeze.

"Oh, look at the sun; already so low in the sky. I'll be off, Ackerman! It's every gentleman's duty to keep such a charming damsel as the young miss company!"

Left in utter bewilderment, you bat your eyelashes at the spectacle, unsure of how to deal with the hasty departure of the brown-haired woman already far away from you both. Silently, you arch an eyebrow at Levi, as if to confirm that what has just happened really did happen.

"You…you're in the queen's gardens." "I am." Levi retorts.

Silence.

This is so uncomfortable, even for you. You decide to take your leave. A meticulously and swiftly executed curtsy, then you make your way back to the palace and hide under the covers of your bed to forget this second shame. You need to regain your composure. Shame doesn't kill, you've faced worse than this in your country! A man a little more handsome than the average is not going to make you forget your means. As you try to convince yourself mentally, you are slow to notice the footsteps at your back, until a hand wraps around your wrist. A gasp escapes your lips, and your body quickly turns towards the person who dares to touch you. You come face to face with the Duke. So close. Almost as close as when you were dancing. You blink, fighting against the honour you would lose if you were caught alone this close to a man, or the desire to feel that hand slide up your arm and lodge itself in the hollow of your neck.

"Your Grace…" You whisper. "I beg you to let me go. This is unseemly." You manage to stay firm on your feet, pushing deep into your mind that strange feeling that runs through you every time this man lays a finger on you. "I apologise. No matter how many times I called you, you didn't seem to be able to hear me."

With that, he releases your wrist, taking several steps away from you. A perfectly respectable distance. Your wrist still seemed to be burning from the Duke's touch. An exquisite warmth. Before you can sink any deeper into your thoughts, his voice brings you back to reality.

"I am also on my way to the palace. Allow me to accompany you."

Even now you're wondering what went through your head to accept the proposal of a man you can neither know nor approach for the sake of your mother's discussions. No… It was only a courtesy, there was no implication. It's ridiculous to worry so much about a man you only met a day ago. It's because he's so beautiful that you lose your nerve! It's only attraction, nothing more can come from this beauty. The journey continues in silence. Honestly, you don't know whether you prefer silence or a conversation filled with banality to fill the void. On reflection, however, the Duke seems to revel in the quiet, preferring words when absolutely necessary. In this respect, he reminds you of your twin sister, who thrives on silence and useful conversation. A smile lights up your face, shy and as light as the cherry blossoms that fall from their tree when the season ends.

"Was that Miss Zoe?" You ask, annoyed at more silence. "Your ability to learn all the latest society gossip both fascinates and frightens me. you'll make a fine lady of British society." Levi sighed, admitting defeat at your ability to inform yourself on such matters just days after arriving on the soil of the Kingdom of England. "You flatter me, Your Grace. But I am not. Your person intrigues every person in this company. Almost every rumour revolves around you." "I intrigue you too, it would seem." "Don't give yourself too much credit, Your Grace." You reply with a hint of mischief in your voice. Teasing your interlocutor. "You are the prologue to a great book called High Society in the British Empire." "Oh, but it's when you read the prologue that you decide to continue reading a book. Are you going to continue reading this book, miss?" He snarls, his steely eyes darting into yours in defiance. "I don't know. I haven't read the whole prologue to be able to decide." You reply with a satisfied smile.

Your smile widens as you hear the Duke chuckle. If you didn't listen carefully, it would be easy to miss his laughter. A soft warmth spreads through your chest, satisfied that for a moment you have been able to break the cold, unruffled expression. Once outside the glass doors leading to one of the palace's too many halls, your companion stops in his tracks. This is it. The time has come for you to part. There's no need to exchange any more words, just a glance at each other and you already know that you mustn't stay together any longer than that. So you do what your mind tells you rather than the tug of disappointment of interrupting a beautiful discussion. You go your separate ways until fate allows you to see each other again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The weeks went by. Invitations to the ball, invitations to tea, days spent with Princess Historia and sometimes, exceptionally, you have the honour of sharing a conversation with the Queen. You never got even a glimpse of the prince who might become part of your future. Nothing was official yet, but wasn't it the least you could do to come and see one of the women who was going to share his life? The Prince shone through his absence from the palace, but rumours spread quickly, even among a young miss who was still new to British society. You've heard the rumours: the Prince favours an opera singer. He flaunts her publicly with no regard for his honour. Historia was trying to protect you, but at the same time she refused to hide her brother's imperfections from you, especially if you were to marry him. This is how you discovered that he had fathered two little bastards whom he was trying to have recognised by his mother so that they could become princes with a right of succession.

Disgusting.

Was this the future fate that awaited you? Waiting for your twin sister? Sharing a life with a man who shows the world his mistress? Unable to do so discreetly like most other nobles.

That should be your main concern, yet you can't help thinking of the duke who shares a few conversations with you when you find yourselves at the same ball. You always shared a dance under your mother's watchful eye. She said nothing, did nothing to prevent you from getting involved with other men. Perhaps she thought, as you did, that it was just a friendly relationship that was developing? Perhaps you were the only one to convince yourself of this lie when you wanted to feel the Duke's hands on your hips. Were you alone in feeling that desire boiling in your chest? Yet here you were, once again, sharing a fleeting moment of happiness that was to end as soon as the ball was over. On the balcony of the manor house, surrounded by a few souls looking for refreshment, you were chatting with the Duke. Lost in your admiration of the thin smile that lit up the Duke's stern face, at this moment he looked divinely peaceful.

"Come now, Your Grace, these are not noble words to say in public, and not in front of a woman either." You murmur, stifling your mirth behind your fan. "Are you the best person to speak of noble words? I remember the last ball…" He replies, teasing you. "Your Grace, you promised never to speak of that again!" You react immediately, urging him with a wave of your hand to lower the volume of his voice in the hope that no one will hear him. "I didn't…I simply mentioned the last ball. Where have I sinned?" "You are impertinent." "Oh, Miss [Name], impertinence is a sin."

You roll your eyes as your lips make contact with your glass of champagne, taking light sips to avoid repeating the same mistakes you made at the previous ball. Even now you regret drinking a little too quickly with so little food in your stomach, the result wasn't bad enough to damage your reputation in the eyes of society but… The Duke witnessed a lot of…freedom on your part.

"Your Grace." A woman's voice breaks the comfortable silence that has just settled.

You both turn towards the woman who has come forward with three daughters on her arms. Ah… A mother has just spotted him, causing the other mothers to come to him with that simple word. You offer a compassionate smile mixed with a touch of mockery as you leave him in the hungry hands of the mothers and daughters. Swallowing the bitter taste of frustration at the very idea that a woman will have the honour of becoming Lady Ackerman. The wife of such a good and kind man… while you…

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you return to the quarters you have been given for the time of your stay here, your mother is standing on the sofa in the bedroom. She closes the book and puts it down again in a terribly slow gesture. You lick your lips, suddenly nervous about what she might be telling you. There was always that imperturbable smile on your mother's face, but you knew her better than anyone. The slight wrinkle of her nose could only mean one thing: she wasn't satisfied with something. Did the discussions between her and Her Majesty The Queen go badly? You can only imagine the worst.

You take your place at your mother's side, your hands gripping hers in an attempt to comfort her or yourself. You're not sure. The impatience was going to kill you, yet she continued to remain silent. She seemed almost about to give up on telling you.

"Mother, what's the matter?" "[Your name]…I must say I should be pleased, yet I can't seem to rejoice."

You swallow your saliva with difficulty. Your fingers tighten around your mother's hands. Her fingers caress the backs of your hands in a circular motion, a gentle massage to try and soothe your raw nerves. But it brings no comfort.

"They agree to the marriage…" It wasn't a question. You let the phrase leave your lips in a silent breath. "Yes. They accept the union between our two families." "I see…" You fail to express more than those two words. "They did not specify the name. If a man caught your eye…" "No, no one caught my eye, I would marry the prince." "Are you sure, my dear child?" "Quite sure." "You still have a few weeks to think about it."

Your mother places a kiss on your forehead, leaving you alone in your room to consider the implications further. It's no longer just about you and your selfish desires. It's about the future of your family.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Miss [Name], it is an honour to meet you." "The pleasure is mine, your royal highness."

Those words stick in your throat, barely holding back the bitterness of disgust as the prince's lips brush the back of your hand. Lips that have whispered words of love to another. That have kissed the lips of another. And unlike other men, he never hid the fact that he had a mistress. Why do women have to be pure and chaste until they get married, while men do unspeakable things to 'enjoy' their youth before they tie the noose around their own necks? Why does she have to put up with the shame of a future husband who is incapable of controlling himself? Why does she have to put up with the way the prince looks at her?

For the family.

For your family, you will smile politely at the Prince, get to know him and pretend not to be repulsed by his touch. You will turn a blind eye to his actions and accept that he defiles your body with his sinful touch. For the sake of your family. For the sake of your twin sister, you will endure and accept this marriage. You know that your sister is in no state to put up with such a situation for years to come. But are you?

That tea to get to know you was as dull and miserable as the Prince's personality. He didn't want this marriage either, and he showed it shamelessly by hinting at his relationship with this opera singer. You couldn't dislike this woman. She is looking to survive, a prince is an excellent match and a protection against the harshness of everyday life for the less fortunate. You hated the prince. He is the one who initiated this relationship and who brings shame on Her Majesty The Queen and the entire royal family.

But for the sake of your family, you will turn a blind eye to this deplorable moment. You will smile at your mother's questions about your compatibility with the Prince.

"You are as beautiful as they say. Had I known sooner, I want you to know that I would have hastened from my royal duties to come and meet you." "You flatter me your royal highness. But I would be sad if you had to hasten your duties as prince to come and keep me company." You reply in the kindest tone you can muster. "You are right, after all, we could well spend the rest of our lives together."

A shiver of horror runs down your spine. Spend your life with him… for eternity. An infinitely long time. A life away from your land and your family to start one with this individual who is supposed to embody the best that the kingdom of England has to offer. But here again, you force a smile onto your face and offer a shy laugh like a sweet young damsel too modest to imagine making a life with a prince.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

How many days since this woman had approached him? She had expressed a desire to get to know him, she had persisted in talking to him despite her situation, and little by little she had dug into the abrupt façade he had built for himself as duke. And here she was, categorically refusing to stand in front of him or give him the slightest glance as she held her prince's hand and let him slide his hand lower than he should during a dance. He had always known how this story would end: badly. Despite all the warnings and dangers that his conversations with her continued to entail, Levi had found himself enjoying her company. Those moments of laughter when she momentarily forgot all about propriety. Those moments when the stars twinkled in her pupils and always fascinated him. Those moments of peace when even the most unhelpful discussions became distractions for him, even though he hates talking in vain.

This woman had forced her way into his life, only to leave as quickly as she had entered. He was angry with her. He blamed himself for having let her do it when he knew full well that a foreigner would not cross the oceans without the intention of marrying a prince.

Yet the sight of her unhappy eyes, of her thin, peaceful smile that can't deceive him… Levi hates having to be a mere witness to her fatal fate. A splendid woman with a mind and heart of gold married to a pathetic excuse for a prince. He hates how his chest boils with dull anger at the sight of this extraordinary woman trapped in invisible chains pulled by adults to gain power. For the sake of these two great families, she will sacrifice herself and accept a miserable marriage. A condemnation to torture for eternity.

But what business is it of the Duke's? None at all. He shouldn't interfere. He should be content to continue his search for a future duchess. Oh… But had he even begun his search? He didn't have the slightest recollection of having really been looking for anyone during this entire social season. For a moment, the face of that terribly annoying woman appeared in his mind. It was her again. Always her. Always [First name] [Last name].

He needed air. Immediately.

The wind hits his face as he sinks into the depths of his hosts' garden. Luckily for him, he's a man, so he's able to walk freely without his honour being called into question. And even if it wasn't, at the moment, he couldn't give a damn about his honour. His rational mind is fighting with his heart, which has decided to awaken a conscience of its own.

It's always that woman's fault.

If only she hadn't come into his life, everything would have been resolved by now. He'd already have a fiancée. He would have settled into a comfortable life far removed from the problems of being a single duke.

A creak drew him out of his thoughts. Someone was in the garden with him. Who would go this far into the gloom if it wasn't another man who was also trying to get away from greedy mothers? No… It wasn't another man, his breath catching in his throat as he laid eyes on the female figure who was the target of his internal battle.

"Miss [Name], are you unconscious? You mustn't be here alone, you're in big trouble." He tries to whisper despite his desire to scold her for such inconsiderate conduct. She was lucky to run into him and no one else, but no other noble soul should see them at the risk of causing a huge scandal.

Yet the harsh, reproving words he was about to say to her disappeared like snow in the sun. His eyes went wide as he witnessed the wet marks on the reddened cheeks of the young woman, who nevertheless had only a smile on her lips, true or false. She is crying. Alone. In the half-light of a garden. Breathing hieratically as if she has just escaped from something… or someone.

"Your Grace. Le…Levi."

A shiver caressed his body as his first name slipped from the miss’s moist lips. A name barely louder than a whisper, yet he could still hear it echoing in his mind. The sensation far surpassed his wildest thoughts. He didn't react until it was too late, when she let herself run straight into his arms. Buried against the hollow of his collarbone, she sobbed her pain, hoping for comfort. He could only guess. What was he supposed to do? Should he embrace her and risk being seen to sully the impeccable reputation of a future princess? Should he push her away and force her to go discreetly to a safer place where she would no longer fear anything? His hands clenched into a fist, he forced himself to stand still. He chose neither of the two options open to him. He couldn't go any further, just as he didn't have the strength to push her away.

"Miss [Name]. You shouldn't do that. It's dangerous." "I don't care!" "…You will soon be joining the crown jewels. I believe that soon your engagement will be announced. You must not risk ruining your future." "I have no future with such a man! You know that…you must have heard the rumours."

Who hasn't? Everyone had heard them. The prince had done everything he could to make sure the whole kingdom knew about his mistress and the two bastards he had fathered with her. He knew deep down that she would not have a bright future. But he also knew that this current situation, even if it didn't affect her, would inevitably lead her to a much more shameful and painful end than marrying an adulterous prince. At least she would have the luxury and comfort of a peaceful and secure life.

"Stand aside." He orders as firmly as he can. "Then do it." She provokes him. He knows she is trying to make a point. He orders her to step aside to perform a task he cannot. A frown bars the Duke's inexpressive face. "Miss…"

Only a whisper leaves the Duke's lips as he tilts his head to watch the miss against him embrace him as if her life depended on it. He can feel her breasts dancing against his, the layers of clothing separating them doing nothing to soften the sweet sensation of her breasts against his torso. His gaze wanders over the curve of her breasts, bulging from the corset. Enticing. Inviting. Terribly…irresistible.

"I have no future without you, Levi."

His name again. Again her bloody words to seduce him. To make him stray from the straight and narrow path he'd set for himself. He shouldn't destroy his whole life for one woman. He shouldn't…

Yet he surrendered to a kiss. He revels in the surprised moan of the woman who holds his heart in the palm of her hands. He savours with appetite and delight the faint contractions of her muscles against him, an honest and sincere body enjoying the heated kiss. He's going to engulf her. He feels he is capable of ravishing her essence and soul with this kiss, because he wants everything she has to offer. He wants to be able to caress the radiance she embodies with his fingertips.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

His lips glide down your neck, covering every inch of accessible skin with light, velvety kisses. These simple little touches electrify your raw nerves. Your hands grasp his shoulders, in the faint hope of supporting you as your legs buckle under your own weight. You feel his kisses linger on your sweet spot, a moan slips from your lips but you can't hold it in. The petticoats of your dress lift as the Duke's hands roam over your bare thighs to find your crotch clad in fabric so thin he can feel the moisture seeping through. You collapse under the weight of the new sensations of ecstasy. Pleasure seeps into every pore of your body.

"L-Levi."

His name has become an unholy prayer. A sacred mantra that keeps your mind from slipping into the depths of this new ecstasy. His fingers encircle this sensitive little bud, caressing you through the fabric, actively working to introduce you to a new world. His lips cover yours in an instant, silencing your unholy moans from echoing too loudly in the darkness of the garden.

"[First name]…you are the bane of my existence. You are my dearest sin."

Never mind if you get caught…right now, only the two of you matter.

I just know if you asked Levi to send you a dick pic the response would be:

And then there'd be several minutes of no response where you aren't sure if he's actually upset or not, followed by the most unflattering, kinda-blurry picture of his cock.

He's sitting, thighs spread wide, and his slacks are only barely tucked down beneath it. You can see the dark trail of his public hair, thick against his extra pale skin, peaking out from where he has his dress shirt pulled up. You can barely follow the blue lines of his veins twisting along his abdomen, and you can tell that he's a little flushed and sweaty. He's not even holding his cock, it's hard and flushed a needy pink and the tip is shiny with a ooze of glistening white, angled straight up towards his belly.

The angle is terrible, clearly he's just pulled himself out and tilted the camera down between his thighs. The tip of him is somehow directly facing the camera, and you can see a trail of cum beading out from the little hole there that must be throbbing oh-so-needily. It's blurry as hell though, you don't know if he couldn't figure out how to focus the camera in the lighting of his office or if his hand was shaking. Maybe he just so happened to twitch at the exact moment he clicked. There's also a hint of his thumb in the upper right corner, which somehow makes it more endearing.

The picture is immediately followed by another text:

[1] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: Windex and Baking Soda

WC: 7,182 Chapter Warnings: slight angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. story masterlist > next chapter

“It’s always my pleasure, Mr. Brown.”

The corporate smile on your face drops as soon as you hit the end button in the video call application on your laptop. It was the first meeting of the day with a client and you were already exhausted, wanting nothing but to go home and curl up in bed, heavily surrounded by your pillows and weighted blanket for hours. But you know that’s a dream that would remain a fantasy for a while. Why? Because it’s a Monday. It’s only the start of the week and judging from the pile of paperwork delivered to your desk this morning, you would have to work overtime again for the third week in a row. 

Being recently hired by one of the top leading firms in the country is a blessing you will be thankful for every day but as the week goes by and you’re on your fifth pile of paperwork, more than ten meetings in one week, you can’t help but think what would it be like to work for a small, quiet firm. You shrug those thoughts away as soon as they come. You’re grateful for the more-than-average salary the firm provides, at least.

The day went on as it always does: hours of you trying to ignore your back pain. It was becoming unbearable and you can’t even use the ointments your grandmother used to insist you use because it would no doubt infest the building with its smell—your reputation and first impression from your coworkers is at stake. 

As you’re typing back an email from your superior, Atty. Dot Pixis, you halt when you feel the buzzing on your table. You pick it up mindlessly, checking to see the notification. A smile spreads on your face to see that it’s your previous boss, Vanessa. 

hey. how’s working with the big leagues?? pixis is not tiring you out too much is he?? i can give him a word if you want.

pixis is treating me really well, nes. thank u for checking up on me! i miss everyone there at the firm and little ian :(( 

Vanessa, besides being your former boss back in Olsen & Associates, is also your friend and self-proclaimed older sister. She's a well-known attorney, and Olsen is a legend back in law school because she’s an alumnus who’s actually cool and doesn’t have their head up their asses. However, after deciding to settle down and start a family, she opened up a small firm in her hometown. 

i might just have to visit bc i miss my little sis :(( should’ve never let u leave

technically, it’s your fault i left 

i know :( don't remind me

Two months ago, Vanessa told you that ODM is hiring and Pixis contacted her to see if she knows anyone to take the job. Your jaw dropped to the ground when she told you she recommended you and you can send in your resume if you’re interested. It was an offer no one could pass up so before you knew it, you were being hauled into a hours-long bus ride and then anxiously seated for an interview in the city you used to live in. And after about a week of being a nervous wreck waiting for their response, you were contacted that you’ve been selected for the position.

Now here you are, finally settled in your office. You still can’t believe you have your own space in this huge building. You would’ve never thought you’d be working here in the firm you only used to stare at in awe while passing by years ago. 

Although, you have to admit that you miss the warm feeling of the small firm where you all know each other, exchange heartfelt greetings, and gossip when there are not too many clients. Now, you pass by a new face every now and then, most not even bothering to greet you or spare you a look. You can’t blame them. The work here is drastic. 

By the time you left the office, it’s already dark and way past office hours. As you were driving home, you remembered you still needed a few supplies in your apartment. You haven’t exactly settled yourself in, prioritizing work more. God, you even still had a few boxes to unpack. 

You stopped by a 24-hour supermarket that you spotted on your way to work this morning when you had to reroute because of the traffic. It was a little out of the way but it would do. It was still two hours before midnight, anyway.

As you drag your feet through the aisles and drop whatever you felt like you needed in the cart, unwanted memories come creeping in. The air in Paradis City is still the same. Even if a few buildings might have changed or some stores you used to frequent have closed down, it was still the same Paradis you knew—a buzzing city filled with dreams. The streets are never empty, famously congested by students from top universities or office workers. 

When you got the offer for the job, you weighed out the pros and cons. There were only two cons you were able to determine:

You don’t want to leave Olsen & Associates and Vanessa’s hometown, Trost, and

You’d be going back to your hometown, the one you promised not to go back to. 

The pros outweigh the cons, obviously. That weight being the thick fat salary you would be getting. Besides, Paradis is huge and has like three million residents. It’s not like you’d cross paths with him. And it’s been years. He probably forgot all about you anyway. You barely think about him. It was just a silly puppy-love relationship. No biggie.

Keep telling yourself that.

Shut up. 

“That one’s better.”

A voice directed to you made you snap out of your thoughts. It made you painfully aware of how you had been staring at the two options of green tea in your hand for probably more than the normal minutes it takes one to decide. The tall brunette had on a face mask covering half his face, his hair parted in the middle, and he wore a simple light blue button-down and black slacks. He was about two feet away from you when he pointed at the tea canister in your right hand. 

“Oh. Thanks,” you replied sheepishly. Desperate to run away from the embarrassment of zoning out in the middle of a public space, you take his advice and put down the canister on your left hand back to the shelf. 

“You’re welcome. I see my friend drinking it all the time so it has to be good,” he nods and you see his cheeks prop up, probably sporting a smile beneath the mask. You smiled back and thanked him again.

“Can you grab that one for me?” He points at a sweet one, a flavor in contrast with the green tea you chose. It was on the shelf being blocked by your cart beside you. You quickly mutter an apology and reach for a can. 

“My fiancée prefers her tea fruity,” he explains even if you didn’t ask, his ears tinted a bit red from his own statement. You immediately find it endearing. He seems very fond of his partner as he continues to babble about her. “Well actually, she prefers coffee with an unhealthy amount of espresso shots but I eventually persuaded her to drink tea once in a while.” 

“Moby! I know we usually don’t get this brand but guess what? This has a free pink sponge!” 

You freeze at the sound of that awfully loud and familiar cheerful voice heading towards you at a fast pace. You couldn’t turn your head. Your fingers unconsciously grip the can you’re holding harshly with wide eyes. Silently, you were wishing that the person just had the same voice as the crazed tall woman with glasses you used to know or the man beside you isn’t named ‘Moby.’ The former would hardly be the case because from the sound of the voice, the personality of being uncaring of the silent atmosphere of the supermarket, and the way she ran excitedly from your peripheral vision, you were sure that this person was your old friend Hange. For the latter, your last hope dies down as you see the stranger turn his head at the sound of his name and reply with a sigh.

“What the hell are you gonna do with a sponge, babe? We have lots of sponges.”

“Okay but imagine! We swap out Levi’s sponge with a pink one.” 

“I don’t think Levi cares about the color as long as it cleans.”

The fight or flight response in you went crazy at the mention of the name you haven’t heard in years, heavily leaning on the former. You could just hand this guy named Moby’s tea and make a run for it. You doubt Hange would care while being heavily invested in her free pink sponge. 

But why would you run? You only run when you’re scared or did something wrong. Which is it? It can't be the latter, right? 

I did. 

Oh? So you did. You’re scared, huh? That she’d get angry at you for what you did back then. 

I am. 

Run then. That’s all you know to do anyway.

Shut up. Leave me alone. 

“Miss? Are you okay?” 

For the second time in front of the same stranger, you were snapped out of your trance and find yourself gripping the can so hard that you think you’ve made a light dent on the can. Damn, you should really get a decent amount of sleep. You’ve been losing it a lot lately. 

You shake your head and slap your cheek lightly with your free hand. “Sorry. Lack of sleep. I’m fine. Here.” 

You turn to him and hand him the can, hoping he wouldn’t mind the barely noticeable dent you made. Purposely, you don’t stray your eyes away from the man. You don’t want to be the first person to acknowledge Hange. Maybe she doesn’t even remember you. Maybe she doesn’t even want to acknowledge you. 

“Greenie?” 

It was more of a mutter. But with how loud Hanji’s voice is, you and Moby clearly heard it. 

That’s when you look at her and actually see her. She looks the same as you saw her last. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and her brown eyes were covered by thick-rimmed glasses. Nothing much has changed from her appearance except for the disappearance of the youthful look now replaced by maturity. Her gaze is fixed on you, slack-jawed. Her reaction doesn’t surprise or faze you, having expected that much. It’s what would follow that you’re nervous about. What would she say? Will she get angry at you? Or will she even remember who you are? Somehow, you dread that last possible outcome worst. 

“H-Hange,” you breathily let out. You wonder if it’s audible. 

Her fiancé also looks shocked, staring at you and then back to Hanji with widened eyes. “This is Greenie? The Greenie?” He points at you while asking Hange who was still frozen. His tone and reference to you immediately tell you that you have been discussed with people you never met, no doubt now knowing your past with them. 

Greenie. You haven’t heard that nickname in a while. 

It was silent for a few seconds, eyes not straying from each other. You probably look apologetic—scared, even. The man beside her is waiting too. You think he’s having a mini breakdown in disbelief. 

When you see her start to lunge at you, you shut your eyes, expecting her palm to collide with your cheek. You expect her to slap you and scream at you in the middle of the cold supermarket. You expect her to ask you where you got the nerve to come back to the city after all you’ve done. 

Instead, what she did broke down all your expectations. 

Long and slender arms wrap around your figure, pulling you tightly to her chest. Your face is squished against the fabric of her fluffy parka jacket. Even if you suddenly have trouble breathing with how tight her hug is, you were thankful that it covered your face and how you were biting your lower lip, trying to suppress the relief that comes with tears.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You couldn’t even answer. Or move at all. Not that you even know what to say. 

“Hange. You’re killing her.” You hear her partner say. Hange instantly loosens her grip on you, muttering an apology with a slight chuckle. When she looks down at you, you give her a gentle smile.

“I missed you too, Hange.” And you meant it. 

The tall woman was still not letting you go, arms wrapped just below your shoulders because of the height difference. Even if you were caged in her arms, you can still tilt your head up to look at her. Suddenly, tears started streaming down her face as she tilts her head down to you, her mouth quivering. Then it turns into full-on sobbing. You chuckle as she starts swaying you with her, going side to side like a pendulum as she sobs while wailing your name repeatedly. 

There was no stopping Hange when she gets like this. So you let it happen. You let her hug you like she did many times before. You relish the moment, wanting to pass out and let loose in her hold. Maybe you’re dreaming and you’ll wake up in your bed, filled with disappointment and yearning for some warmth.

When she was satisfied, she let you go and introduced you to Moblit, her fiancé and coworker. They walked with you as you continued to shop, telling you stories about her and Moblit. Thankfully for your sake, she didn’t ask you much about yourself or what happened when you were away. She just asked how you were doing right now and what you were doing in the city. Although you were scared that the news would get to him, you told her the truth that you recently got hired at the law firm. 

“So you moved back then? Like permanently?” Her brows raised in excitement. 

“Well, I have a temporary contract for six months before I’m permanently employed there so hopefully,” you shrug while heading to checkout. As expected, Hange doesn’t care that you practically explained that it’s technically a ‘not yet,’ she shrieks and jumps up and down anyway. 

“Oh my god, this is perfect! Greenie, one of my bridesmaids had to back out but we already had the dress paid and it’s a no-refund. Can you step in for her and attend our wedding? Would you? Please? Please?” Hange begs you, hands clasped together as she stares at you with puppy eyes and a pout. 

You stop in your tracks and feel your heart sink to the ground. She wants you to attend her wedding knowing that many, if not everyone, you used to know will be there. And if his name was so casually mentioned earlier, that meant that they were still very much best friends and he would definitely be there.

And a few minutes ago you were convincing yourself that you wouldn’t accidentally run into him in this city. Now, you have to actually see him and be in the same room for a few hours? 

You start with a chuckle. “Oh. I wouldn’t mean to impose—” 

You were abruptly overpowered by her loud negation. “No, you wouldn’t! Everyone would be ecstatic to see you! I swear.” 

“But—“

Hange sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping with a pout on her face. “I guess it’d be too much, wouldn’t it? You’re probably busy, right? Right. Sorry, I just got excited.” She turns to her boyfriend. “Moby, can you pay for our stuff and Greenie’s too?” 

“What?”

Your eyes widened but before you could protest or take a strong hold on your cart, Moblit was already dragging it away and sending a flying kiss to Hange who giggled like a schoolgirl to catch it with her fist. You turn to her in disbelief as he turns his back. She catches your face, knowing what you’re about to say. 

“It’s fine. That won’t make a dent in his bank account.”

Just like that, you were painfully reminded how no one could get a word in with Hange. 

“Un-fucking-believeable.” 

Niccolo, the training chef, flinched from behind him when the silver-eyed man let out an unprovoked profanity as he entered the restaurant. Connie, his loyal secretary, doesn’t even bat an eye at the unprofessional behavior of his boss, only following behind him with a straight face. 

“Shithead. Call Nile later. Tell him I want a new team on this…” his words halt in disgust as he sees the unfinished, poorly done walls of what was to be a new branch of Kuchel’s. “or I’ll fire his stupid construction company out of every damn project. Verbatim.” 

“Will do, sir.” Connie nods, mentally sighing. Not only is he used to hearing the profanities, but he’s also used to being ordered to say it too. 

Levi nods at his secretary’s response, eager to leave the abomination that was supposed to be at 80% progress at this date. As he turns, he’s faced with Connie and a blonde man he doesn’t know. 

“Who’s this?” 

The blonde man practically shivered at his haze, the corner of his lips twitching at the sides. It was a sad attempt at a smile. Mentally, Connie sighed at his boss’ unfocused mind when there was something that greatly irritates him. The trainee chef was just literally in the car with them and Levi told Connie to bring the chef with them on the way to check the new location. 

“This is Niccolo, sir. He was in the car with us. He’s the one highly considered by the HR,” Connie expertly answered. 

“So you’re on the last stage,” Levi addresses Niccolo. The nervous man gulps but answers. “Yes, sir.” 

Connie watches the exchange, feeling a bit of pity for the tall man cowering at the gaze of such a short guy with a temper taller than a skyscraper. He was exactly like this when Levi interviewed him for the position. 

“Sorry, I had to make a detour because some shitheads can’t do their job right. Let’s go.” 

And so Niccolo and Connie followed the grumpy man back to the vehicle they just got not even three minutes ago. 

Not that he knew what to expect or had guesses but Niccolo was utterly surprised that he was brought to the first Kuchel’s restaurant. The legendary one that went viral. 

When he passed by the reception area, his eyes widened when he saw the reservation list filled with no spots left. It was practically booked for the month from what he saw. 

The kitchen smelled amazing, each one of the cooks was busy and they actually looked happy while working. They worked with so much coordination and laughter like he had never seen before. 

He thought that he’d train or cook with them today, seeing as they’re Kuchel’s main branch’s team. He was excited too. But again, Levi surprises him when he pushes another door open from the kitchen, revealing a staircase. The man says nothing but climbs upstairs. 

Confused but too scared to ask, Niccolo only stares at Connie but who beckons him to follow him up the stairs. When he sees Levi take a glance behind him, his feet move on its own, following the cold short man’s steps.

He sees a living room first. It’s a simple home but maintained well enough to look pristine. He kept on following Levi as he eventually led him to a kitchen. Levi turned to him and he’d be lying if he said that his heart didn’t jump at his sudden order. 

“Do whatever you like. You have an hour.” 

And then he leaves the kitchen, leaving Niccolo confused as he looks around at the domestic kitchen. He sees Connie, Levi’s assistant aggressively mouthing the words ‘cook anything’ as he follows Levi back to the living room. 

“Good job. I think he liked it.” 

Connie whispers to Niccolo before he leaves. Normally, he isn’t allowed to tell the training chefs what Levi thinks. But he’s feeling a little silly and Niccolo is his friend and his best friend, Sasha’s, boyfriend. 

Just like all the other training chefs, Levi brought Niccolo to his old home to cook something for him. Levi is hella picky with them but Connie could see that he actually liked his friend’s food. There was no pursing of lips, which was the worst of them all. Connie had to scramble and get the trainee out before he burst the room into a myriad of colorful words no one wants to hear. 

When they got back to the office, Hange was already there and most probably uninvited. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, four eyes?” 

Levi’s eyes were seething with annoyance as he sees his friend sitting at his desk on his chair, spinning around like an idiot. It was hard to believe that this woman is a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. 

“Shorty! You’re here!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the fine wood of Levi’s desk to stop the chair from spinning. 

“Get the fuck up before I strangle you to death, Hange.” 

Hange chuckles but stands up anyway, skipping before plopping herself on the couch in Levi’s office. “Can you relax? I was just here to remind you that I’m getting married.” 

Levi groans and rolls his eyes. “Who would fucking forget, Hange? You text a fucking countdown at seven in the morning in the group chat tagged to everyone. The mute option has been fucking useless since you learned how to do it.” 

Levi sits down on his chair and switches on his computer to return to work despite his friend’s unsolicited visit to his office. 

“Oh! I wanted to ask you something too! Do you have a date for the wedding? So I can take note of a plus one, maybe?” 

He gives a blank stare to his friend for a second before turning back to his screen. “You know you can ask me that through a phone call, right?” He began typing away on his laptop, answering a few emails Connie forwarded to him. 

“Well, you blocked my number so I thought that you’d rather see me in person.” Hange shrugs with a grin.

Levi pauses, remembering that he did block Hange’s number that one night she insisted for he come over and watch a horror movie with Erwin and Moblit. He was working and couldn’t turn his phone on do not disturb mode so he had to specifically block Hange’s calls. He then proceeds to forget to unblock her until now. 

“So, no date?” Hange presses further. 

Levi grunts, annoyed at the stupid question. “Who the fuck am I gonna bring? It’s not like I’m gonna bring a random girl to your wedding, Hange.” 

“You totally could. They’re called escorts,” Hange suggests like a know-it-all.

“I don’t want a random stranger in your wedding pictures, four eyes.” 

“I would rather have that than see you so depressing in my pictures with your bitch face. Oh! Want me to set you up on a blind date?” Hange’s voice rises again, something that happens when she gets excited over an idea. 

“Fuck no,” Levi spat. 

“Your last serious relationship was decades ago, Levi. Give it a try again.” 

If looks could kill, funeral flowers would be thrown at Hange’s casket instead of wedding flowers. His fingers hover over the keyboard, hanging frozen at her words. At the mere implication of you, his blood boils and his chest tightens. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well–”

“Are you saying I’m not over her again, Hange?” 

Before she could answer, the door swung open, revealing a tall blonde man with thick eyebrows who was grinning cheek to cheek. Great. Erwin’s here. Maybe they could send a few more uninvited people, order greasy pizza, and have a party in his office. 

“Over who?” Erwin asks, ever the gossip man. Levi grunts and rests his forehead in his palms as Hange greets Erwin enthusiastically before answering.

“You know who.”

Erwin narrows his eyes at Levi before sitting down on the other edge of the couch. Hange tells him about getting a blind date. “You could try, Hange. I’ve set him up with surprise blind dates before and you know how that went.” 

“Can you two fucking shut up and leave? I’m trying to work here,” Levi spat in annoyance. The pair ignores his grumbling, carrying on their conversation like he wasn’t in the room.

“But I have never set him up with someone before,” Hange points out. 

Erwin purses his lips. “I doubt that you can find a girl better than me, Hange. I tried everything.” 

Erwin and Hange look at each other with mischief, clearly enjoying Levi’s suffering from their teasing. He knows they won’t stop. If anything, it only egged them on further.

Hange places a finger on her chin obnoxiously. “Maybe you could ask the girl to wear green next time.” 

Erwin nods, crossing his arms like he’s actually considering it. “Absolutely. We all know Levi still loves his greenie.” 

God, even her nickname is a pain to hear. 

Levi slams a hand down his mahogany desk so loud that people outside his office probably heard it. It didn’t faze his friends who were snickering on the couch though. They know he’s about to blow. He’s so frustrated that he almost ran a finger through his well-kept hair but caught himself before damaging it, exhaling loudly in frustration before speaking. 

“Look, you dipshits. I told you a thousand times. Forget about that damned woman. I’m not dating because I’m goddamn busy with all these expansions, not because I’m not over a girl who left us all without a fucking trace.” Every word is laced with venom and he ends it with a huff. 

“Fine. We get it. You’re over her but you’re still angry at her.” Hange rolls her eyes. 

Levi doesn’t know exactly when they started referring to her as mere stories or inside jokes. But evidently, it turned out that way. They used to be hurt at the thought of her disappearing. Slowly, they started to forget. Except him. He’s still angry and confused when he thinks of a reason why. 

“I am,” he admits.

“And if she comes to see you again? What will you do?” 

This question again, Levi thinks. 

He sighs. Like an automated machine, he answers the question as he did a myriad of times before, the first being the answer to one of your stupid games of what-if questions when you were together. Most were just ways to make him say those damn three words to you. It was usually just dumb things like “What if I was a worm?” and he would roll his eyes and tell you that he would unhesitatingly kill you before kissing you when you frown in disappointment. One question, however, deeply offended him more than anything. 

“Levi, what if I asked you to break up with me?” 

You were sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs, still reeling from the sad romantic movie the two of you watched where the disabled paralyzed man still decides to die even after he fell in love with his caregiver. 

Levi, who’s in the middle of choosing another movie from your collection of DVDs, freezes in his seat. He doesn’t turn to look at you but you see his whole body tensed up having heard what you said.

“What if we break up like that?” 

You repeat the question with a pout on your lips. Levi finally looks at you with a frown on his face. He sighs and looks away, gaze lifting up for a second as if he’s thinking. 

“No,” he answers even if the question upsets him. “We’re not gonna break up.”

You noticed that his mood falters from your question.  Feeling a little bad, you wrap a hand around his bicep, pulling yourself close to his side. With a smile, you lean in and give him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be sad. It was just hypothetical.”

He instantly leans unto you. He always does so when you’re near—like opposite sides of a magnet being pulled together by force. He always wants to be near you.

“Can you just go back to stupid questions like the worm shit?” He asks with a low voice, faces too close to each other that his lips could brush yours. 

You give him a teasing grin and hum, nodding but doing the exact opposite of what he asked. Ever his stubborn girl, you continue asking. “But what if I leave you?” 

He glares at you, not very pained this time, knowing it’s just you teasing again. Instead, his brows furrowed as he gazed down at you with his silver eyes. His eyes flick down to your lips and his lower lip brushes against yours for a millisecond. When you were sure he was about to kiss you, he shoves a hand at your face and pushes you away with a little force, making you land on the couch on your back. 

You laugh but curse him out loud for his attack. Levi huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“If you do that, I will ignore you for the rest of my fucking life. You’re dead to me.” He says it with so much conviction that you know he doesn’t mean a word of it. 

You sit up again, frowning then lightly slapping his shoulder. “That’s rude. What if I come back to see you, then?” 

He scoffs loudly, still looking away from you, and spots his box of cleaning supplies. Then, he says the second thing that comes into his mind, thinking that the first one he thought of would seem desperate and pathetic of him. 

He opens his mouth to speak and the words you hear from him causes an ever louder laugh out of you. He smiles before pushing you on your back again. This time, pulling himself on top of you and sealing your lips with a kiss. 

“I’d spray her with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on her stupid face, and kick her out.” 

Usually, the statement is so funny to them that it ends the conversation. Sometimes, he even gives them a demonstration where one of their unlucky friends gets to be on the receiving end. But this time, Erwin has a follow-up question that goes straight to Levi’s chest.

“And if she insists on staying? What will you do?” 

Levi went quiet. Hange and Erwin give a knowing sad look at each other that Levi doesn’t catch. They didn’t mean to push him this hard. But they had to know if he was ready. 

From just outside his door where Connie’s desk is placed, his secretary listens in as well. He heard about his boss’ ex. The whole office knows about it. His mysterious ex and the only woman Levi Ackerman loved. That was what everyone knew. But from spending too much time with his boss more than he wanted to, Connie had learned the following about his boss’ only relationship:

Her nickname is Greenie because she liked green tea. Levi prefers black tea but he accidentally told you he liked green tea too then ran with it for four months until Hanji revealed the truth accidentally.

The four of them knew each other for a long time. He doesn’t know if they met in high school or college. But in school, definitely.

After getting their undergraduate degree, she asked Levi to break up and broke his heart with words.

After the breakup, she disappeared from Paradis. Levi waited for her for a long time, broken and yearning. She didn’t come back. Now, all Levi has is bitterness in his body.

Those are what Connie gathered from his little detective skills to cope with having to work under the horribly mannered man. Then, he shares it with his best friend, Sasha, during his lunch break. 

He listens a little more, the email he was reading sitting idle for longer than it should. His boss still doesn’t answer. 

Inside, Erwin and Hange await their friend’s reply who is still lost in his own thoughts. Erwin decides to push him one last time. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“If she comes to you for closure, will you accept it? You’re over her, right? You can stay angry, that’s valid. She did you wrong. But will you at least hear her?” 

Levi keeps quiet but listens to Erwin. The word closure gives his stomach an unsettling feeling. It felt wrong to hear it. But it doesn’t matter. His friends were just bored and bluffing again. He can bluff too. 

“I don’t really care about her as much as you think I still do. When I see her, I’ll do what I said I would. Then it’s done. I don’t care what she does anymore.” 

It’s been five days since you coincidentally met Hange and Moblit. Before you parted ways, you exchanged numbers and your old friend has been messaging you nonstop. You appreciated it. Hange was always light-hearted and kind. You’re glad she found someone who appreciates her and takes care of her. So when she mentioned that there was a conflict with the invitations, you offered to fix it for her, knowing a thing or two about it. You handled project management a few times as an intern. 

There was once a time when you called her your best friend. You know that’s a title you no longer hold but either way, you were glad to talk to her again. Even if you know that in the very near future, you would have to face what it holds for you. Now that Hange is back in your life, it’s only a matter of time and you’d have to see your ex again. You lie awake at night thinking of what you’d do then. 

It was Saturday. That means no work for you after lunch, thankfully. You ground through your paper works and clients like a corporate machine all week, wanting to finish them before Saturday so you wouldn’t have to go overtime on a weekend. And after about nine cups of highly caffeinated green tea, you finally finished all your work for the week. Now free from the shackles of labor and capitalism, you slung your tote bag over your shoulder and headed out of your office and onto the elevator. 

Passing by Pixis’ office, you inform him you’re taking your leave which he cheerfully allowed, wishing you a happy weekend before you left his office. You bid him to have the same and left the building, anxious to see through the next events of the day. If this was a normal weekend, you’d be content with wasting away in bed as soon as you rushed home. 

You handled the invitations over the week, using your break time to oversee how it’s going with the printing service you trust for things like this. They generously accepted your request for a rush order, knowing who you are. 

The invitations were piled into a box on your coffee table by Friday, ready to be sent out to Hange’s guests. When you texted Hange that they were ready, she sent over her apartment’s address, telling you to personally meet her there on Saturday after work. She argues when you tell her you can just send it in the same day through an app, whining about how she wants to hang out with you. 

Hange, ever the persuasive and persistent person, got you to agree. That, and you still feel guilty for declining her invitation to her wedding. 

After you press the doorbell, you wait patiently with your left hand holding the small box of invitations. Her apartment was apparently a penthouse. An apartment in this building already costs an arm and a leg. Hange is smart and talented, one of her research must’ve been really successful. You also remembered that she was probably living with Moblit here. Ah, the wonders of having a partner in life—shared rent. Maybe you should get a roommate. 

When the door was taking too long to be answered, you shoot up a text for Hange. 

hey i’m here outside ur door ! :)) 

ok! just wAit a bit

It didn’t take Hange long to reply, easing your anxiety a little. When it takes more than a minute after she sends her text, you tilt your head in confusion. Are you at the correct address? Maybe you’re at the wrong unit. You were pretty sure you were on the right one, though. You rechecked it a few times. 

You wait a little bit more before ringing the doorbell again. You assume she’s probably grossed into something and can’t take the door at the moment. With a sigh, you wait a few more minutes, turning away from the door and deciding to scroll through your social media accounts that you barely use. 

A smile involuntarily plasters itself on your face when you see the posts of your coworkers from Trost. Warmth spreads to your chest as you see the office through the pictures, reminiscing your time there. It’s suddenly frightening, the realization that you’re alone in this huge city with no one to turn to. It’s a feeling you’re awfully familiar with, a state you’d rather not return to. 

When you feel yourself drift away to those thoughts, you pull yourself away immediately, figuring that the time you waited should be enough to press the doorbell again. 

But as you turn around to press it for the second time, the door swings open harshly in a swift motion, making you jump a little in surprise and fear as you hear an annoyed groan from a man that is most definitely not Hange coming with it. 

“For fuck’s sake. Did Hange give a woman my addre…”

The two of you froze. 

The raven-dark hair parted in the middle. The undercut. Those gray eyes and his beautiful piercing gaze. Those high cheekbones and soft cheeks. Those furrowed brows and scrunched forehead that was softly dissipated from his face when he sees you standing behind the door. Those delicate pink lips, now parted in awe and mirroring yours.

Neither of you can move like you were frozen in time. Every muscle in your body refused to move. Your brain stopped functioning and wasn't even able to conjure a coherent thought, much less a response. The only thing you could do was stare at the man you once called home. 

He still had dark under eyes but they were more prominent than before. You hate how it still suited him even if you hated how little he sleeps; they make his gaze heavier, willing you to get lost with him. A few strands of his fringe fall over his eyes. They were a little longer than what you were used to but it was still the same haircut you used to run your hand over when you were cuddling. It was a little unkempt. And even though his white shirt is a little crumpled, it still smoothly falls over his frame. It drapes from his defined shoulders to his waist until the hem of the shirt goes over the band of his gray sweatpants that hugged his legs loosely. 

He breaks the gaze spell when his eyes go over you, top to bottom. He stares at your shocked and devastated countenance, the casual but decent clothes that you changed into after work, the box in your hand, and the way your right foot has stepped further back than your left when he opened the door, ready to run away at the thought the man who opened the door was angry. 

You open your mouth to speak. You know you have to say something. Anything. Hi? Hello? How are you? Is this where Hange lives? Why the fuck do you still look so hot? 

But none of that comes out.

Why? 

Levi’s face hardens before you can speak, wiping off the bewildered eyes and replacing them with his infamous glare, silver eyes glistening with specks of anger. His mouth closes into a frown but not before scoffing at you. The scorned expression on his face shuts you right up for a second but you try and carry on.

This time, before you can speak, he slams the door shut in your face with an impact so loud it booms through your whole being enough to raise all the hair on your skin, leaving you standing there in his floor’s corridor appalled and deeply belittled.

Your startled brain is more confused than ever. As you decide to slowly process what happened and not even ten seconds after he harshly shuts his door, it swings open again, revealing the same man who not-so-gently shut it, with a hand still on the knob and the other holding something blue.

His arm outstretched towards you and you were faced with a nozzle of a familiar spray bottle. With a straight face, he sprays the fucking liquid right on your face. You immediately shut your eyes and mouth, leaning your face away from the spray. Although it’s far enough to not cover your face if you hadn’t moved, you still cringe when you feel the tiny droplets on your skin.

You lift one eye open, scared that he’s about to spray again. He puts the bottle down to his side, looking satisfied with his work. When you open both eyes, he shuts the door again, leaving you in the corridor with heightened emotions from the first time he did it paired with an itching aggravation. 

Was that a fucking Windex? 

Hold on. Windex? 

The door swings open again and he fully reveals himself without a hand on the knob like the two times before. This time he’s holding an orange cardboard box labeled Pure Baking Soda and reaches into it with his other hand. 

You shut your eyes close immediately, realizing what was happening when you remembered his words to you years ago. 

“I’d spray you with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on your face, and kick you out.” 

The baking soda hits your face, making your nose involuntarily scrunch up because of the fistful of powder he threw at you. When you guess that he’s satisfied after successfully throwing you the promised baking soda, you blink your eyes open, finding him still standing there with a straight face. 

“Are you done?” you asked with a deadpan face, covered with baking soda.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

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[2] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 2: Wedding Invitations

WC: 8,654 Chapter Warnings: angst kinda ^^, reader and levi argue a lot Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do.

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The corner of his lips twitched, almost forming a smirk but it drops back into a frown in a millisecond enough for you to almost believe you may have hallucinated it. 

“I have to kick you out,” he answered smoothly.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his sneering gaze, and tried to wipe your dusted face with your free hand while asking. “Does Hange live here?”

He inhales, exasperated as he leans on the door frame. “Why the fuck would Hange live in my place? Is she homeless?” 

You close your eyes for a moment again, trying to calm your excessively beating heart, repeatedly reminding yourself to have patience and just get away from here as soon as possible.

If there is one thing Levi knows to do, it’s to rile you up. You didn’t think they fell in love at first sight, did you? No. You completely annoyed the hell out of him. When you entered the room, you flirted with him because you simply found it astonishing. His ears get so red when you call him cute or profess your crush on him in front of everyone. You, if not Hange, were often the receiver of his deadly glares.

“I don’t fucking know? Maybe she fucking told me she lives here,” you reply, waving your phone in from of his face. 

He stares at the device in your hands. A phone from a high-end brand. Vanessa gave it to you as a gift recently. It’s the latest model they had. 

“Well, would you look at that? It looks like you have a phone,” he states the obvious, blankly staring at it before your words sink into him, making his brows perk up in curiosity. “Hold on. Did you say Hange texted you?” 

You trailed off, tilting your head in confusion. “Uh… yeah?” 

Levi goes quiet, then turns to toss the box of powder somewhere inside. He leaves the door open and is quickly facing you again. If you were to be asked, you’d say that a look of hurt flashed on his face. But what do you know? You may not know who he is anymore. A lot can change in a year, much less seven years. 

It was beginning to be uncomfortable, the silence that suddenly loomed between the two of you. Deciding enough is enough, you cleared your throat to catch his attention. 

“You know what? Maybe she made a mistake. I’ll go. We can just say you kicked me out if you want,” you suggest the last sentence before letting out a painfully awkward fake laugh. You turn on your heels, ready to erase the look of his face in your brain. 

As you step forward, fingers wrap around your elbow and before you know it, you are being pulled back to where you stood earlier. You turn your head to Levi with wide eyes, stumbling and losing your balance until another hand catches your hips, steadying you in place. 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when you realize how close your face is to his, mere inches away from each other. His hardened gaze falters, an unreadable one stares into your eyes. From this short distance, the musky and pine-like scent fills your nose—the same smell you used to wake up to every day. His breath smells like the tea he drinks. His face is sharper but they remain soft. Even at this age, his features still look younger than he actually is. Levi has always been beautiful even with a permanent scowl on his face.  

One of the fingers still wrapped around your waist twitches and the movement sent you to hypersensitivity. You become too sensitive to how his hand curls on your arm, how the other grips your waist, and how your faces are too close for comfort—it becomes suffocating for reasons you don’t want to disclose to yourself. 

You tug yourself free of his hold, turning around and facing him. With a glare, you spat out with furrowed brows. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

His response was immediate, knocking you out of your breath.

“Stay.”

One word. One word and your anger dissipates. 

If you had decided to tie your hair, you’re sure he’d see the tips of your ear redden. You breathe out a soft but confused response. “What?” 

He shifts his gaze to the side, avoiding your eyes. A mannerism he does when he’s shy. “You can come in. Hange’s supposed to come today.” 

“Oh.” You peek behind him where you see a glimpse of his personal space. He wants you to enter his home alone with him? What would you even talk about? You don’t doubt it’d be awkward. Wait. He lives alone, right? Not that you should care. But still, if he has a partner, it’d be weird to have your ex-girlfriend in your home. 

“It’s fine. I could just wait for Hange in the lobby.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he rolls his eyes. “Just come in.” 

“But—,” you try to protest again.

“Hange will drag you up here anyway. It’s a long way down.”

“It’s literally one elevator ride,” you point at the elevator behind you. 

Levi sighs, arms crossed in front of his chest again. This time, your eyes drift from the smooth pale skin of his forearms, his biceps, to the chest that they pressed onto, and you notice that his toned muscles are more defined than it was before. It’s not the first thing noticeable about him, but he always had a great physique. He takes care of his body well and is much stronger than he looks. You remember how he could easily tackle men twice his size, that man being your old friend, Erwin. Your gaze on him only passed for a second, careful not to let him notice your stare. 

“Fine. Suit yourself.” 

Nodding, you turn your back on him again, having already decided to reject his invitation to enter his home. You had even taken a few steps away and best believe you really would have gone to the lobby as you planned. You would’ve, really, if it wasn’t for you remembering the state of your face. 

Reluctantly, you spin on your heels. Facing him now with much more distance between you, you swallowed down the humiliation creeping into your face. He’s still standing there, straight-faced and watching you leave from his door frame.

“Levi.” 

Saying his name sent your head mildly spinning. It’s a name you were adamant about not thinking about, not seeing, and definitely not speaking. It’s been a long time of suppression that your brain has become hesitant to call for him that it comes out in a wavering voice. 

Let’s just leave that on the air for a second. His name. He’s here. In front of you. 

“What?” He presses when you hesitate to talk again. 

You sigh, shoulder slumping down in shame. “Do you have like… wet wipes or something?” 

Levi rolls his eyes and steps aside to give you some space for you to enter his home. 

“Just fucking come in.”

Knowing it’s probably the better option, you comply. It’s not like he’d murder you, right? At least, you think so. 

When you passed by him as you entered, you mumbled a quick word of gratitude. While he closed the door behind you, you took it upon yourself to remove your heels and put them on the shoe rack by the door without the need for him asking to. He still probably doesn’t appreciate outdoor shoes dirtying his floor. You still like it that way too. It’s just common etiquette, you both agreed to that before when it came up in a conversation. 

You notice he’s staring at your shoes on the rack in silence when you stand back up. Instantly, you ask if you made a mistake. “What is it? Are they not supposed to go there or something?” 

The question makes him look at you. He shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he muttered and bent down to pull open a drawer from the chest beside the shoe rack. 

He pulls out something from it, unwrapped it, and hands it to you. You look down, seeing new gray slide slippers. “Wear it.” 

With a nod, you let it land on the floor beneath you. Slipping your feet in, you find that the slippers are very comfortable. They surprisingly fit just right, well, maybe a little larger but it was fine. They don’t seem to be one of those disposable slippers you get at hotels. Is he more of a clean freak now than before that he gives his guests brand-new slippers to walk around when visiting him? 

His apartment is decent and obviously expensive. The grand living room greets you after the small hallway, illuminated by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that give you a great view of Paradis’ bustling urban jungle. Also, you don’t know what he needs three different couches for. Wait, is that a freaking massage chair? Holy shit, you need that for your stupid back. How many months of salary from ODM would that be? 

“You can put your things on the couch or the coffee table right there,” Levi instructs. You ignore the inkling to ask and tease which couch he’s talking about and gently put down your bag and the box of invitations on the coffee table next to the two couches adjacent to each other. 

You can’t help but be curious about his current career and that he’s living such a luxurious life. Granted, Levi had always been living well. But nothing quite like this. The man you knew from your past preferred to not live lavishly. 

The interior had a theme of white, black, and brown—mostly white for what you guess is a clean look. True to his character, there was no speck of dust anywhere. Everything is kept neat and clean. It almost seemed like no one was living here. 

When you look back at Levi, he’s at the end of a corridor beside what you assume is the dining area, pointing at the first door  

“The bathroom’s here. Just wash your filthy face or whatever.”

You roll your eyes, mumbling to yourself how the filth on your face was his doing before giving him a tight-lipped fake smile and entering the door he pointed to. 

When you shut the door behind you, you slam your back on the door. You close your eyes and sigh in relief. Fuck. Finally, you’re alone and can’t be seen by the onyx-haired man. What the hell is happening? You’re fucked. He’s obviously mad at you. 

It’s been seven years. He couldn’t possibly be that mad, right? Sure. You’re exes. It’s natural to not be on good terms. It’s only right that the two of you act like mature adults, right? 

Opening your eyes when you feel a little more calm, you face the mirror. Oh, you looked horrible . You looked like a baker who had too much fun with her flour. Some got to your hair too. Fuck. That’s it. You’re going to kill him.

You washed your face until you were satisfied, a bit upset that your light makeup had to be removed. Admittedly, you were more concerned with the fact that you’re going to face Levi barefaced than the wasted effort you’ve put in for the simple look, no matter how small. Partly because come on, you’re exes. It’s basically a rule (and a somewhat toxic one at that, you admit) to appear better than you’ve seen your ex last to make them see that you’re better off without them. It’s not that you want him to want you again or regret how things ended up between the two of you. You just don’t want to look like you’re not doing well, even to Hange and the others. But more so to him. The darkening bags under your eyes resulted from having not slept enough in months because of handling your new living arrangements and adjusting to your new job. You haven’t been eating much either, often forgetting meals when you’re too busy. The way you look isn’t really on your priority list. It hasn’t been for a long time. 

There was a mild skin cleanser on the sink that you hoped he wouldn’t mind you using. Well, he shouldn’t. It’s his fault that you have to wash your face. The surprise reunion with Levi alone was enough to make you insecure in multiple ways. It didn’t have to be worsened by you catching cleaning supplies in the face. 

Instead of looking for a spare towel, you used toilet paper to dab your face dry. The moment you felt refreshed enough and figure you’ve taken long enough before your host thinks you're locking yourself in his bathroom to avoid him, you come out and find him sitting on the couch with two cups of tea. One beside your things and the other in his hand in the unique way he does so, fingers holding the rim instead of the handle and using the space between his thumb and index finger to drink. 

He glances at you when he hears the door open but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stares back out his glass window. Unsure of what to do next, you decide to sit on the other couch in front of the other tea. 

Again, silence wraps around the two of you.

You rub your hands on your jeans, looking around the living room subtly. Not that you were particularly interested in his interior design, it’s just easier to avoid his face even if he’s just staring out the window quietly. It’s so obvious that he’s not even in deep thought. He’s waiting for you to speak first. He’s not gonna be the one to do it. He’s waiting to see how you’ll play this out. 

What the fuck do you talk to him about? The weather? His comfortable guest slippers? The impending doom of capitalism and technology? Honestly, anything but the past. 

You take a deep breath. Fine. Whatever. Here we go. 

“How have you—,” you were interrupted before you could even finish the question. 

“I doubt you actually care how I’m doing but I’m good.” He says as he puts down his teacup on the table. 

Stunned. Astonished. That’s what you are right now. All that and he still doesn’t spare you a glance. But you’re aware that he’s observing your every move. That’s okay. You can try again. Patience. Kindness. You can see this through by being a civil, respectful citizen. 

You cleared your throat.

“You look—,” he finishes the sentence for you this time, having guessed what you were about to say. 

“It looks like you’re about to tell me I look good, which is dumb. I don’t need you to tell me that.” 

You blink repeatedly. 

Wow. He is much more of an asshole now, isn’t he? 

You can practically feel your blood starting to boil. This is starting to be fucking ridiculous. When is Hange coming? Is she even coming? Maybe you should text her and ask her why you’re in front of Levi and not her. Or maybe just beg her to get to his apartment at full speed?

“You’re supposed to meet with Hange today, right?” 

He finally looks at you. You look at him. And then you nod, preferring to stay quiet. 

“Must be important if you went all the way here after seven years for Hange,” he gathered in a sarcastic tone. 

If he thinks that, then Hange or Moblit hasn’t told him that you’re back in Paradis even if you didn’t tell her not to. You wonder why that is. Maybe they haven’t had the time? Maybe he hasn’t had the time? Nonetheless, you don’t know how to correct him. But something is telling you that you should.  

You rub the back of your neck, head tilting, unsure of what to say but you agree. “Well… I guess?” 

The invitations are kind of important, aren’t they? They’re kind of late too. These have to be sent out after this weekend. 

“Tch,” he sassed at your unsure response. 

And then it was silent again. 

In the midst of it, you contemplate if and how you’re going to break the news that you’re in Paradis for work and not solely for meeting Hange. You doubt he even cared about your life update. 

Before you can decide in your thoughts, his deep voice breaks the silence. 

“So… you’re getting married.” He spread his knees apart to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees. 

Your shoulders tense up. A look of puzzlement crosses your face, unsure if you heard his words correctly. You lean an ear in his direction lightly and raise your voice. “I’m getting what ?” 

He raises a brow and gives you a look of contempt as if you’re lying to him. When you continue to give him a bewildered look, he taps the box you brought to the table with four fingers. You look down at the box confused, searching for any clue that leads to his conclusion that you were apparently tying the knot. 

Oh.

You ordered it so it was addressed to you. 

The box had your name and a description of ‘Wedding Invitations ’ on it. Did Levi think that you were getting married and went all the way here to invite Hange? Your lips part as you nod to yourself, understanding the situation that apparently transpired. 

When you look at Levi, he’s still waiting for an answer. You sigh and rub your temples, explaining calmly and slowly. “Levi, those are Hange’s wedding invitations.” 

His brows furrow. Now, it’s his turn to be confused. But you don’t wait for him to ask and explain further. “I handled her wedding invitations as a favor when she texted me that there was a problem with it. I’m just bringing them here to deliver it.” 

He takes in every word and pauses to think, the information you gave him is not just adding up in his head. He still appears puzzled. “But why you ?” 

You shrug and answer quickly while lifting the teacup in front of you to your face. “I knew a way to handle it so I offered.” 

You take a sip. It’s green tea. It’s good. You wonder what brand it is but you’re definitely not gonna ask him. 

He nods but with a tightness to it, as if he’s holding back from saying something. Another follow question comes out from his lips, “And she knows this, how?” 

You understand where he's getting at. He’s easing you into telling him how the hell you’re in contact with his friend after so long. He’s probably curious as to how and when this friendship started and if Hange has been keeping this from him for a while. 

“We’ve been texting,” you admit while setting down the cup, seeing no point in denying the truth and acting like you’re going behind his back. 

His brows raised for a second, amused. Then, his face returns to his usual stoic ones, but this time with a darkened gaze. You guess that he probably feels somewhat betrayed that his friend kept this little information from him, not that she was entitled to tell him about who she reconnected with. Hange was your friend too so you don’t see what’s so wrong about that. 

You stared at his face pointedly and replied with a sharpened tone. “Don’t make that face. It’s barely been a week,” you add, not even waiting for him to ask ‘Since when? ’ because it’s written all over his face. 

He stays quiet and avoids your eyes, fixing his gaze to nothing particular by his side. You take this chance to add more to it. “We ran into each other while shopping and exchanged numbers. Is that all you want to know?” 

His jaw clenched. You could see his side profile so clearly with how he looked to the side. Your words make him realize something. “…you’re back in town?” 

You huff, infuriated that the thought of you being back in Paradis was appalling to him. “For almost a month now. For a job. It’s not permanent yet so don’t go cursing me around already.” 

“And here I thought you promised you’d stay far away from me,” he recalled tightly with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah. You’re all about keeping promises, aren’t you?” 

You look down at your black top that still holds a bit of evidence from his childish skit by the door. Your fingers pinch the loose fabric by your chest to see the neckline and collar better.

“I am,” he agrees sternly, meeting your eyes. 

You scoff, bringing your hands back down on your lap. He sits up and leans back on the couch, chin raised and legs crossed. He was taunting you. He wants to see you riled up. It’s not going to happen. Does he think that you can’t handle him? 

The only way you can win his game is to act like the calm and mature grown-up you are. In short, unbothered. It’s not like you did anything wrong except for cutting communication with everyone after graduation. It was what you thought to be the right thing to do. Of course, you feel bad that you hurt them. But if you had to go back in time, you’d do it again. 

With fists balling tight on your lap, you taunt back through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. “I didn’t expect you to be like this. How are you still holding a grudge after seven years?” 

“How are you still so shamelessly indifferent after seven years?” 

He spat every venomous word out and meant it, showing from the way his eyes aggressively sent daggers to your face. The words left a deep frown on his mouth, glaring at you relentlessly. 

The pent-up, irritated expression on your face falls down in an instant. Like an attack, those two words are trying to break their way into your carefully curated walls, making you harden up. 

Shamelessly indifferent. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?  

With an impassive face, your soulless eyes bore into his icy ones. You set your lips into a straight line, giving away no expression he could read into. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?  

His cold glare challenges your devoid expression. Like two hard walls parallel to each other, no one is seeing the other as they truly are unless one breaks down. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?  

Neither of you will willingly let that happen. You won’t surrender your armor just yet when it has helped you last this long. You know your decisions would lead to this. To his hatred. You were fine with it. You were fine with being the protagonist of both your stories. There are much bigger things than that in this life that you were willing to trade anything for. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?

If that’s the case… Why do you feel so freshly wounded? 

A door bursts open, startling the two of you. A loud boisterous voice pierces your ears, shouting your name. Your head whips in the direction of the way leading to the front door. You hear it close gently, then there were some thuds and sounds of shoes. From your peripheral, you see Levi slap a palm on his face with a groan. 

The footsteps come running in, revealing an excited but disheveled-looking Hange. As she spots you sitting on the couch, she lets out a piercing shriek and jumps up with wavering hands. Her energy is so intensely soaring that an affectionate smile spreads on your face instantly as a response and has greeted her with it. 

She runs to you across the floor in her socks and then tackles you into an enormous warm hug. You hear Levi sigh from his seat while he stares at the situation. You’re being squished again, Hange pressed to your side and hanging onto you like a koala. 

“Now, Hange. Please don’t hog her all to yourself.” 

Your ears perked up at the sound of the deep voice and whip your head in that direction. As you suspected, there’s a grinning tall, blonde, and handsome man standing not far from you. He’s in actual indoor slippers too unlike Hange who just threw off her shoes. 

Erwin was always the most, if not the only, mature among the four of you. He just had this aura that overpowers everyone when he walks into a room. Smart, confident, and a born leader. You always looked up to him when you were young. 

“Erwin,” you gaped as he strides towards you. 

Now standing beside you and Hange (who was still refusing to let you go), he reaches in and pats your head gently. “Hey, Greenie,” he greets you warmly, which you exchange with a genuine smile of delight. 

Erwin then proceeds to gently sit in the space beside you. All while smirking at his friend who sat alone on the couch across from the three of you. ”Levi, you look awfully upset,” he teased. 

“Hange, explain. Now.” Levi ignores his blonde friend’s attempt to mock him, focusing deadly on the brunette woman clinging to you. You feel Hange lightly shudder at his words. When you tap her arm, you look at her with pleading eyes, indicating you agree with Levi in wanting an explanation for this predicament you don’t doubt she planned. 

Pouting, Hange reluctantly releases you from her hold. She stares back at Levi who’s waiting but clearly without much patience. She looks at you who raised your brows, urging her to speak up. She huffs while facing forward again, arms crossed but her mouth quivering in excitement. 

“Pft,” she holds back a laugh.

“Hange,” Levi warns in spite. 

And then she bursts. 

“Okay, fine! I sent her your address instead of mine intentionally.” She throws her hands in the air enthusiastically, amusingly proud of herself. Then she turns to you sheepishly. “In my defense, I didn’t explicitly say it’s my address in the texts.” 

Your mouth drops. “What? Yes, you did.”

Hange shakes her head, thoroughly convinced. “No. You said ‘Hange, what’s your address? I’ll have a courier send the invitations to you.’ And then I said ‘No. Just come to this address after work on Saturday and personally give it to me.’ So technically, no, I didn’t. You just assumed it.” 

You stare at her, dumbfounded. Beside you, Erwin chuckles and Levi grumbles at her explanation. “Great. Here comes the Harvard graduate.”

After taking a deep breath, you calmly ask. “Okay… but why here?” A valid question, you feel. Why would Hange purposely send you to Levi’s home? Her friend’s ex-girlfriend? With both of you unaware?

Hange grins from ear to ear, wriggling like a worm on her seat. She can’t help herself but stand up to explain in exaggeration, walking back and forth with hand gestures. 

“Well my dearest friends, you see, when I saw Greenie for the first time after seven years, coincidentally before my wedding and the same day one of my planned bridesmaids called to tell me they can’t attend the wedding. I knew that it had to be fate. This was the gods aligning the universe for me and my wedding. Unfortunately, she rejected my invitation.” 

“Of course, she would, dipshit. Why would you practically invite a stranger to your wedding?” Levi sneers at you. You roll your eyes. Hange ignores the remark from Levi that was meant to insult you and claps her hand loudly to distract you from getting down into a glaring contest. 

“As I was saying, she refused my invitation. I was okay with that at first then my big brain was like… ‘It’s probably because of Levi!’ So I thought that we could all have a lovely day together to get over the dramatic reunion and see if we could all be civil before the wedding, you know?” Hange ends with hands on her waist. 

“That makes zero sense,” you whisper to yourself while shaking your head. 

“All of this is to get her to attend your shitty wedding?” Levi complains.

Hange nods enthusiastically, eyes flitting back and forth from Levi and then to you. “So? What’s our status? Do you guys still hate each other? Wanna kill each other?”

“I definitely want to kill someone. But it’s not her,” Levi’s face hardened, shooting daggers at Hange who didn't even bat an eye. 

“Walk it off, Levi. You didn’t answer my question,” Hange brushes his words of murderous attempt at her life. 

“I don’t know, Hange. He literally sprayed some window-cleaning solution on my face and threw baking soda on me earlier. Who knows? Maybe he’ll dunk my face on your wedding cake next,” you chime in. 

Erwin snorts. Hange gasps. Levi tilts his head back with closed eyes, sighing. Their immediate reaction to your words left a bewildered look on your face. 

“He actually did it?!” Hange dramatically slaps a hand over her mouth, gaping at Levi in disbelief. “No fucking way!”

“Wow, Levi. I guess all those practices were worth it, weren’t they?” Even Erwin taunts with an amused grin. Now that catches your attention. He had been practicing throwing you his cleaning supplies?  Why would he… unless…? 

You turned to the blonde man, perplexed. “He practiced it?” 

“No,” Levi is quick to deny, now sitting up straight. 

“Yes,” Hange and Erwin answer you at the same time.

Levi doesn’t speak without a sound of distaste leaving his mouth and sending daggers to his two friends. “Don’t flatter yourself. They ask me to do it.”

“Oh, yes we do. Especially when he’s had too much to drink.” Hange says as she finally sits back down beside you.

“Moblit purposefully gets him to a drinking contest just so he can do it,” Erwin says. 

“It ends with both of them getting awfully wasted. It’s really funny that the trouble of getting them home is almost worth it,” Hange whispers to you. 

“One time, at a party, he started throwing baking soda everywhere like he’s blessing the house with some sort of ritual,” Erwin reminisced and shook his head. 

Levi, obviously having enough of his friends’ betrayal and teasing, rolls his eyes and gets up from his seat to leave. “That’s it. I’m not hearing any of this shit.” He turns his back and starts to stride off to his spacious kitchen with his teacup in his hand while Hange snickers beside you, sharing looks of amusement with Erwin. 

You’re unaware of how to act. Should you act friendly to Hange and Erwin? Should you leave? You’re not sure of what’s really happening here. Maybe it’d be better if you just leave and apologetically reject Hange’s invite for the last time. Although you’re glad that the two had received you warmly despite how long it’s been and Levi, as annoying as he is, even offered you to freshen up in his home. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?  

Maybe it’s better if you still keep your distance from them. You’re not implying you’ll ignore or jump to the next city again. It would be good for both you and Levi to not share the same friend group again. You should know your place. 

You place a hand on top of Hange’s that was on her lap, letting out a soft sigh before you speak. An apology is due to your old friends. It’s okay. You can do it. Just don’t cry. 

“Hange, I really appreciate the invite. Truly. But it’s more than the reason you think. It’s just been so long and I probably don’t know anyone there anymore, you know?” You started explaining with a smile and then moved your head to Erwin and continued.

“And I know that it wasn’t nice, disappearing all those years ago. I’m sorry if that upset you.” You squeeze Hange’s hand while looking at Erwin who now has abandoned his playful attitude just seconds ago. He was listening to you intently. It wasn’t like him to bare his emotions out in the open but unlike Levi’s form of being guarded. Erwin has just always just been like that, keeping his emotions controlled and regulated. And yet, you see a tinge of sadness in his eyes. You know you do owe them some kind of closure. And once you’ve given them that, you’ll be on your way and live your life in Paradis quietly just as you’ve been doing for the past seven years. This time, just a little bit closer to them. 

“But the three of you have still been so kind to me now despite that and how long it’s been. So thank you.” You made sure to include Levi knowing he’s listening somewhere in his kitchen. You turn your head to Hange who stayed quiet with her chin down, your hand still in each other’s. Her hand is rough, no doubt from her adventurous personality. Despite that, you appreciate the warmth of her hand. It reminded you of how that same warmth comforted you in the past when you needed it. 

“I do agree with Levi, though. It might be a bit weird if I attend your wedding out of nowhere. I’m glad that you want me back in your life. But attending and playing such an important role in your wedding might be too soon for me not to feel bad about it. Don’t worry about me, Hange. I want you to enjoy your day with Moblit,” you whisper the last two sentences to Hange who still hung her head down. 

“Ah…” Hange’s deep voice grovels, a tone she only uses when she’s serious. “I really thought that it would work.” 

You chuckle, placing your other hand on your intertwined ones. “If Levi was able to do what he apparently always wanted to do with me, then I’d say it went well. For him, at least.”

Hange finally lifts her face, looking defeated. It instantly makes you feel guilty having done that. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me. For Levi. But hey, we can still hang out. Erwin, you wanna have my number? Hange has it.”

Erwin nods, smiling genuinely. “I will take you up on that. I might need a lawyer. Who’s better than an attorney from ODM?” 

“Wait, you know where I work?” 

Erwin scoffs. “It’s me, Greenie. What do you think?” 

You let it go with a short laugh. It’s either Hange told him or his smartass somehow knows. Sometimes, you think Erwin should’ve pursued being a detective. Or the President, though that would be quite dangerous, you feel. 

“Oi.” 

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of Levi’s voice who stood on the threshold of the way to the kitchen. While his side leaning on the wall, he had his arms crossed, staring right into your eyes with the same exasperated expression painted on his face. Once he caught everyone’s attention, he spoke.

“Don’t be dramatic and just go to the wedding.” 

“But—“

“It’s just a wedding. You said it yourself. Nobody knows you. It should be easy to go and leave.” 

You pause, tilting your chin down to think for yourself. You do want to go but there’s something holding you back. Shame, maybe. 

“Unless you’re really uncomfortable with me, which should hardly be the case. Because for me, I really don’t care if you’re there or not. It’s your choice.” 

You look at Hange, whose eyes are now beginning to fill with hope but she silently awaits your answer. You look at Levi again, trying to decipher his words and actions. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with me being there?” You ask him. 

Levi sighs like he’s tired of the question. “I couldn’t care less, Greenie .” And then he turns around again, disappearing back to the kitchen. 

Hange doesn’t ask for an answer right away. Easy enough, one question from Erwin about how Hange's day got the atmosphere to shift into a lighter one, shifting from one conversation to another. When Hange was in the middle of babbling about her wedding preparations, Levi came out of the kitchen with a tray of snacks and drinks. 

They’re just fruit sandwiches and another batch of tea. Your mouth instantly waters, remembering the fact that all you had for lunch today was the pack of pocky sticks you had in your bag and a mango juice you bought in the office cafeteria. Both of which you ate in the car on the way home. Sue your laziness. 

“Thank you so much, househusband Levi!” Hange takes one of the sandwiches in an instance, munching on the soft bread filled with whipped cream and sliced strawberries. 

“Whatever. Don’t make a fucking mess.” He sits down and turns on the television for what you guess is background noise. He throws the remote to Erwin who swiftly catches it without a warning. 

While Erwin switches through different apps and channels with Levi’s eyes on the television, you take the opportunity to get a sandwich for yourself, carefully holding it between your fingers. While your other hand is under your mouth to avoid being messy, you take a bite and immediately fight to hold back to moan. How is this strawberry so good and sweet? 

You practically inhaled the sandwich right after. Though you don’t look at him, you swear that you saw a corner of Levi’s mouth twitch upwards. You’re not sure if that was because of you or the survival reality tv show that Erwin had settled on playing but decided to believe it’s the latter, not wanting to overthink whatever was that. 

The next few hours were tolerable enough. The topics, as thankful as you are, are never about you for long, it’s mostly Hange talking your ears off about her work. You told them what you just told Hange about your life. Those being where you work and what you do. You also told them you’d been in Trost for a while before being transferred here. Though nearing the end of your gathering, one conversation led to something you were trying to avoid, you know that it was just a matter of time before they had to know. 

Erwin, after offering to drive you home, asked you where you were staying, and when you told them where you didn’t miss their looks of disfavor. 

“That crappy apartment by The Underground?” Hange was the first to say something out of concern. 

You nod. You understand their disapproval, the place isn’t exactly the safest in the city. It isn’t like you couldn’t afford something better, you just didn’t want to commit to something permanent only to leave again. “Don’t give me that look, Hanj. It’s not that bad.” 

“Still, it’s not very safe for you and Marjorie.” Hange insists. You gave her a smile, and though you try not to make it seem sad, the thought of your grandmother still brings upon a tight pang in your chest no matter how long it’s been. 

“Marj… she’s not with me… anymore,” you tell them, looking down at the teacup in your hand and explaining in one word. “Leukemia.”

Everyone in the room immediately froze for a few seconds as they looked at you in shock which you hated. Hange’s hands flew to her mouth, stuttering an immediate apology. From your right, Erwin pats your shoulders in consolation. Levi is just staring at you, ever so unreadable. 

“It’s fine, uh… it’s been a while since she passed. Don’t worry about it,” you chuckle, a hard attempt to convince them. You weren’t lying, though. It’s really been a while for you to have a breakdown at the thought of it. “And The Underground is not that bad anymore. I’ll be safe.”

If this was seven years ago, you wouldn’t have even considered living in The Underground alone. It’s this neighborhood in Paradis that was infamous for sheltering delinquents, criminals, and runaways. It’s always been a part of the city that never agreed with the ideals of the local government because of its informal settlers who refused to leave. That is why it's often set on fire. Literally. There’s never any proof but it was common knowledge that it's done to make them leave. That is also why the lodging and apartments close to it are the cheapest in the city.

The landlord had done well in selling the one-bedroom apartment to you, not uttering a word about The Underground and only of how big of a catch it was because it’s the cheapest in the city and someone had just recently moved out of it. You knew better before entertaining a visit though, well aware of the consequences and why there were triple locks on the front door. In defense of your decision, the inside of the place wasn’t actually crap, the interior of the apartment is modern and surprisingly clean. There were secure locks on the windows too. It’s really just the outside of the building that is due for a repaint, littered with both vulgar and creative vandalism. You realized that the reason why it has such a run-down appearance was also to keep it safe. There’s hardly anyone that would want to rob what basically looks like it’s falling apart. 

To add to that, when you drove past The Underground, it was surprisingly not as chaotic and loud as it was before. You thought that maybe some new mayor actually had a functioning brain and realized that setting fire to the poor population doesn’t really fix anything. So what the hell, you took a bite of the risk and accepted the 6 months lease. 

“It is,” Erwin surprisingly agreed with you. “But nevertheless, you are a vulnerable woman living alone. I can help you look for some other cheaper apartment away from it if you want.” 

“Thank you, Win,” you genuinely say to him. “But I’ll be fine. It’s just for 6—actually, just 5 months left now. If I get permanent employment at ODM, it will come with an apartment as a benefit, actually.” 

“If you say so,” Erwin reluctantly agrees. “But the second you feel unsafe, text me. I would take care of things immediately.” 

“I don’t doubt you will,” you granted, thankful. You don’t feel particularly fearful of where you’re staying. You definitely lived in worse places without much choice. Physically wise, you can take care of yourself… you think. 

With a deep inhale, you hook your bag in your arm and get up from the couch. “Well, it’s getting a bit late. I should go.” 

“No! Don’t go yet,” Hange whined, pouting. 

“Are you sure we can’t convince you to stay for dinner?” Erwin stands up as well, ever the gentleman. You really don’t want to intrude or overstay. Besides, the owner of the house didn’t even invite you to stay. It’s easy for you to read the room. 

Shaking your head, you look up as you reply to the tall blonde man. “Nah. I gotta go take care of some things tonight, sorry. Next time?” you ask, particularly to everyone despite only conversing with Erwin. 

“Absolutely,” Erwin responds. You give him a smile. “Alright. Text me.” 

“Hange, I’ll text you my decision about the wedding very soon, okay? Thanks for today.” You say as you give Hange a hug to which she reciprocates lovingly.

“Ugh. I miss you already.” She sighs then leans into your ear. “Sorry about setting you up today,” she apologizes with a snicker. You pat her back in response. When she lets you go, she still has that big grin on her face.

You turn to Levi, giving him a nod out of courtesy. “Levi.”

He nods in return, gaze still heavy on you. He says your name back as a form of goodbye, still seated on the couch cross-legged as you stand in front of him, the low coffee table in between the two of you. 

“Thanks for the… tea and snack.” Though sincere, you didn’t mean for it to come out the opposite. 

“I’m sure you were,” Levi’s piercing eyes could cut through like a knife. You size him up in a similar regard. He was the attacker and you were the defender in this staring contest and you were the most competitive pair this game has seen, no one eager to back down. 

“Levi, why don’t you escort your guest to her car?” 

It was Erwin’s question that sliced through the tension, cutting their game short. 

Levi scoffs. “Do it yourself.”

”There’s no need for that, Win,” you say almost at the same time.

“Nonsense,” he addresses you and then the man on the couch. “Levi, don’t be a rude host.” Erwin glares at Levi. You almost smile at the interaction. Levi and Erwin had always been an odd pair. The blonde always had a way with the raven-haired boy, always pushing him to a certain extent but it was always for the better. It seems like that dynamic hasn’t changed at all. 

“Really, Erwin. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll text you when I get home,” you say lightheartedly as you’re already walking to the door to wear your shoes. 

Erwin and Hange followed you, watching as you slipped off the house slippers and wore your heels. You bid the pair one last goodbye before stepping out of the lavish apartment.

Sighing, you begrudgingly walk away from his door as you feel the tension leave you when you were no longer in the same room as them. It was a relief but god was that exhausting. 

You missed them though. It felt so… weird. They matured but never changed their personalities. It’s like if seven years ago, someone told you to picture how the trio would be, you would’ve pictured them as they are now. It’s funny, you think, how circumstances and situations can change everything about a person, how one heavy decision leads to a myriad of decisions too, how everything interconnects and falls apart. It’s all so funny. 

As you wait for the elevator to rise to Levi’s floor, you hear his door creak open, revealing Levi with a petulant face. You raised a brow but don’t utter a word. Erwin must have made him do it somehow. 

He silently waits beside you, letting him do whatever he has to in silence. The elevator dings open and you step inside immediately. You pressed the lobby level as Levi steps in. 

It was quiet, only the subtle elevator music fills what was supposed to be an empty silence. Levi doesn’t even look at you, just glaring hard at the closing doors of the elevator with crossed arms. You look at him, shoulders tensed but face unbothered. He obviously did not want to be here with the way his face is scrunched up and his foot was tapping aggressively. It’s not like you wanted him to be here either. You just want to get out of here as soon as possible and away from him. 

And of course, just like the heavens heard you, the elevator abruptly halts to a stop with a hard rattle, the lights flickering for two seconds before being stable again. You gasped a little in shock but you stay on your feet and maintained your balance, your hand gripping your bag for emotional support. 

Levi, however, immediately holds your arm in response. 

You look at him and his hand on you. His eyes were wide in worry and his hold was almost in a form of a tug before he stopped, your arm now raised mid-air. He didn’t look frightened, just cautious and agile. It was almost like it triggered his protective instinct. 

When he realized, he immediately lets go as if you were scalding. 

Sighing, you walk to the buttons and pressed the emergency button. When the light came on, you spoke into the microphone. “We’re stuck in the elevator with a direct line to the penthouse. Please send assistance.” 

Immediately, someone from maintenance or security replies back with an assurance that they’re on it. They proceeded to ask how many are there with you and if everyone is alright. The typical questions at emergencies like this. 

“We’re both fine. Your penthouse resident is pissed as hell, though.” 

“We apologize, ma’am and sir Levi. We will have this elevator going in no time. Don’t worry.” 

The emergency button’s light fades and you sigh, going back to the middle where you stood earlier.

“You don’t seem to be very startled,” Levi spoke up.

You look at him for a second, surprised he’s starting a conversation with you. You don’t have a problem with tight spaces and you’re confident that you won’t die even if you’re basically stuck in a tin can right now. This is a well-sought apartment complex and this is probably an expensive tin can. It won’t come crashing down soon. “Is there a reason I should be?” 

He clears his throat and then doesn’t say anything back. He’s back on ignoring you and cursing every corner of the room with his venomous glare. He’s back on his anxious foot tapping again, the sound of his shoes tapping is as annoying as the droplets of water hitting the sink. It’s annoying you more than the godawful elevator music. 

“God, can you stop that?” You spat, brows furrowed. 

“No,” he denied in an instant. 

You roll your eyes. “Piece of shit.” 

“Says you,” he mumbled, his foot tapping growing incessantly faster. You know he’s just trying to rile you up more.

“It blows my mind how you’re still this grumpy and insufferable. I assumed age would compensate for the lack of social skills.” You glare at him. “And what was that? You practiced throwing those cleaning supplies? That’s all you could think of to do or say to me after seven years?” 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?”

“That’s all you could say? Sorry? After what you’ve done?”

“What have I done, Levi? What have I done that was so wrong?” 

“God, you’re so conceited.” He rolls his eyes. “You can’t even make up an excuse for leaving. That’s why you ran like a coward. Now you’re back and all you had to say was ‘sorry’? And not even to me?” 

“Why? What else did you expect from me when I appeared at your door, Levi?” You spat with a venomous taunt. 

He was left speechless, you assume not knowing what to say or maybe holding back on something. You decided to continue, eyes fixed on the metal doors in front of you. 

“I thought about it—what I was going to say to you after all those years. But I know that I wouldn’t have been as bitter as you. It’s been seven years. We broke up before I even left. As a former friend, I was in the wrong for ghosting everyone. As an ex-girlfriend, I have no obligations to you.”

The elevator dinged and suddenly, the whirling sound of the machine was back, and only after a few seconds of silence did the doors open and you immediately stepped out, breathing in the air from the lobby. You were expecting Levi to follow you out but when you turned your head to look back at him, he was still inside the elevator, looking at you with a stare so cold that it will give anyone near frostbite. The corners of his mouth are pointing downwards into a frown directed at you and his arms are laying limply by his sides. 

Confused and heavily startled by his expression, you could only watch as the elevator doors closed with him still inside, eyes never leaving yours, and with a look on his face that mirrors the same one when you left him seven years ago. 

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

---

House of Cards

pairing: chishiya shuntarou x fem!reader genre: angst (i love angst i'm sawry), unrequited love (but is it really), pining wc: 6.1k warnings: niragi, spontaneously written at 2am and under the influence, chishiya is emotionally constipated, is chishiya ooc here idk summary: in which you've known chishiya before borderlands and he isn't so fond of seeing you at the beach ao3 link

The first person you saw after the first game at the Beach was Usagi. You ran to her as soon as you saw her by the pool.

“Have you seen Arisu?” She asks you as soon as you let go. You shake your head in worry, your head immediately looking around and searching the crowd for the familiar shaggy mop of hair. 

“There!” She exclaims and you both push through the crowd to get to him. He sees both of you approaching and screams your names in delight.  

“Arisu!” You grin as you approach him. You immediately wrap your arms around him. He pats your back.

“You’re both alive.” He lets out a sigh of relief. You nod and let him go.

He and Usagi stare at each other with shy smiles, making you roll your eyes. You stood in between them awkwardly.

“Please just hug it out. I’m practically begging at this point. I wish the game just killed me if I knew I will have to see this shit.” You cross your arms and walk away from both of them while both of them follow you, no doubt still shyly smiling at each other while talking.

You sat on one of the pool chairs and Usagi sat on the edge of your seat. Arisu sat on the other chair beside yours. 

“Ann was trying to test me,” Arisu says as he sat down on the edge of the beach chair, talking about the game he was in.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Usagi replies while you nod in agreement. 

A girl in a blue patterned two-piece swimsuit enters your space and sits beside Arisu. She was tall, pale, and pretty and with some kind of stick in her mouth. The three of you follow her with your gazes.

“Your girlfriend?” She asks and nods at Usagi. She was talking to Arisu.

“What?” Arisu reacts, clearly caught off-guard.

You roll your eyes again but watch the exchange with a grin.

“You’re wrong,” Usagi denies. 

“You clearly like each other. Why not date?” Kuina shrugs and then continues. “You’re never gonna know when you’re going to die.” 

Whatever Arisu, Usagi, and the new girl were talking about, you tune it all out with your thoughts.

It was harsh but true. People always say, if the world was ending, they’d live to the fullest. In Borderlands, every day is your last day. You think back to Chishiya. If he was here, how would he treat you? Pain struck your chest at the thought. 

Will he ever look at you the way Arisu looks at Usagi? All this time, you’ve been hanging on to your life hoping you’ll return to him. But is it worth it? Will he even like it when you come back? 

“What about you?” 

The girl looks at you with expectant eyes.

“What was that? Sorry, I zoned out.” 

“You got someone to go back to the original world? I’m Kuina, by the way.” She gives you a sweet smile.

You nod, thinking of the nonchalant platinum blonde. “Yeah. I think so.” 

She was about to ask more when a loud voice halts the entire celebration.

“Hey, stop playing that tacky music!”

Armed men enter the area. You recognize some of them as the men who tied you up when the three of you were caught spying on The Beach. Everyone stops partying upon their arrival, you even see some holding their breath. 

“It’s the militants,” Kuina explains to the three of us. “If you want to live a peaceful life at the Beach, avoid getting involved with them.” 

She begins to explain who the militants are and what they do. The muscular man named Aguni is their leader. They’re who are in power on the Beach along with Hatter and his devotees. A conflict could happen between the two groups at any time. You don’t doubt it. Such two different powers will clash inevitably.

Aguni and his militants stop by the four of you. He was looking at Arisu who avoided his gaze.

“What happened to your friend?” The question was for Arisu again. You raise a brow. You’re beginning to notice a lot of people knowing Arisu. He must’ve been in a game with the man back when he was with his friends.

Arisu stayed silent, a glimpse of his defeated self, lying on the ground passing by you. 

“I see. He died.” Aguni states the obvious. “What a shame only the small fish survived.” 

You frown at the clear insult to your friend.

“Do you know each other?” Kuina whispered to Arisu.

Aguni then flits his dark gaze to Usagi and then to you. You suddenly felt naked in your black two-piece swimsuit. But it’s not like you to cower. So you look back at him with the same dark but angry gaze. 

“You,” he points at the arrogant-looking man with the gun over his shoulder. “Bring those women over.” 

The man quickly moves to his feet, about to grab Usagi first. Arisu stands up in a heartbeat, shouting his protest.

“Stop it. Don’t get involved!” Kuina holds his arm as he stands up. 

Usagi stays planted in her seat and you stand up, fists in anger and on your sides. 

“Our boss said he wants a taste of both of you.” He says with an ugly smirk on his face. With you being closer, you could see the multiple piercings on his face. You feel nothing but disgust for this man.

The man grabs Usagi’s arm again and both Arisu and you stop him. 

“Stop it,” Arisu repeats, standing in front of you and Usagi.

“What? Had to have two chicks to yourself? Don’t you know sharing is caring?” He asks Arisu and then asks Aguni. “What should we do about this guy?” 

“Break his legs so that he’ll die in the next game.” 

Your eyes widen at the words of the militants’ leader. You quickly felt fear for your friends. God, is this really gonna happen to the three of you? 

The pierced man orders the militants to bring the both of you to Aguni while he grabs Arisu.

The tattooed man with a sword approaches you and grabs you by the arm. 

“Fucking let me go.” You struggle against his hold, tugging your arm from his digging grasp. 

Arisu escapes the pierced man’s hold and is about to head back to the both of you when the militants block his way. He can’t do anything. You can’t do anything. You were outnumbered and no one will save you. 

You stare down the bald tattooed man, not letting him see your fear. 

You look around, desperate for an opening or an idea to save the three of you. The people only look at the situation closely. 

There was only one name in your mind. Chishiya. You have to get out of here for Chishiya. You have to make it out alive somehow. 

“Is this a fight?”

The crowd made a way and came in the Beach’s number one, Hatter. 

“Back off Hatter, this doesn’t concern you,” Aguni spoke up. 

“I can’t do that. As Number One, I’m obliged to maintain order at the Beach.” He says dramatically, looking afar. Then he looks at the militants once again. “Can you let off the newcomers in my account, Aguni?” 

All of the residents of the Beach watch as the tension between the two leaders rises. It was Hatter who first breaks the stare down and looks at the pierced man.

“Niragi?” He directs the question to him. So his name is Niragi, you thought. It’s best to avoid him. He reeks of danger and you are seldom wrong about your intuition. 

Niragi looks away. “I only take orders from my boss.”

Hatter clearly takes offense at the man’s answer and looks at Aguni again with dark eyes. “Then let me ask your boss.”

He stares down at Aguni again, faces inches away from each other. “Who’s your boss, Aguni?”

Aguni doesn’t look at Hatter, staring ahead in anger. Then he turns to face Hatter. Everyone waits for the tough-looking man’s answer.

“It’s you, right?” 

Hatter seemed pleased with his answer and whispered something to him. Aguni then makes his way out of the scene. You successfully tug your arm out of the militant’s grasp, glaring at him and moving away. 

“All executive members are to gather in the meeting room!” Hatter announces to everyone. 

The militants rush out of the scene and Hatter watches as they walk away.

“Arisu, you’re coming too.” He orders without looking at him, still eyeing the gunned men who have their backs turned to him. “I heard your potential from Ann. Follow me.”

Arisu looks at Usagi and then at you. You nod at him, assuring silently that the two of you will be okay. 

“I’ll be back,” Arisu promises to Usagi who was still sitting down. 

Your male friend follows Hatter and Usagi trails behind him in worry but stops after a few steps. You follow her and place a hand on her shoulder, staring at the back of your friend who was to be in a meeting with the executives. 

“Usagi. He’ll be fine.” You tell her in comfort, mostly telling it to yourself too. 

You turn back at Kuina, about to ask her if she knows where they’re going. 

But what you saw froze you in your place, dropping your hand from Usagi’s shoulder. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. That white jacket. That platinum blonde. Those cat-like eyes. Your eyes must be deceiving you. It can’t be. 

“Shuntarou.” You sang as you entered the Doctors’ lounge room. 

He was alone and it was so quiet you can hear a pin drop so you don’t miss how he audibly sighs. You giggle, well aware of the fact that you annoy the shit out of him. You sit across from him. He was reading some patient information with three books stacked on the coffee table in front of him. 

As usual, he doesn’t even express his negative welcome with words. 

“I bought you something,” you wave the paper bag in front of his face in excitement. 

It didn’t surprise him. You always do this. Whenever you were out shopping, you had to buy him one thing. It was an unspoken rule you set for yourself. And it could be anything—no price range, no rules. One time, you bought him a plant. It died in three weeks. So, you set another rule for yourself, only inanimate objects as gifts.

You set the paper bag down and take out the box inside it. You know he won’t bother opening it in front of you so you open it yourself. 

As you take off the lid, you excitedly say, “Tada!” 

His eyes flit to the content of the box for a second and then to you before going back to his patient’s papers. He never says thank you for any of your gifts but you don’t really mind. He didn’t ask for them anyway. But you know when he likes the gifts. It’s how you know more about him. He’ll never tell you what he likes or dislikes so it was up to you to figure it out. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Can you wear this when we go on our date?” You press him as you take out the white jacket from the box. 

It wasn’t a date. But he doesn’t deny it so that was enough for you. 

Before he answers (but you doubt he would), the door of the lounge opens and walks in Nakamura Hina. She was your senior in med school and a great doctor. She’s also one of Chishiya’s co-workers. 

She’s nice and she never showed you anything bad but you sense that she doesn’t like you. You didn’t mind. There was a pretty long line and you don’t plan on opening the doors to any of them. 

“Y/N, you’re here,” she states the obvious and gives you a tight strained smile. Her eyes flit over to Chishiya. 

“Chishiya, Mr. Yamamoto wants you in his office to talk about the patient.” 

Without saying a word, he was already on his feet, not even sparing you a glance and following Nakamura out the door. You stand up too.

“I’ll head out too! Remember what I said, okay?” 

He doesn’t even acknowledge you and kept on walking. Hina was looking at you with pity in her eyes. You’ve grown accustomed to it. That was your reputation anyway–the rich girl always hanging around Chishiya Shuntarou. 

When they were out of the door, you slump back down your seat and groan. 

Before leaving, you fixed your gift back in the paper bag and set it down next to his things. 

You hope he’ll wear it, at least. 

It’s Chishiya. Your Chishiya was beside Kuina. 

He was staring ahead of you so you purposefully blocked his sight, forcing yourself to be in his sight. It was so you to force your way into his life.

If he looks at you, then it’s real. He’s real.

His gaze drops on your face but as soon as his eyes meet yours, Usagi speaks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” 

This made you look at her. “It’s—,” you look back at him but find yourself gazing at a crowd with no Chishiya or Kuina in sight.

He’s here in Borderlands. 

Scared to be alone in such a dangerous place, Usagi and you slept in her room. You lie on your backs and side by side on her bed. Inches away from each other, you could practically feel Usagi’s anxiety reeking off and unto you. 

“Do you think Arisu’s fine right now?” Usagi finally thinks out loud.

You sigh. “He can handle himself.” You pause and think about the man you considered your friend. “He’s smart, isn’t he?” 

You feel her genuinely smile beside you. “It’s definitely one of his strengths.” 

“So you like smart guys too?” You tease her. “I get it,” you add, thinking about a certain genius doctor you know. 

“Too? What does that mean? Your type is smart guys?” She gets excited and faces you on her side, leaning her chin on her palm and putting her upper weight on her elbow.

You purse your lips. “I’m not telling you.”

She shakes you and whines. “Come on. Tell me.”

You grin and lean on your elbow too, now facing each other like two teenage girls in a sleepover. Doing this felt like ages ago. You used to gush over Chishiya to your girlfriends who clearly felt annoyed and tired of it. But right now, Usagi was waiting and is so excited for you to tell her all about the guy you liked. It reminded you of how life used to be so simple. Now, romance was a luxury no one can afford in Borderlands. 

“He’s a doctor.” You start. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our parents were coworkers and friends.” 

“I was in med school too. We were both there together. It’s kind of an unspoken thing that we’re arranged to be married. I hated studying medicine. So I didn’t really pursue it after college.” You pause, thinking about much easier times. “Chishiya, though, he’s good at everything. He’s smart and he’s so cool. He isn’t like anyone I've ever met.”

“So it’s him? The person you’re going back to after Borderlands?” Usagi asks, sweetly and in awe.

You gave her a sad smile. “That was the plan.” 

Her brow furrowed and formed into a frown. “What do you mean?” 

You lie back down, looking up at the ceiling with tears in your eyes. It’s a good thing the lights were off. “I saw him tonight. He’s here.” 

“He’s here?” She doesn’t hide the shock in her tone and you nod. “Why didn’t you go to him?” 

“It’s weird.” You admit. “I’m kinda scared.”

It’s true. You were scared. At first, you were shocked but then you were scared. Chishiya were in the same deadly games you’ve been in. Needless to say, they were traumatic and insane. You don’t doubt that he won all those games but still, you were scared. One wrong move is all it takes sometimes. He could die any day here in Borderlands instead of him waiting for you in the real Tokyo. And would he care about you here? Without the threat of your parents knowing their daughter’s every move?

“You’re scared of your boyfriend?” She huffs, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s the thing. He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer with a sad voice. “I was just this girl who chased him around. I didn’t mean a thing to him. I’m scared that he won’t care about me here.” 

Usagi places a hand on top of mine. 

“I’m sure he will. You’re hard not to care about, Y/N.” 

You slept that night with a heavy heart. You’ve come a long way in the games. You sacrificed, killed, and bled just so you can come back to a life that was not even worth living for a man that was fighting for his life in the games as well. 

It scares you a lot because as much as you do not care about what happens to you, you know that you’ll die for him. You realize that your feelings for him run that deep. You love him that much. 

That very night, you realize that your goal in Borderland has changed.

It wasn’t to go back to Chishiya. It was to make sure that he gets out of here alive. Even if meant your damnation, you’ll gladly take it. 

The next morning, Arisu, Usagi, and you went around the Beach to gather information. There wasn’t much. You learned that there weren't any games beyond Tokyo and it wasn’t accessible at all. Whoever leaves Tokyo or the country, a laser shoots them from the sky. 

The three of you assume that the only real way to get out of here was to play the games. 

“I’ll go to the annex basement,” Usagi says as the three of you walk outside the building. “I’ll go get some food supplies and any weapons that we can use.” 

“I’ll go with you,” you tell her. She nods at me. “I’m going to look for someone I know.”

You spun and nodded at Arisu. “I’ll look for some more information if I can, in case we need it.” 

The two of you separated from Arisu and did what you told him you will. You didn’t find Chishiya. You didn’t think it wise to ask the residents of the Beach about his whereabouts because it wouldn’t be wise for them to know about your association with him. None of these people can be trusted.

When the three of you met up once again, Usagi began to tell Arisu that the Beach had gathered quite a large number of firearms and it was guarded. 

“As long as they have those firearms, Hatter is dangerous,” Usagi worried.

You nod. “The militants too. They overpower us.” 

Arisu stops walking, thinking deeply. Usagi asks him what’s wrong but he walks again and looks out the window. 

Out there, the residents of the Beach we’re partying like there’s no tomorrow. 

“The Beach,” Arisu starts. “A utopia built upon charisma. However, maybe that’s just our imagination. A utopia doesn’t exist in this world.” 

Usagi and you look at each other, confused at your friend’s mumbling.

“Usagi. Y/N. I’d like to talk to you about something.” 

He stares at the two of you deeply in the eye, waiting for your answer intently. 

You let out a loud huff. “Why? What’s got you serious all of a sudden?”

You were mad. You found Chishiya on the rooftop with Kuina. How dare him tell Arisu to specifically leave you out of his plan? 

“Y/N?” The tall woman was the first one to see you approaching with heavy breaths and clenched fists. 

“Why would you tell Arisu to leave me out of the plan? What if something happens to the four of you? What am I supposed to do?” You protest in anger. 

“Kuina.” 

He only says her name but Kuina understands him. She gives him a nod and taps you on your shoulder before heading inside and out of the rooftop. 

“I want to help. I want to leave here too,” you plead with him and take his hand. He pulls it away from your grasp and your heart doesn’t miss to ache because of that action. 

“What is so valuable about your life outside Borderlands, anyway?” 

“What?” 

“You spend all day swiping Daddy’s credit card and drinking with your fake plastic friends. And when you’re bored of them, you come to the hospital to annoy me.” 

“Why are you saying this?” Tears well up in your eyes. It’s not that he was lying. All he said was true. You know that you do, in fact, annoy him. You don’t forget the evident irritation on his face whenever he sees you approaching before Borderlands. 

You couldn’t help it. Even if the life you had before was dull, there was something about him that pulled you in. You know that he never liked you despite the association of your parents to his. But to hear it tonight, right when you’ve only asked him if you could be a part of his plans—that you want to help him leave The Beach and out of Borderlands.

“Just go back to your room, Y/L/N.” 

Stupid. Worthless. Annoying. That’s what he thinks you are. You’re too stupid to be in his oh-so-great plans to leave The Beach. You’re worthless in his and your own life. Most of it all, you were nothing but a nuisance to him. He doesn’t even think of you as a friend. He just thinks of you as someone whom his parents thrusted to. 

You agree it’d be better if you weren’t sent to this world with him. But you were. 

“I’m serious. You’ll mess up my plan,’ he even adds. 

“Why would I do that? What about the games I played? Do you not think I’ve won them with my hard work?” 

He makes a tsk sound, staring ahead. It was chillier on the rooftop than expected and your long-sleeved shirt wasn’t enough to shield you from the cold. But you endure it for him and for this argument. 

“No. You’ve won games on your own.”

“Then why?” You plead. “Why do you think I’m incapable?” 

“I don’t think you’re incapable.” 

“Probably not. But you think I’m nothing but a burden to you.”

“You are.” Typical. Unfiltered and cruel truth comes out of his mouth.

“Then you should just let me die in the games I will be in. That way, you’re free of me forever. You’d be able to come back to our life, Chishiya. I know it. I just want to help you. Because I—, even if I’m not your friend, you are mine.” You rarely call him by his last name. The only other times were when it was necessary so you don’t doubt that he felt the coldness in your voice when you uttered his name. 

‘Because I love you’, you almost let out. 

You don’t wait for his answer and turn around, leaving him alone on the rooftop with his uncaring face and his hand inside the pocket of his white jacket. 

While his other hand, the one you held in yours, twitches against the cold breeze of the night. 

As Shuntaro’s childhood friend, his unfiltered words were nothing but old news to you. Every time he’d push you away and tell you mean things in disguise of cold harsh truth, you won’t deny that you feel a pang of pain in your heart for a millisecond. But, as aforementioned, with the years you’ve known the nonchalant cat-man, you’ve learned to tug that feeling away as soon as possible. 

Right now though, you find yourself exhausted dealing with him. 

Now, your feet have carried you to Arisu’s doorstep instead of yours. Despite knowing Chishiya before Borderlands, you weren’t brought here with him. You had your first games alone. That’s when you found Usagi and then eventually, a distraught and defeated Arisu lying on the street. 

You spent most of your time in Borderlands with him and Asugi. The three of you joined The Beach together. Who would’ve thought you’d find your long-time crush and friend here as one of the executives?

But before knowing he was here, all your thoughts consisted of the guilt of survival. After all the games you were in, why have you survived? You didn’t deserve it. You don’t consider yourself a good person. You were high on privilege and you basked in it. Your life was pointless with no real hardship.

You’ve confided in Arisu when these thoughts occur. It wasn’t because he was good at comforting you. It was because he understood. He told you he lived a similar life before Borderlands. You picked each other up when he lost Karube and Chotta. 

You knocked on his door while hugging yourself in one arm. Your head was all scrambled and there was an aching pain in your heart because of Chishiya.

“Y/N?” 

Arisu opens the door to you with tears streaming down your face. His hair was shaggier than usual and he could barely open his eyes. You felt a bit guilty for waking him up so late at night.

“What happened?”

And then you spilled everything to him—the talk with Chishiya and the way you felt about the blonde. You told him how you felt cast aside on the plan to steal the cards.

In the dark of Arisu’s room and on his bed, you tore open your heart in front of him. Your friend sat quietly on the side, listening while rubbing your back in comfort. 

It’s ironic how Arisu felt more like a friend than someone you knew for more than a decade. To Chishiya, you were nothing but a burden. Just someone who his parents wanted him to be associated with. His father is a great doctor and a good friend of your father, the owner of multiple hospitals all over Japan. 

And you, you were studying medicine as well but you never particularly felt attached to it. It felt like something you had to do. You were supposed to inherit all of it anyway. 

You don’t consider yourself intelligent but you had good grades up to high school. It was during college that you started to drift away. 

Little do you know, your parents didn’t think you were capable of handling all your businesses from the start. That’s why they chose Chishiya. He was put in the same classes as you from high school up to med school. It was never spoken of but both of you know—Chishiya was being put beside you to marry you and have him take over the company. Chishiya Shuntaro, the genius child. 

It was what your parents wanted. It was what his parents wanted. It was what you learned to want. It was what he never wanted.

No, he did want your father’s position. He was always drawn to power and control. And he will get it. But you were the weight that had to come with it. It hurts but it’s the truth. 

You clung to him for a long while. But a person can only take so much. Maybe he finally had enough. Without your parents in Borderland, he was free of your childish antics. If you die out here, you know that your parents will still take him in. In fact, maybe they’d be glad that they’ve gotten rid of you. It was nothing but a formality after all—just to say that the next owner is still of your father’s blood. 

Despite all that, you love him. You love all of him. You love him even if he looks bored to death when he’s with you. You love him even if he straight up refuses to teach you the lessons you have a hard time on, only to give you his notes right after and even quiz you on them. You love him so much that you accepted being treated like you were worthless and nothing but a pretty display of a daughter by your father so you can have him. If Chishiya wanted to be selfish, then so can you. If he has your position as chairman, then you’ll have him. It’s only fair. He can be happy with his power and miserable with you and you can be happy with him and miserable with your life. 

Chishiya is a complicated person. You know that deep inside, he has learned to care for you. Even for a little bit. Well, that’s what you try to believe.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” You say to Arisu when you are done venting. 

Arisu smiles and sighs. 

“Our plan, Y/N. It’s dangerous and I understand him.”

You sniffed and paused. “You think I’m incapable too?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head violently. “No. No. That’s not what I meant.” You chuckled at his troubled facial expressions. 

“I meant that if I cared about someone, I wouldn’t want them in danger.” He explains himself. 

You went quiet after those words. Was it possible? Was it possible that Chishiya was ignoring and pushing you away in Borderlands because he… cared? 

You don’t want to hope… but god do you want to. 

“He hasn’t seen you in those games. You are more than capable, Y/N. I know it. But I know that if I had the option, I won’t risk putting my friend in danger.” 

You nod, taking in his words with understanding. You want to believe that Arisu was right. You want to trust Chishiya. But could you? Do you really know the man behind the rose-colored glasses you wear when you see him? 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

That night, you stayed with Arisu in his room after arguing with Arisu to let you sleep on the couch instead of his bed. You only didn’t want to risk seeing Chishiya if you went back to yours, especially when his room was a couple of doors down from yours. And you were too tired that you just wanted to crash. 

As you stare at the ceiling of the room and feel the digging of your shoulder blades and hips on the couch, you think about the person you and Chishiya were before Borderlands. It hasn’t been long but you’ve already found yourself comfortable with sleeping anywhere, not bathing for days, and hardly eating anything at all. You hadn’t faced any of these hardships. 

Arisu was already awake when knocking on his door woke you up from your slumber on his couch. You stirred yourself awake and stood up from the couch. 

“Kuina,” you hear him say as he opens the door. 

You rise to your feet and head to the door. Kuina’s stare lingers at your recently woken-up form but waves at you and greets you anyway. You wave back.

Kuina whispers something to Arisu and he nods then looks back at you. “Y/N. You can follow Kuina after you’ve fixed yourself, okay?” 

You hate this. You felt like a child being taken care of. 

Kuina guides you outside the building after being holed up inside your room for the day. It seemed like the plan was a success and you were just waiting for the others.

You tap your foot repeatedly to aid your nerves. Kuina stood beside you quietly, chewing on her stick. 

“It’s really hard not to have a smoke right now,” she sighs and talks to no one in particular. 

“What’s taking them so long?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

As if on cue, Chishiya walks out of the building with his hands in his pockets. You frown when there was no one who followed him next, no sign of the shaggy-haired boy and the athletic girl you’ve grown to love.

“I guess it’s time to say goodbye to this too.” Chishiya removes the band from his wrist indicating his ranking among the executives. 

You follow him with your gaze but look behind him from time to time. 

“Where’s Arisu? Usagi?” You ask him, worry evident in your tone. 

Chishiya stares at you, looking at you with those unfeeling and unemotional eyes. You stare back at them, trying to decipher what he means. And then it hits you.

“No,” you breathe out. 

You look at the girl beside you who hung her head low, not being able to look at you.

“Kuina?” Your voice weakened. 

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Anger filled your senses and for the very first time ever, you felt hatred for the man in front of you. 

“You sacrificed them?!” 

He looks away. “It was the only way.” 

“They’re my friends,” you complain with a heavy heart. “Arisu is my friend.” 

“I feel really bad for them, Chishiya,” Kuina adds. 

His gaze flits back to you. “Oh, is that why you ran to your friend’s room for the night after our argument?” 

How did he know that? But why does he care?

“Yes. Because unlike you, he gives a shit about me.” You answer with spite. “How could you do this to him? To me? Is this why you didn’t include me in the plans? Because you know I’ll stop you?” 

Chishiya doesn’t answer for a while. Silence fills the void between the two of you. Kuina stays silent by your side, watching the scene unfold with her eyes. 

“Then go.”

His words held no emotion as he stared at you deadly.

“I betrayed them so we can go out. The three of us. But if you want to go, then go. Help them. I don’t care.” 

You look at him and then back to the building. Arisu and Usagi were probably being held by the militants right now. You’ll be outnumbered and caught. But what were you going to do? Go with Chishiya and leave them to die? You thought about the awful things they would’ve done to the three of you if it wasn’t for Hatter stopping them and you felt sick to your stomach. This was not the game. You aren’t supposed to kill and betray unless you were forced to in a game. 

Arisu and Usagi are your friends. Chishiya is your friend. You’ve never had real friends before, at least no one really felt like they were. Arisu and Usagi were the first people who made you feel like they were happy to be your friend. 

You can’t leave your friends. 

“You have the cards, right?” You ask him.

He smirks. “Of course, I do.” 

He says it with confidence like he has the ticket to the way out of Borderlands. With this, he was so sure that you’d have to come out of him. So you can go out. That was what he believed you wanted—that you wanted to go back to your life before. 

But he was wrong. 

“Then you’ll be fine.” 

His eyes widened for a second before they turned to something different. They weren’t as dark or lifeless as they usually are. Instead, you could almost see a hint of surprise and maybe even hurt spread across his eyes. 

You jump to him and wrap your arms around the man. How many times have you hugged him? You could probably count it with your hands. So you take it in, close your eyes, and try to engrave the feeling in your brain.

“Take care of my parents and the hospitals, yeah?” You whisper in his ear and hold on for five more seconds before completely letting him go.

“Kuina, look out for him, please?” You ask the tall girl but don’t wait for her answer.

Chishiya still stares at you, unspeaking. You look at him one more time and give him a sad smile with tears in your eyes before turning around. You’re afraid that if you look back again, you’ll run to his arms once more and cry about how much you love him.

He doesn’t care if you do. It’s better for you to leave him.

He has the cards now which means he’ll be fine. He can get out of here. If there was someone who can, it was him. 

He has no purpose for you anymore and you’ll only be a burden. 

With that, you run back inside the building. 

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only in ao3 under the name vantantae. thank you.