Within The Forest | Chapter 13

within the forest | chapter 13

pairing: fairy!Chan x princess!reader x prince!Seungmin word count: 2.8k words summary: Is this the end of our story?

warning: mentioned of death a/n: prepare a box of tissues </3 and the italic font is a flashback

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She leaned her head on her arm and watched the raindrops pattering down on the window. Her eyes fell on Seungmin standing across her, one of his hands holding a loaf of bread and the other carefully slicing the bread. Next to him, the contents of the pot were boiling, and the steam mixed with the smell was wafting through the kitchen.

The kitchen was empty, as the king had excused his workers for the day, saying that today was their glorious day. She was speechless and her stomach churned at the thought of anything happening to Chan. Last night’s nightmare and the absence of Chan in the morning only intensified the eerie whispers in her head.

Chan would be fine, and Taehyun and Beomgyu would protect him if the worst happened.

Fortunately, Seungmin came to her rescue. His offer to cook his favourite dish and lend an ear to her story was so tempting that she had to accept it. It had been pouring since the morning, so everyone, including her, had to stay inside or they would get soaked.

And it was something new for her…normally, on days like this, she would leave the house and play in the rain with Chan until one sneezed – it acted as a sign for them to stop and return to the fireplace to warm themself.

The soft knock on the table interrupted her thoughts as she glanced up and saw Seungmin’s small smile before he sat before her. On the table was a plate with slices of bread and a bowl of soup, the smell of which made her stomach growl. When she heard it, a chuckle escaped her lips as her face began to turn red.

“It’s just a simple dish that my mom taught me when I was having a bad day,” Seungmin said as she took a spoonful of the soup and popped it into her mouth. Seungmin unconsciously chewed on his lower lips, his fingers rubbing together as he silently observed every change in her facial features. He had never cooked for anyone before.

Her eyes lit up with surprise and she let out a hum. Seungmin’s shoulders slumped in relaxation when hearing it.

“Thank you for cooking this, min!”

“You’re welcome! I hope it helps you forget the nightmare.”

She continued to enjoy the food and he turned his head toward the pile of paper resting on the table along with the food, he sighed. He propped his head on his palm.

“The marriage is next week…are you prepared for it?”

His smile disappeared instantly after asking it. If it were him, he would answer no – not when everything felt rushed and out of place. A wedding in the middle of a hunt for her best friend and his newfound fairy friends, how could the king think it was a good idea?

A wedding should take place in a peaceful setting…

Scoffing, she put the spoon aside. “Does my answer matter?”

“Of course it does! It's about your future, which everyone has to decide for themselves!” Frustration resonated in his voice as he buried his face in his palm. She giggled and took his hand.

“Honestly, I’m not, but since it’s with you, I don’t mind. I’m looking forward to our future,” she said and he could hear his heart beating aggressively against his ribcage as he rubbed his slightly flushed ear.

He turned his palm and intertwined their fingers. “Thank you for giving me a chance, Y/N. I promise I’ll take care of you for your family and Chan. Oh, talking about Chan, I’m excited to meet him after this!”

“I’m still glad that you get along with him well.”

“He and the other are so kind …I don’t understand why the King wants to kill them.”

She didn’t understand either.

After finishing the dish, she cleaned it up and headed to her bedroom with a container filled with cookies they baked earlier. They will be heading to Chan’s cottage later since Seungmin needed to clean the kitchen’s mess first.

She placed the container next to the black feather and sat on her study desk. The branches had been dancing and beating against the window pane since she had entered. She paid less attention to it and let her gaze wander into the forest. Her memories of Chan surfaced in the back of her mind.

Ten years had passed since their first encounter, but it still felt like yesterday. How soft his dark wings were beneath her delicate fingertips, the confused look they exchanged and the first invitation that led to their friendship today.

A small smile tugged on her lips as she remembered that moment. A gust of wind slipped through the creaking window sill, pushing an untouched letter towards her. She reached for the letter and opened it while tilting her head, brows furrowing.

Why she didn’t notice it? How long had it been here?

Her eyes immediately noticed a smudged red stain at the end of the letter. A loud thud echoed through the room before she could make out the words on the paper. She jerked her head around and her eyes widened at the sight of a figure lying on the floor. 

She ran over to him and helped him to lean against the bed. He was half conscious, his eyelids tightly closed, when a soft moan sounded.

The grip on his wounded stomach tightened as he struggled against the pain. A thick red liquid flowed slowly from his hand and spread over his wet shirt.

“Beomgyu! What happened?” There was a note of panic in her voice.

“An…attack. The Stellious army is attacking us. We're trying to stop them, but someone is helping them.”

The door flew open and Seungmin rushed to her side, pressing on Beomgyu’s wound to stop the blood from gushing out so much.

“Why are you here?! Why aren't they here?!” Her body trembled with fear.

She was worried about Chan.

Her gut feeling was right. Her nightmare wasn’t a demon game.

“Chan sent me to warn you. He asks you to stay put and not look for him” A cry escaped Beomgyu’s lips. She pulled a box from under her bed and took out bandages and a sewing kit.

“This is going to be painful, Beomgyu. Please hang in there.”

She took her hand from the wound, revealing bloody, torn skin. It was a sword gash.

She dabbed the bandage around the wound, cleaned up the excess blood and began to stitch, though the metallic fluid didn’t seem to stop. Seungmin held Beomgyu’s hand. By the time Beomgyu’s wound had sewed up, her hands were coated with blood.

She stared at her trembling hands while thousands of scenarios played out simultaneously in her head and a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her. She stood up and grabbed the feather, her hands clenched around it.

With glossy eyes, she spared Beomgyu a glance.

“Princess don’t!” He pleaded with watery eyes

“I’m sorry, Beomgyu!”

Beomgyu jumped towards her and tried to stop her, but it was too late. His action hurt him even more as he landed on his injured stomach.

The wave of dark dust engulfed her.

Her heels froze on the ground as the sight of the ordeal presented itself to her. The grass was covered in blood and the rain soaked the corpses. Swords and arrows all covered in the same liquid scattered across Chan’s front yard. A field of blood

A field where they used to dance and play

Y/N’s POV

"My dad said magic is dangerous because it can make people selfish. He always said that those born with magic are evil," I uttered, staring at the soil in my palm. You twirl your finger around the soil and a purple crocus emerges, unfurling its beautiful violet-purple petals. You plucked the flower, wiped off the excess soil and tugged the fresh blossom to my ear – I loved how a smile immediately dominated your face.

"Yes, for some people, but I'll never be like them. Anyway, do you want to see something amazing?"

"Sure!"

You stared at one of the trees nearby, your grey eyes glowing a bright colour compared to your dull eyes, which I found incredible. The branches of one of the trees came towards us, forming a circle beneath me and lifting me into the sky.

 I shivered from the height, but that subsided when I saw the scenery, The Stellious Kingdom. The view from up there was amazing, like you said, breathtaking even. You were next to me, hugging me gently from the side.

Was it possible to feel comfortable around someone you've only known since yesterday?

"Why would Dad and Mom hide such scenery from me, Channie?" I turned my gaze to you, hoping for an answer.

"I don't know, little Flora."

"They always lock me in the palace, I've never been allowed out. Except yesterday."

"Maybe they're trying to keep you away from any danger. Besides, not everyone you meet in the future has a pure heart"

I sighed "You're right. My parents know what dangers can come my way if no one takes care of me, but I feel safe with you, Channie."

"Thank you, little Flora. I feel safe and happy in your company, but you must tell your mother before you come to see me, mhm?"

You were wrong, Chan, danger was always at my side and held me hostage.

How could he?

Tears gathered under my eyes as my heart beat faster. I whirled around, my hand wrapped around the doorknob. My hands kept slipping as I tried to pry the door open. My knuckles turned white when I finally managed to turn the doorknob.

The pattering of the rain faded away from my hearing and was replaced by the sound of my heartbeat. A soft gasp was all I could produce.

Was this what he meant by glorious day?

"This place is fantastic!!! Can I come here often?" I asked with a hopeful tone. You sigh as you fetch two cups of tea, placing one in front of me and sitting opposite me.

"Only if your mother lets you"

When I heard your reply, I immediately sulked. I know they won’t like you

 "Mom certainly wouldn't allow it. She's too strict and also busy with Dad," I crossed my arms and pouted.

"Then sure. You can come here. Do you like reading? I still have tons of unread books on the shelf."

"Yes, yes!!! I love books!” You emerged and picked up some books. You handed them to me. I gasped and started turning the pages and getting engrossed in the story. Minutes passed and you just stared at me, a few careless giggles escaping my lips as I imagined the scene in my head.

"Reading books is the only way I forget that I'm alone and stuck in the palace. When I read, I feel like I'm not in that dim room," I blurted out, lifting my gaze and meeting your eyes. You were taken back for the second time that day

"Me too. It helps me forget my pain" You calmly replied

"I'm glad I've someone who thinks like me"

 I laughed and read on. I was glad that I had met someone who could understand me for the first time. The hours passed and the sun began to hide behind the horizon and welcome the moon. You, who noticed the change, quickly spoke up

"It's getting late, little Flora. Let's go home, shall we?" I nodded vigorously, closed the book and hugged it tightly to my chest.

And the dam broke and gushed into my cheeks. I rushed to the lifeless body in the middle of the cottage. Each step I took grew heavier as I tried to deny the truth in my head.

No, this is a dream

It must be

I sank to my knees and pulled your head into my lap. My tears fell on your pale face … since when has your face been so pale?

One night I woke up and realised that you weren’t lying next to me in bed. I looked up and the guilt consumed me. I was sleeping on your lap, you hadn’t moved me. I sat, leaning against the wall, next to you.

You sleep fitfully because of me. I let your head sink onto my shoulder and your arm wrapped around my waist. I ruffled your hair before sleep engulfed me again.

“Hey, Channie, wake up,” I whispered, resting my forehead on yours. My arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you close. It felt empty without you returning my embrace.

You must be freezing, right?

Is this the end?

“You promised to accompany me at my wedding. You promised me that you would show me your drawing”

“I’m sorry, Chan. I wasn’t there for your last moment,” I sniffled. I would no longer feel your warm hand wiping away my tears. I wouldn’t hear your laughter anymore. No one will accompany Seungmin and me to the river anymore.

Your smile in the back of my head will hurt me now.

Loud footsteps startled me and I jerked my head towards the source and saw Seungmin and an injured Taehyun. I opened my mouth, but nothing came tumbling out.

I stood before the grave as Seungmin and Taehyun pushed the last lumps of dirt into the hole. I pulled the blanket tighter around my body. The stain on my cheeks was abandoned as I knew it was pointless to wipe them off.

You were six feet under the ground ... next to your parents.

Suddenly I remembered your siblings. How would they react? Would they react like me or even worse?

“Thank you for everything, Chan.”

This is our last goodbye, Bang Chan

I arrived at my room with new clothes after Seungmin asked me to change. I looked over at Beomgyu and Taehyun who were sleeping in my bed, their clothes still soaked with blood and rain. My heart wrenched with guilt as I remembered that my father was the cause of their injuries and Chan’s death.

It was surreal to say this out loud. It felt like the aftertaste of biting into a poison ivy.

They can’t leave the castle yet, the army has probably moved through the forest looking for the fairies.

I went to my desk and picked up the diary Taehyun had given me. It was your last gift to me. Did you foresee your death, Chan?

I sat down on the floor and began to read the entries. A thin smile appeared on my lips. You wrote a lot about your siblings and me, even about the moment your parents died.

Until I stopped at a page. The page was half torn, and the uneven edge showed a sign of hesitation. Why did you want to throw it away?

: I was supposed to kill the princess tonight, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She's just a little girl! How could I? You can’t blame me, no one can, unless they’re evil enough. I set the bakery on fire because Flora was there alone. When I heard her screaming for her mother, something within me ached. The guilt I felt back then has never gone away.

I rushed back into the house, hugged her tiny silhouette and threw myself onto the roof before the bakery exploded…. before she died. There are long scars on my wings now. I think of them as a gift for saving the girl. So I can remember that was my last mission before I left Duncan. Duncan would kill me now, wouldn’t he? If this is my final entry, consider I’d die in Duncan’s hands. I don’t think I will make it out alive the next time I meet him.

A dot appeared on the page, one after the other. I buried my face in the book. I found it harder to breathe, my mouth was gasping for air to fill my burning throat.

Is that true? You wrote it. You won’t lie in your diary.

An arson… that was the accident. He was misunderstood.

He was a villain who wanted to change, but fate betrayed him. The king had never considered what one must do to survive. He had not considered that a family grieves when it learns of the death of a loved one.

My arm fell to my side and I flinched as I felt the cold on my finger. I looked up and saw a dagger, the dagger I had brought with me from the cottage. A voice told me to pick it up and I did.

I stood up and marched to the king’s office.

But Chan promised himself that he wouldn’t do it again.

I opened the door quietly and walked towards him. He was staring through the window at the city.

You don’t deserve this ending

I raised the dagger, my nails digging into my skin with rage. Was it rage? Or just despair?

Out of the blue, a hand was shoved into my mouth and the other held my hand from behind. The figure dragged me out of the room. The silhouette of the king slowly disappeared from my field of vision as tears welled up in my eyes.

within the forest | chapter 4

pairing: fairy!Chan x princess!reader word count: 2.8k words summary: a plan that didn't go well a/n: I'm writing something but I'm scared of how it'll turn out.

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[10 YEARS LATER]

“Princess Flora, please leave the kitchen.” The head chef spoke out, causing the long-haired woman to spin around to meet his stern gaze. She sighed lowly, hearing that name slip out from him again although countless times she reminded him not to call her that unless it was outside of the palace or her future husband was coming.

Her arranged future husband is coming today. Since she’s 19 years old and next in line to take the throne, her father has asked her to get married to someone to help reign Stellious. She dislikes it, yes but she had to obey it. It’s the only way to maintain Stellious peace with other kingdoms that may appear as a threat to them.

“You always recognize me, Simon.”

“Your hairpin, your majesty. Now, please leave the kitchen or the king will be upset with me.”

Her hand automatically reached for the lily hairpin tug on the back of her hair whilst smiling softly. Of course, how hard she tried to blend in with the crowd, the palace people would know it was her by her custom hairpin. So disguising as one of the cookers was impossible with the hairpin on.

“How about let me go this time? I want to help prepare the food for the prince. I’ll cover you up if Father finds out.”

Simon shook his head, disapproving of her idea. He abruptly raised his head when hearing heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen area. He held the princess by the shoulder, pushing her to the staircase that led to her room.

“Princess, the prince is coming. Please head to your room and get ready. The king wouldn’t be pleased to see you here.”

“Fine, see you in a bit.” She ran off. Her silhouettes slowly turned blurry in Simon’s vision as she parted from him. He released a sigh of relief and shook his head before returning to the kitchen. The sole daughter of the king had always something up in her sleeve.

Maybe after 3 hours, we’ll meet again. She muttered and ran to her room with a big smile and exhilaration crawling inside her although it was a bummer she didn’t get a chance to cook for him, as in Bang Chan. She never intended to cook for her future husband once she set foot in the kitchen. She was embarrassed because Chan was the one who prepared meals for her when they were hanging out.

Shutting the door, she changed into new clothes, a much simpler one and took her archery set between the interjected dresses. Grabbing the black feather off the table, she held it tightly and filled her mind with his image but the creaking of the door interrupted her.

“Princess Flora, why haven’t you changed yet?”

“Ummmm….I will but can you give me a moment, Sara?” 

The maid averted her eyes from her face to the object she held. Quickly, she grabbed Y/N’s hand gently.

“Let go of the feather, Princess.”

She glanced, cocking her brows. She was bewildered by the request. Does the maid know where she is heading? Her father must have told her already about her disappearance without a trace a decade ago. 

“I apologise but I don’t want to.”

In a blink, they vanished from her room, leaving the door wide open for anyone to witness their sudden disappearance.

Y/N let go of the feather, realising the surroundings had changed from the bedroom with brownish walls to an open meadow. Birds chirping the sweet melody of the morning soon entered their ear. Sara observed around while confusion struck as her hand slowly fell to the side. 

“What am I going to answer him now..?” she whispered while walking back and forth between the door and Sara, dumbfounded by the situation. She’d promised Chan not to bring anyone with him to the cottage. Bringing Sara with her was an incident, she never thought Sara would hug her the moment she teleported here. 

“Should I knock… ugh!” she shut her eyes for a mere second, gaining back her composure before heading toward Sara, only to be greeted by empty air. Agitated, she glanced at every corner(although there weren’t any corners because it was a huge forest) searching for Sarah's small figure until a peal of laughter entered her ears. The voice was coming from behind her. 

“Sara!!” she made her way toward her and kneeled beside her. Sara was too absorbed with her watching until Y/N had to call her name twice for her to notice her existence beside her. Sara’s shoulder jolted in surprise.

“Your Highness! I’m sorry I ran without your permission!!” She instantaneously rose to her feet, bowing her whole body - a sign of begging for forgiveness. A sigh left Y/N’s lips as she commanded Sara to stop what’s she doing.

“Did this flower and butterfly attract you?”

“Yes, they did, your highness. My mother doesn’t allow me to step out of the kingdom. All I saw and breathed in my 18 years of life were flying dust from the carriage and the suffocating smell of mixed charcoal and freshly baked bread. My life isn’t beautiful like it is in your palace.”

Sara spoke as her chin rested on her arms. It looks like Sara shared an almost similar story with her.

“I didn’t mean like am I hating on Stellious. This kingdom is beautiful! I simply describing the environment in the late evening!”

“Don’t be afraid to speak your mind, Sara. It’s not like I will punish you for speaking ill about Stellious. Honestly, I never feel happy in the palace. It’s empty since my father keeps me away from everyone but luckily I found this place and him.”

As in queue, the screeching sound of the door along with his voice came. A voice that sounds like home to her. 

"Y/N, I thought you wouldn't be here today." He spoke from the door. She emerged along with Sara. A bright and beautiful smile rested on Y/N's countenance and lit a smile on Chan's lips. She went to Chan.

"Didn't I promise to come yesterday? I want to continue our practice."

A chuckle escaped as he shook his head; entertained by her child-like attitude. Although she grew up, she always his little flora.

"Never forget how excited you were when I said I can teach you archery.”

He raised his head and came in contact with Sara’s eyes. Her figure was frozen, stunned and speechless by his appearance perhaps. Unsure of what to do, Chan just sent her a small smile.

“You bring someone with you today.”

She sheepishly grinned at him.

“She was hugging me while I was holding the feather. So, here we are”  She spread her arm widely, lightly chuckling. 

“I’m sorry, Chan.” Her arm fell to her side as a sigh escaped.

“It’s fine, little flora. Sometimes it’s more fun to have extra company. Her name was Sara, right?”

She nodded. “Sara, come in!” He waved his hand, gesturing for her to come closer to them. Seeing the gesture, Sara headed to them cautiously. After everyone got inside, he shut the door. 

“Let’s go to the backyard. I have prepared everything in the back.” 

He pushed the teak door open, leading them to the back. Y/N followed him behind but stopped when she didn’t hear Sara’s footsteps. She looked behind and mentally face-palmed herself. Sara didn’t move a bone or her eyes; stuck in the same place and her gaze was fixated on his dark wings. She grabbed Sara’s wrist, dragging her with her as the arrows in Y/N’s sling bag clicked against each other, filling their walk with a repeated sound.

“We’re here,” Chan announced and headed to the set-up table and two seats. On the table, sandwiches were plated and three to four pure water were seated there. The backyard almost looked identical to the front yard except it was more lively. Flowers in different colours and varieties spread out through the meadow.

“My apologies, Sara. I didn’t know you were coming so I didn't prepare any extra,” He glanced at her with an apologetic smile. Sara shook her head and hand, denying his word in every way possible.

“No! My apologies mister because I accidentally follow your highness. I’m sorry I have burdened you!”

“You’re not burdening me, Sara, don’t worry. Anyway,” He glanced at Y/N.

“Should we begin our practice now?”

She placed her sling bag down and snatched her bow and arrows from the bag while Sara settled down on one of the seats, awkwardly running her eyes elsewhere other than Chan’s gigantic wings. It wasn’t her fault that she was astonished by Chan; a species that every folk in Stellious was afraid of. Both from their ‘special’ features and abilities. For centuries, the king had to hunt them down because they were a threat to the kingdom but were they?

Chan stood beside Y/N, watching her close her right eye and aim for the bullseye at the round sharped target across them. 

The First shot, failed

The Second shot failed

The Third shot failed

She let out a heavy sigh and dropped the bow to her side, disappointed at her current mark. The first and second arrows were on the white circle meanwhile the third one was on the black circle. Sure, she was a beginner and shouldn't push herself to make the arrow land on the yellow circle but she was hoping to get it at least once.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, little flora. Just relax.”

He went behind her and placed his hand on top of hers, positioning the bow. His touch was gentle as if holding her hand hard enough would shatter it. He correctly fixed her shoulder and hips and stepped aside.

“Think about someone you dislike and with a deep breath, you let go of the string. Ready?”

She hummed in response and took a deep breath. She aimed for the bullseyes again but this time with an image of someone she dislikes currently. She doesn’t hate him but dislikes his abrupt decision. A decision that he made without considering her feelings. She still loves him, so much in fact. Releasing the bowstring, the arrow landed on the bullseye. Chan smiled, glad his technique worked.

 Now he wondered, who was in her mind?

“Who are you thinking?”

“My father…He arranged a marriage for me since I will reign Stellious soon.”

She placed the arrow in the bow and let go of the string.

Bullseye again.

“He said I'm incapable of ruling the kingdom alone and need a husband by my side. I hate arranged marriages because it's like pushing my feelings aside.” She’d said in a low and dissatisfied tone. She placed the bow on the grass, glancing at him afterwards.

“I’m sure he has his reason, little flora. No father will do something stupid unless it’s for his daughter's bright future. Your future husband will take care of you if I’m not here anymore” 

Her eyes widened as he uttered the last sentence. She punched his shoulder lightly as her lips dropped, forming an upside-down smile. 

“Don’t say that, Chan. I’ll protect you from whatever coming for you. I promise”

She shoved her pinky toward him and he intertwined it, giggling at her statement. Just like the little girl he met 10 years ago, she was unaware of what danger coming upon him. Not even she could protect him from it. She shouldn’t know the truth because he knew it would be the reason her happiness died. Let him conceal the painful truth with his smile and white lies.

“Okay! Let’s continue!” 

After a couple of minutes, they stopped training. How exhausting it might be but she was satisfied with the result of today's hard work. Sara, who had been seated and watching her was surprised by the princess’s skill. Ever since taking care of Y/N, she never saw the princess doing this activity. The princess schedule is often packed with manners class and history classes. It was a rare sight to see the princess doing something that only the boys and the women warriors were allowed to do in the kingdom.

“Good job for today, little flora.” Chan ruffled her hair as her ears turned a hint of red. She isn’t used to Chan’s way of showing his affection although she did it to him when she was little.

“I can do better but it’s fine. I can always try tomorrow and the day after.”

“True. Since you did a good job you should be rewarded with a present.”

“I’m not a kid, Chan.”

“Who says only kids deserve presents? Let’s hurry up before the sun goes down.” 

Carefully, Chan took her hand and pulled her to the side of the backyard, forgetting Sara’s existence there for a while. Sara followed them behind quietly, afraid of disturbing their leisure time together. 

Upon arriving, Y/N gasped at the sightseeing. They were a river streaming through the middle, splitting the meadow into two. The trees were high in height and their stems stretched out toward the river, covering the illuminating sunlight for anyone who was resting there. She was sure she wasn’t dreaming but the place looked exactly how she would describe her haven. Quiet and serenity with him.

Chan patted the space beside him, inviting her to sit with him. She sat beside him and immediately rested her head on his shoulder. She likes being this close to him, it reminds her that she has a friend, a friend that she could rely on, a friend that she already assumed was her blood brother.

“So, how was he? Is he a kind man?”

“I hope so. Today, supposedly, is my second day meeting him. My father expects me to get to know him better today.”

“But you run away. The day before too.”

She laughed, throwing her gaze at the slow-streaming river.

“If you were me, you would run away as well, Chan. I don’t like talking about myself because I don’t know myself well. There’s no point telling him lies.”

“You grow up well, little flora. I’m proud of you. I can’t wait to see you as a queen.”

“A queen…such a heavy word for me”

“Hey, I’m here for you if you need any extra hands”

From the reflection, she can see his wings moving to the front, hugging her shoulder. Taking the opportunity, she caressed his wings. Letting her fingers run through the black wings, brought her back to the first day she met him.  A meeting that began her joyful life.

“I love you, Channie”

His hand went for her shoulder, pulling her into a hug.

“I love you too, let’s stay as best friends okay little flora?”

“You like calling me little flora.”

“People in the kingdom called you Flora because the king asked them but for me because the little you had changed my life into a beautiful one. Like flora, they decorate the forest and people’s homes so it becomes more comfy and stunning”

“Thanks for those unwanted words of affirmation, Chan”

From afar, Sara became an audience. Today's event proved all of her assumptions about Chan’s species wrong. A fairy can be kind-hearted toward humans. One could not fake a sincere smile for a long time. They’re not wicked as the king told them. Was the king lying to them? To the civilians of Stellious? If yes, what for?

What could be more mortification than your daughter doesn’t show up when the prince was in your palace? No, she disappeared magically while changing and the cat got your tongue trying to give a good excuse. A bad way to end your day, huh?

The king slammed his hands on the table, and the loud thudding rang throughout his medium-decorated office. A flushed red face, clenched fists and bared teeth as he contends the madness that crawled inside him from leashing out. His right-hand man couldn’t defuse him unless he wanted a punch in his face. 

“Gale, did you send the guards to search after the princess?” He asked sternly. Gale nodded his head

“Good. I’m going to check her room” The king exited the office and headed straight to the princess' room. An instinct came to him but he brushed it off because he believed his only daughter wouldn’t do that, not to him. His steps died as he caught a glimpse of the slightly creaked door to the princess’s room. Somehow, he felt his instinct was right.

He pushed the door widely and from the corner of his eyes, he saw black powder scattered on the floor. His anger raised when he kneeled to get a better view of it. That fairy...

“Command the guards to expand the search in the forest, now!!” 

A peaceful and gorgeous evening for the princess but an unforgettable one for the king. The evening when the king's patience exploded and the only left was madness, he wanted blood under the fairy's body. For him, the fairy had crossed his limits. 

within the forest | chapter 8

pairing: fairy!Chan x princess!reader word count: 2.2k words summary: after facing the truth, something needs to change. warning: a slight mention of death

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Sara tidied Y/N's hair and tugged a lily stem onto the braids. She gazed at the princess’s expression and a disappointed sigh sounded as she set the brush back to its place. Any excitement was invisible on her face and this wasn’t the first time she witnessed it, that alone was enough to make her uneasy about the princess. Something changed inside of Y/N.

“Y/N, the Queen always searches for you in the evening. She seems sad when you aren’t here.” Sara confessed

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the statement, yet she remained silent, allowing Sara to continue. 

“I didn’t mean to be rude but you’re forgetting your family after you found Chan.” Sara watched her through the mirror, sadness lingered in her eyes when Y/N looked at her. Something inside her twitched in a bad way. The deep guilt suddenly crawled out, the feeling she never knew existed in the corner of her heart.

"You avoid the Queen, Seungmin and everyone in the palace. Everyone suddenly becomes a side character in your life when Chan appears. I know he brings happiness to you but that doesn’t mean you need to push everyone out of frame, pretending they never help you before."

“Get out, please, Sara. I will meet you in a moment” She uttered calmly but sternness was evident in her tone. Sara could tell she was holding herself back from exploding. She bowed and shut the door behind her. Y/N shut her eyes, regaining her composure, and took a big breath. Her gaze shifted to the picture beside the mirror - a portrait of her family beaming. 

Where did all of that happiness disappear? Is it her fault that her mother rarely smiles now? Was what Sara said true?  She shook her head instantly, eliminating the thought and exited the room. She headed to the dining hall where she was supposed to meet the prince.

Entering the hall, her mother swiftly held her hand and led her to the prince with a tender smile decorating her face. “Thank you for not running away this time, sweetie. I appreciate it and I’m sorry for taking your time today.”

Her eyes fell to the floor for a slight moment. She should apologised to her mother instead, not the other way around. Now, she saw the reality behind Sara’s words.

The princess and prince occupied the dimly lit library. The princess was flipping through the pages, and the storyline was vague - none of the words made sense to her preoccupied mind. Pretending to read a book was a way to avoid conversation. The latter just admired her from afar. The rumours were true after all, Stellious's only princess was exquisite, breathtaking even. It wasn’t odd if the prince had fallen for her beauty.

“Princess Flora, shall we head to the dining room? It is almost 7.30 p.m.”

“Sure” She closed the thick cover book and placed them away. The prince gestured for her to exit before him. The entire day, he couldn’t strike up any conversation with her. How can he marry someone without knowing them well? 

“Flora, I'm curious. Where did you go the other day?”

Her hands rubbed together as she walked “Out in the forest. Visiting a friend”

“Does your friend have anything to do with your unseemly behaviour today? Your smile lost its shine today,”

"I didn’t notice it”

“I want to get to know you before we go further. So, can we start as a friend?”

Her steps came to a halt. She turned at him, eyes staring directly into his. She was stunned by the request. Did she close her heart to everyone else after Chan came into her life? She was ashamed of herself after the realisation. She nodded.

“Of course. Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Y/N Flora, call me Y/N. I dislike people calling me Flora”

Seungmin chuckled “And I’m Kim Seungmin. You can call me whatever you like.” He beamed enthusiastically.

She stared at the forest through her window, hand fumbling with the black feather. Since Chan’s leaving and the unexpected meeting with Beomgyu, her head heaved with questions and worried…no, the worry had exploded into fear.

“Duncan is far away from kindness. I always see him with a dead body, the body of his victim. I’m afraid if Chan did accept Duncan’s protection, he’ll be forced into doing them again” 

“Doing what, Beomgyu?”

“Murdering, killing innocent life without solid reasons.”

The moment she heard it, she stood, frozen with widened eyes. What could surprise her more in a matter of two days? She folded her eyes as the image of Chan’s victim flashed in her mind, leaving her breathless for a moment. His smile crumbled down at the back of her mind.

“10 years, Do I want to crash down this friendship without knowing the whole picture?” Sitting in the palace, letting Beomgyu’s story devour her, wouldn’t suffice anything. With Chan’s image in her memories, she vanished from the bedroom, unaware of the infuriating eyes watching her actions behind the creaked door.

She tilted her head as she slowly pushed the door out of her way, perplexed at the slightly opened door. Setting foot in, she saw Chan duck under the fireplace and hit his head on the brick. 

“Little flora, what are you doing here late at night?”  He dusted off his worn-out trousers. He had his back on her. She felt terrified of him for the first time, not until he turned around, showing the same enchanting smile.

“Who’s Duncan?”

His face was stoic but she figured it out, he was surprised. “Just a friend, not blood-related. Let’s sit and ask everything you want.”

Taking her hand gently, he pulled her to the chair, beckoning her to sit.

“Can you explain these pictures to me then?”

She placed the pictures on the desk, observing Chan’s reaction. They were pictures of Chan with several unknown faces. She needs his honesty currently. If he were her faithful friend, he would tell her. His smile subsided, his relaxed shoulder dropped downward, and his gigantic wings engulfed his slightly quivering self. 

“There were my friends. All of them were my close friends but…”

“I had to kill them. It was either them or my siblings”

His vision turned blurry from the tears brimming on the edge of his eyes. He lowered his gaze, and the back of his hand felt wet. Words began tumbling on his tongue, and he couldn’t find a way to speak them out properly. 

“That is the condition of living under Duncan. One way or another, I was forced to kill them so my siblings are safe from the kings.”

The room suddenly filled with thousands of eyes watching them talk. She shifted her gaze to the fireplace, letting the fire crackling echo in her ear, trying to cover Chan’s low sniffling. Guilt was devouring her alive, she never thought that she would see Chan crying due to her curiosity.

“I destroy a lover, someone’s shoulder to cry on, a loving brother and sister…a friend”

The blood-crudling scream became louder in his head, and his mind ached, begging for it to stop as tears dropped to his hand more. Every attempt to move on from the past was vain, not when their scream daunting him every time someone recounts the buried memories. The tension and Chan’s sobbing were swallowing her up, she couldn’t sit still, knowing all of this happened because of her. The reason the conversation occurred was because of her. 

She shouldn’t have brought the topic up, to begin with

“It’s a sin for me to smile whereas my hand held a dead body before…”

Before he could continue, she clasped his hand with hers, a tight grip as she pulled his hand off his knee. Chan raised his face, tears staining his pale cheeks and red dominating his nose. 

“Stop… Chan. You’re torturing yourself. I shouldn’t have asked you that, it’s my fault”

His hand reached for the new bitter tear to wipe it but she beat him to it.

“Let’s stop about Duncan here and have something warm to drink. It’s freezing tonight.”  

She gave a small smile and headed to the kitchen. His eyes followed her silhouette, rising to his feet after seeing her struggling to find the items. Her head perked up at the squeaking sound of the cupboard below her. Shaking her head, she rinsed her hand and wiped Chan’s face with her damp hand. He was bewildered, tilted his head and gave a questioning look to her.

“I don’t want to see your face stained with pain.”  

“Thank you, little flora” 

They continued the half-done work, comforting silence took over when a smile was exchanged between them. The silence reminded Chan of how much Y/N had grown up. Ecstatic shouts would accompany their cooking or tea session, there was some other time when the clattering of the fallen bowl rang throughout the small kitchen area, and Chan would be panicked, thinking she’d slipped. Watching her doing everything by herself, a sense of pride concealed him.

She brought the two cups to the desk, while Chan picked some books out of the brittle shelf for them. Setting the cups down, she saw a tiny figure with wings leaning against the jar of cookies, one of them nibbling the sugar cube that slowly melted in his grasp. A speck of glittering gold dust scattered on the surface of the wood

“What are you looking at?” 

She pointed at the unknown creature, and Chan kneeled, leaning in to take a clearer view of the creature, only to sigh.

“Taehyun, Beomgyu, what are you doing?”

The blonde one grinned.

“They want to join us. If that’s okay with you” Chan turned at her, a stack of books halfway blocking his vision.

“Of course! You say it before, having extra company will be fun.” The brunette fairy’s cheek turned chubby at the reply, and a broad smile crept up on his face. She couldn’t bite back a smile.

Chan handed her a book after they sat across from each other. Now, Chan realised how many years had passed with her. It was a familiar setting but with a grown-up little flora and a never-aged man, that was him. The shout of the owl had subsided by the time they closed the book and began sharing their old story. The little ancient cottage lit up with their laughter and giggling again. Nothing is more comforting after devastation than doing something you love with your beloved. The clock had passed midnight, and Beomgyu had fallen asleep on Taehyun’s lap. Beomgyu’s lips were coated with sugar that Taehyun had to wipe off with his sleeve. Her lid became heavy, past a point that she couldn’t keep her head from slumping. 

“Let’s head to sleep, little flora. You could have told me you’re sleepy.” Chan stood up, arm draping her shoulder, leading her to his bedroom. 

“Chan…” 

He stopped and glanced at her, allowing her to continue. She collided her body with Chan’s tough one, wrapping her arm around his waist. 

“I love you and thank you for these 10 years. I’m grateful that fate let us meet. Goodnight.”  She pulled herself away and shut the door behind her. 

Her words roamed around his mind, practically leaving him frozen on the spot. An unknown emotion dominated him. Was it ecstatic? Or was it heartwarming? The last time he felt this was before his mother’s death, it was the last he told himself. Hearing those again, he wanted to shed tears all over again.  Despite his hideous and terrifying black wings, he admits he’s a soft-hearted man.

Sometimes all one needed was sincere words to make them feel appreciated. 

“Maybe Beomgyu was right and I was too fed to myself to agree with him” Chan snapped his head toward the voice, coming eye to eye with Taehyun. 

“But I'm sticking with my idea. Don’t you think it much safer living under Duncan’s protection?”

“And allowing myself to crush into a bottomless pit? I can’t face that again, Taehyun.”

“I know you will answer that. Then I’m going to be your guardian angel now.” Taehyun chuckled and Chan shook his head, disagreeing with Taehyun’s idea. Taking care of him when they first met was risky enough. Taehyun shouldn’t have left him alone, die or alive, he should stop caring about him. The blonde had done well and Chan didn’t know how to repay him for his kindness if he did accept his offer. 

“I’m not giving you an option, Chan. I’m grateful enough you’re still alive today”

“Don’t–”

“I risked my life when I met you. Protecting you from the king is far away from difficult.”

“Fine…but if things get out of your hand, leave me alone” He uttered firmly

Taehyun nodded and approached Chan. He squatted down to Chan’s leg, hovering his hand above Chan’s wound. A beaming light spread through his hand. After a while, Taehyun retreated his palm and got back on his feet.

“I’m heading home. I can’t let anything disturb Beomgyu’s sleep. Goodnight chan”

Well, I'm writing a skz x aot for fun. I'm excited to see how it will turn out! This is totally not me trying cope with the ending of attack on titan :')

within the forest | chapter 6

pairing: fairy!Chan x princess!reader word count: 1.6k words summary: another day with Chan but someone seemed displeased with your decision. a/n: posting this while waiting for my food which took longer than I expected...btw, hope you have a wonderful day today!!

main masterlist | series masterlist | next

“Come on! You will miss the sun kiss, Chan!” She ran to him, helping him carry one of the easels. Chan let a smile dominate his lips as he quickened his pace toward their painting place for today - his mother’s favourite place. While positioning the easel, he caught her spinning around the meadow - hands spread widely and her sky-blue skirt billowing. Her brown lock shone under the golden afternoon light - her eyes reflected it.

His action died down in an instant. He twirled his hand in a motion. Flowers around her bloomed after a wave of yellow dust flew across them. She seems more like a fairy than himself - glowing under the sunlight and with a beaming smile. He called out her name.

“You got entertained easily, little flora”  He ruffled her brown hair gently as she glanced up. Rosy cheeks and a broader smile plastered for him to witness. Under his touch, she still felt like the little girl he had met. It doesn’t matter if she ages up, she always would be Chan’s little flora. His flora that he would protect and care for until the end.

“We don’t live forever, Chan. So, I make sure every moment spent is exhilarating.”

“I’m glad you have that mindset. Should we start our painting session, Your Highness?” He offered his hand. She placed her hand on top of his palm - playing along. The easels were backing each other so there was no space for peeking at the other’s artwork. Beside the easels, a table stood with a colour palette and a plate of creampuff. 3 stems of purple lilac were on the plate.

“One question before we start. Why did you place the easels like this?”

“I want to keep our artwork as a surprise for each other. We’ll reveal it on my birthday”

“Whatever makes you happy, channie”

Silence took over when their hands reached for the palette and brush. The low sound from the caressing brushes was barely heard because they thought deeply about what to draw. The first stroke - your first action - will determine the outcome. 

Hours passed and the drawing began to take shape. Chan tilted his head to check up on her. With a brush on her right hand, she carefully placed black paint onto her canvas. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration before continuing to paint. She probably didn’t realise the smeared purple paint on her cheeks. He kept quiet because she was adorable with it.

“I have never seen you in a full dress before” 

“I’m not really into dresses. It limited my steps and most of my dresses were only for special occasions so I can’t wear them daily,” she replied, not sparing any glances at Chan.

“What a bummer…” he sighed and faced the canvas. He peeked at her once again before painting the features on his drawing. 

“You would look lovely and exquisite in one, little flora"

“If you are that eager, how about you be my stepbrother?” she chuckled but deep inside, she meant it. If Chan were her brother, nothing would stop their relationship - they could have fun daily without anyone judging glare.

“I would scare everyone in the palace with my hideous wings then”

“What are you blabbering about, Chan?” She set the brush away and approached him. She ran her fingers through his wings. Despite what he said, she was always fond of his wings - it was the part of him that made him special. Chan stood up and pulled her into a hug as a gesture of thank you. Parting away, the breeze blew his dark hair along the sudden ‘thud’ behind them was heard. An arrow bulged on the side of Chan’s canvas that had fallen to the grass. 

Chan yanked the arrow and untangled the tight-up paper on its shaft. Ripping the paper, a single line of words was written in red ink. He crumbled the paper and grabbed her hand. His indecipherable face caused curiosity to crawl into her. 

“You need to return now, little flora. They found me” he said, voice oddly calm.  

“Who did?”

“Them. Meet you tomorrow, safe ride” He closed his eyes as black feathers began consuming her. She vanished when the feather turned into dust. Chan eyed the canvas, a contemplating sigh escape. He twirled his finger and all of the equipment entered his cottage. He unfolded his palm, the paper uncrumpled, revealing the sentence - the bigger threat is coming, better watch out.

The strong light blinded her as she sat up, pondering while looking around. Open flower fields filled with her mother's favourites. Why is she here? Why did Chan send her back? Despite the strong light, she could make out a silhouette at the gazebo far away - a fully dressed woman, rushing toward her. 

“Flora? Where have you been?!” 

Oh, it was her mother, face worrying than ever. Her mother helped her stand up. 

“I was walking around, reliving my childhood. You don’t have to worry, Mother”

“How couldn’t I? I asked anyone about your whereabouts and nobody saw you!” 

She took her mother’s hand into hers, lips resting into a tender smile. Sometimes chasing her freedom, she forgot the one who allowed her to experience it - her mother. Was it a selfish act? Lying to her queen to save Chan and herself from being punished? Her grip tightened, yet careful so she didn’t hurt her.

“I’m sorry, mother.” 

“Let’s go inside. Father and Seungmin must be waiting for me” Her mother nodded and they went inside the palace. 

[later that night]

He threw the paper into the forked flame of the fireplace, watching it crumble into pieces and turn into ashes. His eyes were shut when a line of memory hit him, returning him to the past he wanted to forget. His wings wrapped around him as if they were comforting him. The scar that stretched across his right wing was visible under the fire. 

“Did the fire remind you of that accident?” A deep, familiar voice spoke out from behind the chair.

“What are you doing here, Duncan?” He asked, clearly unwelcoming the guest of the night. A figure lurked out of the shadow - a tall man with a pair of wings similar to Chan. His wrinkly face was wearing a sinister grin, it was more like a mocking grin the more Chan stared at it. A modern suit fitted him, an expensive suit for a man like him. He must be out on another hunting. 

“I heard from Minho that you made a new friend. The Stelious Princess, wasn’t it? What a decision when you’re on the verge of death. The king already had threatened you”

Chan faced him “You would tell me that if you have an offer to make. Stop beating around bushes.”

Duncan chuckled “Work with us again and I’ll guarantee your safety. Besides, could you bear your siblings mourning over your death?”

Chan’s face remains stoic although Duncan’s words twisted his inside. Imagining it was enough to terrify him. 

“Say yes, chan. You aren’t risking your life for a stranger” Duncan extended his hand in an inviting gesture, unfolded palm shoved in front of Chan. Chan wanted to take his hand but he stopped when a screeching scream rang in his ear. He hesitated, hand hovering over Duncan’s.

A train of memory winded in his head, and his hand instantly retreated. He questioned himself - do you want to experience the pain again? Do you want to be called a betrayer again?

“Your offer was sincere, Duncan but I say no. I can handle the king by myself”

“Minho will continue working with you. I’m not capable of it” 

Duncan scoffed, turning around. “Then, all the best. I’ll be there if you change your mind” 

"We'll see how far you will go for that girl"

Outside the cottage, two fairies watched Chan through the window. They couldn’t understand their discussion due to the distance they were in. The brunette fairy stood on the branches, holding the trunk to balance himself on the thin branch. He huffed. The forest was cornered with huge black thorns that grew from the ground. It will be difficult for someone to barge into the forest now.

“That fairy caged us in here, Taehyun!” He sulked while he nibbled his sugar cube.

“It’s for our safety as well, Beomgyu. The king will kill us if he sees us”

“But…”

“Another sulking from you and I’ll throw all of your sugar cubes, gyu”

“Fine!”

Her footsteps rang loudly in her ear as she headed toward her bedroom. The dim light from the candle in the hallway did less to brighten her path. As she took a step, the guilt from the dept of her heart escaped as the image of her mother flashed in her mind. How could she neglect her duty as a good daughter to her mother? Why did she realised it now?

“Make up your mind, Gale! Kill the fairy or I’ll execute your son!”

Her steps halted as well as her breath. She glanced beside her, instantly stepping back when she noticed it was the King’s office. The shadow on the floor shows how the king was grasping his hair in frustration. 

“Locate the dark fairy. We’ll attack him as fast as possible. As long as he’s alive, our people’s safety is at risk”

She covered her mouth with her hand as a gasp was let out. She hears her father’s words, nice and clear. Her heart dropped to the pit of his stomach at the realisation. Her father was the one who sent the arrow. She ran to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. 

Both males in the room jolted at the slam. The king felt unease so he perked his head outside his room. Only the night wind greeted him, causing his shoulder to slump forward. He was being paranoid for nothing. He slowly closed the door behind him.

“What was that, Your Highness?”

“I’m not sure”

“I hope it wasn’t Flora”

This is so cute and heartwarming 🥹🫠🫠

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.