lii. Circles I

The plane shook ever so slightly as it passed through a large, gray cloud. Clutching hard onto the armrests on either side of you, you were convinced you’d never get used to flying. Italy was far enough to warrant you nearly throwing up halfway there. Thailand, though? Thailand might just catch a rare-sighting of a green-faced Song Hyunjoo.

Swallowing down hard, you cleared your throat, feeling all of your breakfast pushing at the base of your tongue. Thanks to the motion sickness patches Hakyeon had bought you at the stopover in Los Angeles, you were able to keep it down without much trouble — though you wished you had put it on earlier. While the swirling, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach was on the verge of disappearing slowly but surely, the equally as unsettling feeling of being seated at the front of the plane would surely haunt you for the rest of your days.

“Was first class really necessary?” 

You leaned over, whispering.

“You ask that like I did this for you.”

Hakyeon answered, eyes gazing on at the night sky from his — preferred — window seat. You had no problem with the aisle, but his attachment to it was a bit unsettling to say the least.

The plane shook a second time.

Your fingers clenched harder around plush leather, “I say that because I’m hoping there’s one less reason to feel like punching you in the face.”

Apparently, your shaking voice, filled with more anxiety than anger, was enough to warrant his attention. His hand on top of yours. His own voice shaking, just slightly, just like the plane you now sat in, as he questioned, “Are you mad at me?” 

You didn’t say anything, feeling the taste of that cinnamon bun you had in California  — that you knew you’d regret — at the back of your tongue. It looked good at the time. It promised to look anything but good when it came back up in the future.

“You’re mad at me,” he deduced, fingers filling the gaps between your own. You squeezed back in reflex, your stomach pains reaching all new heights out of nowhere. Out of seemingly nothing. Out of some nonexistent, existential space — oxymorons aside — Hakyeon himself got angry.

Just slightly.

“You’re mad at me?” 

His offended tone quickly changed however as you doubled over, palming at your stomach with your free hand, pulling his arm close to you, past the boundary that was the armrest, that was your patience for planes, that was your sanity because you must have been insane for ever ending up up here, thousands of miles in the air, with him, like this.

Holding him like a lifeline, letting you move towards him, the armrest lifted up and out of the way, he rubbed circles on your left shoulder.

Churning.

Spinning.

Circles.

And after a moment, he asked, “Why can’t I be mad at you?” 

“There’s something naturally wrong with you,” you mumbled, not bothering to draw up the similarities between yourself and him as you nudged into that inviting space beneath his arm. And it was anything but uncomfortable. 

“You wouldn't be the first one to say that.” He returned your soft lob, throwing the ball back into your court. But you didn’t want it. You didn’t want to acknowledge the way he’d just said his words. Like. “Did I make you feel bad?” Like. “Are you regretting it?” Like. “You’re regretting being mad at me.”

Like he was lonely.

“If you can tell, why do you keep asking?” You mumbled, your stomach settling with each circle you folded into, edges smooth and crisp.

“If I could tell, I wouldn’t be asking,” his chest stuttered against your temple, his laughter quiet when taking the time of day into consideration. When not taking boundaries into consideration, you closed your eyes and let him hold you. 

You indulged him in his loneliness. You wanted to help him somehow. You wanted to understand why he both acted like he had everything and nothing at all in that large palm of his.

Churning. Spinning. Circles.

You said, whispering once more, “I’m not mad at you.”

He had bought your tickets. He had prepared sleeping arrangements at his own home beforehand. He had funded this entire trip without complaint. And, anyway, you had a promise to keep. 

If he wanted first class, then fine.

It was fine.

“Good.”

His reflection in the window was smiling, and you felt like punching it right off his face.

Mainly because you couldn’t find another instance in which you wanted to hurt him.

“But, since you asked, I did it for Ravi. A friend of mine deserves nothing less.”

Especially when he said such heart-warming things without batting an eyelash.

It was all so easy for him.

Upon arriving in Thailand at long last, you struggled to breath. It was hot. Humid. Your clothes stuck to you like you were bathing in your own sweat. Springfield’s “forever winter” temperatures didn’t even begin to compare. Thus, you were thankful when a silver car pulled up to the curb, an older man saying something to Hakyeon you couldn’t be bothered with as you slid into the backseat, cool, chilling leather greeting your bare legs. 

You do remember, however, the laugh Hakyeon gave as he got in after you. 

Like. 

“When we arrive back home, Hakyeon, your parents may be there to greet us.”

Like.

“Is that a problem, Ravi?”

Like.

“I’m only worried Mistress Song may offend without meaning to.”

Hakyeon laughed again, “She’ll be fine.”

“It is rarely the case that someone is fine after greeting your parents, Hakyeon.”

“And Hyunjoo’s a rare case.” Hakyeon tugged at your hand, still in his, “Aren’t you?”

“Is being a rare case a good thing?” You asked, pulling away — feet planted on the ground long enough to have begun repairs on the boundary you’d broken.

“Yes.” 

“Then, yes.”

“See,” Hakyeon pointedly glanced Ravi’s way where he sat in the passenger seat, the driver at his side not saying a word, “her ability to adapt is second-to-none.”

“I see.” Ravi mumbled skeptically.

And Hakyeon threw a smile your way, like he was happy.

As the city rushed by outside the window — his preferred seat — your stomach flipped five times.

You counted.

“You’ve dodged a bullet this time, Mistress Song. Hakyeon's parents are presently away from the house.”

Ravi had said as he carried your bags, because you felt like stopping him from being polite would be an insult to his pride at this point, into the Cha family estate. Two stories of red brick. White painted windows. A stone pathway curving through lush, green shrubbery to the large, cherry wood, front door. Though it wasn’t just the extravagant sights that amazed you.

As you entered, there wasn’t a single person who didn’t greet Hakyeon and Ravi. There were only three housekeepers in total, as Hakyeon pointed out, but it still unnerved you to see them bowing low before you. And once more, you had the sinking feeling that telling them not to, that it wasn’t necessary to welcome you in the same manner they did Hakyeon and Ravi, would break their very realities in two.

Besides, you had to focus on your more immediate reality.

One that had you sitting in the, more comfortable than expected, living room of Hakyeon’s home. Legs together. Hands clenched. A blond beauty sitting across from you.

And Ravi, proving to be quite the fan of idioms, had commented the following before he disappeared up the stairs with a skipping Hakyeon, “Out of the frying pan, into the fryer.” 

His vote of confidence was much appreciated.

If only sarcasm would also prove to work on the silent, golden-haired male in front of you — in hindsight, it wouldn’t.

“So, your name’s Leo?” 

Of course it was. Hakyeon had told you as much. Hakyeon had told you as much before he ditched you, much more confident in your ability to adapt than even you were. Though his personal vote did little to improve the outlook of your future relationship with “Leo.”

“It’s pretty hot here, isn’t it?” 

You felt like banging you head onto the coffee table.

Way to point out the obvious.

“Have you known Hakyeon for a long time?” 

He had to have, as Hakyeon may have been fickle, but he wouldn’t keep someone around him who he hadn’t learnt to trust. Who didn’t “deserve” the title of “friend.” Yet another ice-breaker that had you reeling back in embarrassment. 

You were being awkward when there was no need to be. He didn’t know you. You didn’t know him. He wasn’t even looking at you, meaning it could only go up from here. So, you threw the questions out the window.

Moving forward in your seat, you proposed with a smile, “Let’s play a game.” 

And he was caught.

Pupils dilating. Hands folding onto his black-panted knees. Balls of his feet tapping down onto the carpet floor. He was visibly excited, a stark contrast to the nonchalant indifference he had shown your shame-filled inquiries earlier. 

“The first person who talks, loses.” 

You revealed, a familiar game that had you missing Springfield already. Where the weather was cool and a certain someone thought he was cooler.

“Starting,” you cleared your throat, swallowing down on something thicker than breakfast, “now.”

And it wasn’t long until you caught someone else’s interest with your proposal. 

“You lost before the game even begun, Mistress Song.” 

A voice called out from behind you, distinctively higher in pitch than Ravi’s. Ignoring it for the sake of holding Leo’s gaze, you didn’t turn to it as you heard its owner approaching you with lively steps. Even as you felt two hands press down on your shoulders, you remained unfazed.

“Leo most definitely holds the House record for who can go the longest without saying a single word. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

Leo didn’t answer, staring bullets into your eyes. Not even blinking. Seemingly challenging you to do the same. So, you did, never one to back down.

“No matter how tenacious Hakyeon’s told me you are, I can assure you Leo’s even more so.”

The owner of that voice let go of you, giving you a firm pat on the back for your enthusiasm.

“But just look at you, not giving in in the least. I must admit, I’ve been colored impressed before I even gave you the tools with which to fill me in.” Before you’d even had a chance to display your talents, your worth, you’d proven it by refusing to prove anything. To submit to anything. To give up anything, including the game you’d now engaged in with the House favorite. “My name is Hongbin, and it’s a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a charming young girl as yourself, my mistress.”

“Hyunjoo, I have a gift for you!” Hakyeon’s voice sang out from afar. Your head reflexively nudged itself in the direction it came from. Luckily, you managed to keep your gaze straight at the last second, still determined to best the quieter-than-a-kitchen-mouse Leo — despite the volumes his name spoke alone.

Unluckily, as Hakyeon came into view, Ravi trailing cautiously behind him, the item dangling from between his fingers had you doing a double-take. You perked up, your body orienting itself towards him instinctively as you gazed on at it, a snarky, “About time,” leaving your lips. 

It was the tiniest sarcastic comment that had Leo leaning back in his seat, declaring with a clear voice, “I win.”

Hongbin’s hands were on your shoulders again as he doubled over, laughing boisterously, filling the silence with the sound as you sat there, jaw hanging open. Left stunned by how easy it was for Hakyeon and his stupidly punchable grin to draw words from you. From no desire to speak whatsoever, he’d managed to pull from you the most natural ones of all: haughty criticism in the face of his carefree demeanor. 

Hakyeon’s eyes widened, “Were you two playing a game? Look at you, playing nicer than I could have ever expected.” Hakyeon’s tanned arms wrapped around Leo’s frame from behind, the latter molding into his touch like a cat begging for more. You could only watch on in detest, shuddering at the fact that you’d done the same thing not even twenty-four hours ago.

Just, melted. 

Melted into nothing as Hakyeon held you between two happily lonely hands.

“Though Hyunjoo lost, as anyone could've predicted, I believe she still deserves the prize you offered just moments ago, Hakyeon.” Hongbin reminded him, causing you to glance back and finally lock eyes with him. And for some reason, he looked just like he sounded. 

Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Playing this game better than anyone.

“Yes,” Hakyeon suddenly remembers, making his way towards you once more, “yes, of course.” Taking both a seat and a hold of your right hand, he placed the Wolfsbane necklace, the same one you'd acquired from Tablo half a year ago, down into your palm, the silver cool to the touch, “But only if you promise me one thing.”

Both salty and sour over having lost to Leo, you replied with a snarky, “It was never yours to give to begin with, so I don’t see why I have to promise anything to have it back.”

“A fair point.” Hakyeon nodded, sitting contently at your side, not a single word more leaving him.

Making you say something first, “Fine. What is it?”

But it wasn't. It wasn't fine. And it certainly wasn't good.

Retracting his hand back, leaving the necklace in your care once more, he said words that made you more than just miss Springfield. That made you ache for it.

“Wear it tomorrow tonight.”

It was all so easy for him.

As Ravi escorted you to your room not even moments after you’d said, “Yes,” he fired yet another shot aimed directly at your confidence, “I don’t believe there’s a phrase for exactly how deep a hole you’ve dug yourself into, Mistress Song.”

It was all so easy for Hakyeon to lead you to what would undoubtedly be your demise.

With a smile so wide it was getting harder to pull punches.

A/N: I predict 3 to 4 more chapters for this Thailand arc! So, no worries, we'll see our boys soon! In the meantime, enjoy more boys! Yay, boys! Also, enjoy this story that I've started recently! Yay, stories! And boys!

Mostly boys!

Click on the blue links below to go to each respective forum.

Springfield/Illusory Discussion Forum Series: The Mysteries Involved, Sailing Ships, Solving the Love Polygon, & Help!