lvii. The Good Old Days

He wrapped his fingers around either armrest, velvet-colored fabric squeaking under his grip. It had been a long while since his father had requested to meet with him. Considering the events that preceded this moment, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Hakyeon wasn’t sure exactly when he’d grown so fearful of the chair he now sat in.

The one he’d once adored so much he’d grow jealous if his "older brother" even dared to lay eyes upon it. 

“So the girl your mother both detests to have near her and wants to be your future-wife left without greeting me.” Hakyeon’s father laughed, much to Hakyeon’s displeasure.

He couldn’t remember the last time his father smiled, let alone laughed. Even birthdays and holidays failed to bring out the rare expression. Yet, thinking of the ever-elusive Song Hyunjoo had him giggling like a schoolboy.

“An outsider would think you like her more than your own flesh and blood.” Hakyeon shot back, rebellious to a fault when it came to his father. Granting his mother more fealty than she deserved. Publicly siding with the parent he physically resembled the most. Privately wanting to talk to his father about what you called his “feelings.”

Whatever those were.

Unable to see through his facade as usual, too used to it to not know it wasn’t real at all, Hakyeon’s father laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure you did everything you could to make her stay, son.” And perhaps even Cha Hyunsoo didn’t know what “feelings” were as he pushed Hakyeon into a corner once more, “But don't force it. I’d rather not get anyone else involved in the mess we’ve made for ourselves. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Yes,” Hakyeon replied, even though he didn’t.

He didn’t agree at all with being dragged down on the sinking ship that was his family’s alliance with the man that walked in then. 

Hair dyed a blinding neon red, body big and burly, with a gruff voice that still smelt of sugar-coated treats. 

That didn’t fail to condescend the minute he caught sight of Hakyeon.

“The little pup lost his fated mate, did he?”

Hakyeon hated this man. This human man who believed that silence was the same as coalescence. This human who thought that just because he had a room in first class, they wouldn’t retaliate if he attempted to put a hole in their hull. He hated him with every fiber of his supernatural being.

“What if I helped you get her back, tiny thing?” 

Though to say Hakyeon wasn’t intrigued by the idea his feeble mind constructed would be a lie.

Standing up from the chair he’d been bound to since birth, Hakyeon decided to take action where his father — shackled by his responsibility to a family not worth saving — would not, “Tell me more.” 

You arrived at the airport at five in the morning. Sluggish as you dragged your feet across the polished tile of the terminal, it was hard to avoid thinking about who was waiting for you a mere two hours away. The daily antics and ridiculous situations you had exchanged for over three days full of serious contemplation and stiff parties left you regretful you ever left in the first place. On the other hand, Cha Hakyeon had needed you.

And you, in turn, needed the revelation he gave you the opportunity to discover.

Thus, there were no hard feelings as he, Ravi, Leo, Hongbin, Ken, and Hyuk bid you goodbye. Though you had a feeling it was anything but. Even though, what mattered now was willing the baggage claim to go faster with your mind as you shifted your weight from your left heel to your right.

While you couldn’t wait to see your friends again, it seems they themselves couldn’t hold off on committing their daily doses of ridiculous until you returned.

It was Kyung, in particular, who you found in a rather compromising position upon waltzing in the open door to Zico’s pack’s home — on the way into town from the airport. You were out of breath and so was he, for different reasons. You because, upon having the door open with a single twist of the knob, you couldn’t help but worry if something had happened. He because something had happened. 

Or rather someone, apparently. 

“Admittedly not my best moment.” Kyung managed a laugh as he caught sight of you, half-choking from the weight of the person currently crushing his ribcage.

“I don’t know,” said someone, the easily excitable, traitor to her hunter brethren, Sunhwa, said with a smile, “I kind of like how you look underneath me.”

What exactly was she referring to? To the way she straddled Kyung on the sofa, effectively tainting a place you’d slept on numerous times in the past. Disgusted by that rather than the act of Romeo and Juliet-esque form of affection currently assaulting your eyes, you opened your mouth to ask the most obvious of questions. You opened it only to close it and cringe at the following sentence Kyung spoke up to his attacker.

Not minding playing the victim, his smile spread from ear to ear as he whispered, “Flirt with me any more and I might just take you up on that offer.”

“Nope. I’m gone.” You refused to be objected to their affair any longer as you pivoted on your heel, heading straight for the stairs. “Nope. No. La. La. La. I can't hear you.” You chanted each time Kyung called after you, Sunhwa’s flirty cackling that echoed it causing unpleasant shivers to go up and down your spine.

As if it weren’t traumatic enough witnessing a boy, whose relationship with you was as comfortable and argument-ridden as siblings, wooing an equally as interesting person of the opposite , the laundry crate that came tumbling down the stairs as soon as you put your foot on the first step threatened to scare the life right out of you. The occupant of the now flipped over train to hell moaned out as he flipped over, blond hair a static mess. Eagle-like eyes awake despite the time of day, Woo Jiho laughed at the sight of you holding onto the railings for dear life — having dodged him at the last second. 

“Well that went about as well as expected,” a familiar female’s voice, sounding even more rough with sleep, mimicked his hysteria. 

Looking up from where you hugged the very edge of the stairs, you found Jeon Hyosung: ex-hunter leader and all around the most attractive woman you’d met behind Tiffany. Waving lackidazically at you where she perched herself, you opened your mouth to speak again. It opened and closed in an instant as you felt Zico tug at the hem of your jeans.

Grinning like the madman he was at seven in the morning, laying beneath a broken laundry basket, he sung out, “Welcome back, sweetheart.” 

And when he promptly asked you if you’d like to try U-kwon’s newest idea of fun, you were more than just a bit tempted to say yes.

You didn’t.

But temptation was a beast rarely won against twice.

Thankfully, B-bomb was there to save the day. Providing an explanation where one was duly needed, he sat you down in the kitchen and told you everything. How things had been normal besides the everyday scouting trips through the woods. How Hyosung, Sunhwa, Zinger, and Jieun, previously their mortal enemies, had taken an interest in Zico, Kyung, Taeil, and Jaehyo respectively. 

Kyung’s natural attraction to impuslivity led him to Sunhwa. Taeil’s logic-focused mind found its match with Zinger’s calculative own. Jaehyo always fell for the pretty-faced, man-eater types like Jieun. And Zico? Well, when Kyung was too busy to do something stupid, Hyosung was always there to lend a hand in whatever hair-brained scheme Zico came up with next. Whether that meant he liked her or not was another issue entirely, B-bomb had added as a sidenote.

Not that you’d asked for clarification on the matter.

“It’s all starting to get on my nerves, to be honest.” B-bomb sighed. 

Pointing to the duo of Jieun and Jaehyo in the living room, sharing breakfast together as they practically sat on top of each other, B-bomb sighed again. 

“Like that, for example.”

“I’m getting second-hand embarrassment just watching.” You sunk down onto the kitchen table, wanting to dig a hole and lie in it until all the hormone-fueled romance blew over.

“Now you know how I’ve felt since you left.”

“About that,” you began as you turned to him, deciding to tell him, the least distracted of them all, first. The expression he gave you as he locked eyes with yours had you swallowing down, “Okay, don’t start giving me that look! You haven’t even heard what I’m about to say yet!”

B-bomb stared on at you, too irritated to deal with whatever front you were attempting to put up, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but you’re easier to understand than the woman who lists off side-effects at the end of an infomercial. As soon as you start talking fast, I know what I’m hearing is anything but good.”

“That’s a new one!” You clapped, impressed by the new metaphor to describe your obvious nature.

“It’s not something to cheer about.” He scolded, not at all impressed by your lack of tact.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to ask if he’d found a girl of his own?

“A pool party?” Jaehyo questioned, mouth wide and gaping as he yawned, arms stretching up and outwards, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Hyunjoo, but we don’t have a pool.”

Considering he’d just woken up, U-kwon didn’t appreciate having Jaehyo’s forearm in his face. Pulling off Einstein’s signature look while in a pair of Godzilla pajama shorts and a Spongebob tank — paradoxically managing to be both cool and uncool with ease as usual — U-kwon mumbled tiredly, nose-scrunching upwards, “Did you shower yesterday? You smell like moldy pizza.”

“The real question is: why do you know what moldy pizza smells like?” Jaehyo shot back. 

“Is not.” U-kwon attempted, and failed, to send a glare Jaehyo’s way. Without warning, his still crusted over eyelids drooped downwards, his chin almost impacting against his chest as he jerked awake. Thankfully, his brief, one-second nap plus your next words had him forgetting Jaehyo’s annoyingly sarcastic self for the moment.

“We don’t need a pool.” You spoke loudly in order to keep U-kwon’s continuously dwindling attention-span — though not loud enough to not hear Jaehyo’s childish retort of “Is to.”

Kyung, not wanting U-kwon to start asking more questions than he was ready to answer about exactly who didn’t take a shower last night, interjected with a laugh, “Is this an excuse to whip out a bikini and finally show us some of that skin of yours?”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your own arms up into the air, “Because I’ve been trying to seduce you guys with my y, womanly wiles since day one.”

“I have to admit, the word ‘y’ isn’t the one that comes to mind first.” U-kwon commented with a frown, the word “bikini” bringing him down from the clouds with more force than he’d like to admit.

Put off and thoroughly caught up in their pace, you kept the urge to slap him back up where he’d fallen from. It was difficult to resist, but you managed it with a smile, “I would love to hear what word you’re thinking of, U-kwon.”

“You got something to say, Pyo Jihoon?” Jiyeon asked tiredly, head on his shoulder as her eyelashes batted slowly down onto dilated pupils. 

“I do.” P.O gulped down, Adam’s apple bobbing thickly, “I definitely do.”

“Please take whatever the two of you are thinking about to the grave.” Taeil gagged, his entire body shivering as he attempted to physically shake off the lovey-dovey hearts they were practically spewing everywhere. 

You sighed as you slid down in your seat, chin to chest and not embarrassed in the least. Their sleepy postures and gestures, not to mention the big yawn U-kwon just tossed your way, were starting to rub off on you. “Now we’re just getting off topic.”

“Then bring us back.” B-bomb tugged you upwards by your ponytail, a painful groan leaving you, “Tell them what you told me.”

Once a party-pooper, always the enemy of sleep. 

Though, if it wasn’t for B-bomb, nothing would ever get done around here.

Clearing your throat, you provided the specifics regarding the pool-lacking pool party you wanted to throw, “I’m sure you’ve all heard about Springfield’s infamous lake.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Zico bounced up from his seat, a newfound boost of energy pumping through his veins — not seen in his previously slumped over, mouth open, eyes closed, position on the corner of the couch — as he lapped around the coffee table twice. Twice, before stopping right in front of you, pointing, and shouting, “Bring the bikini and I’m in!”

“I didn’t know you liked those kinds of things, Zico.” You played along, not knowing what it felt like to play at all recently. “I’ll try to find one in your size.”

Zico laughed boisterously, shaking his waist as he exclaimed, “I’m slimmer than I look, darlin’.”

Cringing on the other side of the room, Kyung muttered beneath his breath, “Not sure if I’m looking forward to this as much as I was a minute ago.”

And as each one of them smiled you way, you — without a doubt — couldn’t have been more glad to be back.

Work before play, as the old saying goes. The pool party was set for tomorrow, leaving you today to get settled in at home. It was still early and you should have been tired. You should have been jet-lagged to the point where standing in front of the tempting surface that was your bed should have been impossible. But, you persevered.

You pulled through thanks to sheer adrenaline.

Pure excitement for not only a dip in what was surely ice-cold water, but also Sunggyu’s promise to bring the grill along. Food and friends: the best kind of combination. A distracted mind and a sudden visit from distractor number one: a close-second for the worst kind of surprise.

Behind walking in on Kyung and his soon-to-be girlfriend, of course.

You were unpacking your suitcase when he sauntered in, two knocks on your bedroom door signaling his arrival. As you turned, you briefly wondered what possessed your mother to let him in without saying a single word.

“Myungsoo,” you called out in surprise, swallowing your spit, clearing your mouth of any and all possible stammer-inducing objects, before continuing, “long time, no alone face-to-face see.” 

He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked, as he tossed your words around in his mind; your obviously unprepared greeting coming out awkward and generally awful. Who told him to show up and surprise you like this though? What more did he expect but awkward awfulness?

“You know what I mean,” you dismissed his judging eyes, turning away before he had something else to judge you for — namely the act of staring if you weren’t careful enough.

“Should I be disappointed that I do?” You heard him ask, only to hear his feet slowly approaching you from behind. Only to anxiously await what he came all the way to your house to say in the first place as the floorboards creaked under his weight with each step.

You faked a laugh, looking down and to your right for you laundry basket to deposit all of your clothes into. It wasn’t there, causing you to pivot slightly, looking over your shoulder to find anything but the white, plastic bin. Instead, there was Myungsoo. Kim Myungsoo who you almost head-butted as he moved past you, his foot reaching out and kicking the basket towards you from its place at the foot of your bed. 

“Thanks,” you threw him a smile before dumping your clothes in, at a loss of how to continue the conversation from here. Mostly because one of your flashy, neon-colored bras was practically yelling “Pay attention to me!” as it laid atop the pile of soiled clothing. You cleared your throat for the second time, striping your thin cardigan off of your shoulders and laying it on top. 

Hoping he didn’t see it, though he probably did. 

However, you knew he would never say a word about it if you didn’t bring it up, so you decided to pretend yourself out of your hole of embarrassment.

“So, what did you want with little ol’ me?” You questioned, closing your now emptied suitcase. 

“You went to Thailand, right?” 

He asked back, and even though you weren’t attempting to hide it in the least, you still didn’t expect him to figure it out that quickly. On the other hand, he still wasn’t bringing up the less-than-approachable topic that was his brother. So that meant he wasn’t exactly ready to acknowledge that part yet. 

If he even knew at all.

No. Scratch that. He definitely knew. He’s Kim Myungsoo. He knows. 

“Sure did.”

“How was the food?”

An odd question. The kind you ask someone you barely know. The kind that buys time, but has the ability to make anybody and everybody cringe at its lack of personal interest. The kind that made you wonder what he was getting at by asking it, because Myungsoo never just comes to see you — save the one time. 

Come to think of it, that black leather jacket was still hanging in your closet at this very moment. 

“Healthy,” you chirped, not giving away a single ounce of your suspicions towards him. 

“Did you miss Canada’s ‘Continental Breakfast’?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Let’s go get something then.”

You did a double-take back at him as you replayed his words in your head. You had to have heard wrong. But, judging from his unfaltering expression, he certainly wasn’t joking. He just offered to go out and eat with you. You blinked twice. Once because you stared so long at him your vision started to blur. Twice because there was no way this was real. Maybe he wasn’t Kim Myungsoo after all.

“But first,” he held out his hand, palm up, eyes shining expectantly, “my hat.”

“What?” You blurted back, dumbfounded. 

“My hat,” he asserted like a child asking for candy twice. Not just once, but twice. Once because he wanted it. Twice because he still wanted it. “You got me one, didn’t you?”

“Well,” you chanced a glance at your suitcase, spotting the folded, pink gift bag, answering him mindlessly, “yeah.”

He shook his palm, flexing his fingers, itching to have it as though he had been waiting for it. As though he had read the thoughts you didn’t even know whether you would act on or not and predicted that you would indeed decide to buy him something while in Thailand, he had ruined the surprise. 

Though you couldn’t help but be thankful he had.

This way, you didn’t have to figure out a way to give it to him.

This way, he made it easy for you.

Gulping down, you handed the pink bag to him cautiously. His first reaction was the usual absence of any and all expression as he pulled the thick, ash gray fabric from its gift wrap. Flipping it from one hand to the next, one side and then the other, he examined it carefully. And before you could even open your mouth to ask if he liked it, he slipped it over his head in one swift movement.

You stared on as he pivoted on his foot, fixing his bangs in the mirror above your dresser before walking away. As he descended the stairs, he yelled back at your motionless form, “Pancakes or French Toast?”

Following him immediately, you replied with, “Waffles!” 

A/N: So, I don't know if you all noticed, but another one of my stories, The Seeress of Exo, got featured recently! I know some of you here read it, being the lovely readers that you are, and I can't thank you enough. Thus, allow me to say it again: Thank you! Despite this wonderful news, I'm going to be focusing on this story for a bit (around a week's time). Why? Those who pay attention to the chat know why! Six more to go!

Block B & Infinite came back at the same time.
I love Infinite and this release feels like a flashback to the
glorious Be Mine days. But but but, Block B's Her is so good.
I want both of them to win. I'm conflicted and it hurts.

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!