[title songs: faded - alan walker // stay with me (ft chanyeol) - punch]
[11,102w]

five.

Sehun falls into step beside Jessica as they leave their morning lecture together and she can feel his eyes boring into the side of her head.

“So.” He says, his voice soft though there’s an edge to it that makes her accidentally glance over at him anyway, just to see his expression. He looks irritated, though his eyes are soft when he looks at her. Her eyes drift to his long, pale neck, where there’s a purplish-red mark blooming right where his pulse would be, before she quickly glances back up at his eyes. Sehun looks sheepish for a moment and she doesn’t comment when he adjusts his jean jacket’s collar so the mark is hidden from view, as if it was never there.

“So.” She repeats, rolling her eyes a little when he snorts, his expression twisting into a small smile.

Sehun just shrugs though, bumping his shoulder against hers as they walk which makes her smile, too. “I was thinking.” Sehun trails off, pouting slightly as he tries to think of exactly what he wants to say.

“Ah, thinking, huh? That’s an impressive feat for you.” Jessica quips, which earns her a little glare from Sehun as he crosses his arms.

“If you’re going to be rude, I guess you don’t want to go to dinner with me tonight, then.” Sehun responds, narrowing his eyes at her. He waves a hand and starts walking ahead, leaving Jessica standing there for a moment before she quickly follows after him, catching up. It takes two steps just to match one of his long strides.

“But I like food.” Jessica pouts, grinning slightly because Sehun’s ears turn red at the sight. Sehun just nods, though, resolving to look at everything but her.

“I know. Especially free food.” Sehun says, dismissively, “But you’re being so rude, so never mind.”

Jessica yanks at his elbow, “Sehun.”

She shakes his arm and he just turns his nose up at her, walking along while she glares holes into the side of his head. Sehun sighs, dramatically, “Of course, I’d change my mind if you make it up to me somehow.”

This time, it’s her turn to laugh. Then she realizes he’s being serious and Jessica’s pout deepens. “I’m not apologizing.”

“There are other ways to make it up to someone.” Sehun tells her, matter-of-factly. She watches as he raises his fingers, listing off different ways with his fingers as he looks down at her. “Like cooking me a meal. Cleaning my room. Actually listening to me for once in your damn life.” Then he glances down at her and gives her a sly little look, all raised brows and lopsided smirk. His look makes her cheeks warm up inexplicably, “Or maybe even a little hand wi—”

“Okay.” Jessica interrupts his words then because she catches the sly glint in his eyes and she doesn’t want or care to hear what he’s about to say, especially this early in the morning. She rolls her eyes at him, “It’s like ten in the morning, you ert.” She tells him, pointedly.

“What?” He blinks at her, mockingly innocent. “I was just going to ask you to give me a hand with cleaning my car.”

She gives him a look and he just catches her gaze, grinning.

“Fine. Let’s just say you owe me one.” Sehun tells her, reaching down to pat her head. Jessica’s glare deepens significantly because his tone is filled with amusement and something else she can’t quite place, something that’s making it awfully difficult to look him in the eye without feeling warm.

~.~.~.~.~

The next morning, Donghyuk flips through his textbook as he leans against the wall, across from where Jessica is leaning back. “Ugh.” Donghyuk grumbles, drawing out the word for a good five seconds.

Jessica blinks the sleep from her eyes, internally groaning at Sehun for being late with her coffee while simultaneously wondering how the hell Donghyuk can function this early in the morning for the fourteenth time in the last fifteen minutes.

Donghyuk stomps his feet and groans louder, “I said ughhhhh.”

Jessica humors him, lip twitching, “What is it?”

Donghyuk waves his textbook, nearly dropping it on his toes in the process. She watches him fumble and blush brighter than a tomato, in sleepy amusement. He sighs, though, so dramatically that she can’t help but smile anyway, “I hate classical lit so much, like, who cares about Helen of Troy and the stupid wooden horse. I mean how do you even scam someone with a gigantic wooden horse in the first place?”

Before Jessica can think of a response, there’s a soft cough from behind her and she jumps, spinning on her heels. Sehun smiles—grimaces really—and she does the same back, instantly reaching for the cup of coffee in his hands and taking a huge gulp, sighing softly at the instant caffeine boost, “You’re late.” She mumbles, eyeing him up and down. He’s wrapped up in a fluffy looking sweater, deep grey and entirely too familiar looking, and an even fluffier scarf. She raises a brow at him, smiling slightly in judgement, “Cold?”

Sehun grunts, snatching his coffee back from her, “Yes, shut up.”

His eyes slide over her face for a moment and it should be awkward, she thinks, how long they look at each other, their eyes locking for much longer than is considered socially acceptable. It makes her feel warm all over and she can’t look away, in fact, he’s the one to break eye contact first, glancing over her shoulder before his grimace-smile only deepens, much more grimace than smile this time.

“Hey.” He says, in a bland voice, brows knitting together as if he can’t believe Donghyuk is there.

(Sehun looks at Donghyuk like that every time and Jessica’s just learned to get used it. Donghyuk never notices anyway.)

Jessica peers over her shoulder and she’s honestly surprised at how oblivious Donghyuk seems to be when it comes to Sehun's (and her) lack of enthusiasm. Donghyuk just beams, “Hi, hyung.” It’s quiet between the three of them for a moment before Donghyuk speaks up again, waving his textbook at Sehun this time, “Do you know about the story of Helen of Troy?”

Sehun blinks and Jessica notices the surprise clouding his eyes, perhaps because Donghyuk is actually speaking directly to Sehun, this time around. “Yeah, I’m a Lit minor.” Sehun frowns. “Why?”

Donghyuk grins and Jessica smiles at the way his eyes light up, twinkling. “Then can you help me with this paper I’m supposed to hand in next week? Please?”

Sehun’s frown only deepens, instant regret flooding his expression. “Uh, sure.”

“Thanks! Thank you! Jess can give you my number, I gotta go now though, thank you!” The words spill out of his lips in a rush and Jessica laughs, making Sehun glance sideways at her, his lip twitching again.

Donghyuk bows while scurrying backwards before he turns on his heels and disappears around the corner.

“He’s a weird kid.” Sehun mumbles, scrunching up his nose.

“He’s adorable.” Jessica tells him, reaching for the cup of coffee in Sehun’s hand again.

Sehun pulls the coffee away from her reach and narrows his eyes at her, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, it’s great.”

Jessica watches, in half-amusement and half-confusion, as Sehun’s expression grows pinched, his eyes narrowing. Then he mumbles something indecipherable under his breath and turns on his heels, striding into their classroom without letting her take the coffee from him.

He doesn’t give her his coffee no matter how many times she reaches for it, finally finishing it off with a pointed look in her direction and a huff of annoyance, before he sits back and doesn’t take his eyes off the professor for the rest of class.

(If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous or something, but that thought alone makes her cheeks heat up so she ignores it completely.)

~.~.~.~.~

Two days later, Jessica feels like there’s an itch under her skin that she can’t quite scratch. It gets worse whenever she thinks about her jobs or her best friends or Sehun and Jongin or anything really. Sehun’s busy with some kind of programming project he won’t tell her about. And Jongin—well, he’s clearly been avoiding her and she wants to do something about it, but she’s stuck overseeing a drug trade that’s all EXO and no LILAC. LILAC’s not even profiting off it and Jessica figures the only reason she ended up overseeing all this in the first place is because Kris has a penchant for toeing the line and Sooyong had asked Jessica to keep an eye out, just in case.

Jessica is bored out of her mind and itching to do something, to smack answers out of Jongin, to do anything but watch Yixing and his henchmen concoct some kind of new illicit drug for hours on end. She thinks he looks like a mad scientist, black hair sticking out in all kinds of directions and goggles pressed firmly to his face, if a mad scientist wore a red trench coat, black Adidas joggers, brown sandals, and a stack of glinting rings scattered along his fingers. She’s pretty sure her chemistry lab professor would have an aneurysm at the sight of Yixing’s gloveless hands, exposed toes, and lab coat-less body, especially while he tips the contents of a test tube into a beaker placed over the burner. At least he has goggles on, she figures that's enough safety for a meth lab.

Jessica yawns, for the sixteenth time, and Yixing doesn’t even turn away from his project, voice soft but firm, “Stop yawning, it’s distracting.”

Jessica glares and yawns on purpose this time. Yixing just narrows his eyes, steady hands tipping the contents of a test tube into his beaker.

Yixing swirls the contents of two beakers carefully when he finally speaks, “I never asked if you were all right.”

“Huh?” Jessica blinks, looking up from fiddling with her phone.

“That incident with Moon Jongup.” Yixing clarifies as he hands off a beaker with pink smoke pluming nonstop to one of his men, a familiar looking guy with neon yellow sweatshirt on. “Are you okay?”

“Oh.” She nods, holding out the word for a couple seconds. She pauses before she adds, “Oh, I’m fine.”

Yixing just gives her a ridiculously polite smile, lips forming a tight line. There’s a flicker of a smile there, if Jessica looks real close. It's clear he doesn't believe her, even when says,“That’s good. You should take care of yourself.”

Jessica nods, frowning when Yixing takes a sip of the smoking beaker as if it’s a cup of afternoon tea, nonchalant and blank-faced as ever. “Should you really be doing that?” Jessica asks, forcing herself to stay seated.

“Oh, I’m fine.” Yixing tells her but, judging by the way he looks at her, Jessica has a feeling he’s just twisting her own words back at her and she crosses her arms, frown only deepening.

Jessica thinks Yixing is an anomaly, quiet and observant, and she thinks the way he interacts with people, with silent gestures and minuscule movements is so incredibly fascinating. But he's too insightful and it unnerves her.

“I spoke to Moon Jongup before. Quite a few times, really.” Yixing mumbles as he pulls off his gloves, the guy in the neon yellow sweatshirt carrying the concoction elsewhere. He runs a hand through his dark hair as he leans back against the counter and stares at the wall, at nothing in particular really, Jessica’s eyes pinned on him. “The first time was after he broke Baekhyun’s ribs. No one was really expecting that.” There’s another tilt to his lips, tiny, barely perceptible. “Moon Jongup was a scary one. I’ve never seen anyone break so many bones without a weapon. Baekhyun was on edge for months after that. He was so whiny, too. ”

Then Yixing’s smile drops, disappearing almost as quickly as it came. If Jessica hadn’t been looking, she doesn’t think she would have ever noticed it in the first place, the loss of his small smile. “Every other time was when I was being held hostage. I never knew exactly how much he liked to talk until those few weeks, years after we became…acquaintances.”

Jessica shudders at his tone, even as Yixing remains completely blank faced.

“What I’m trying to say is that, in the few times I’ve gotten to know Moon Jongup, I learned quite a bit about him. They say one can learn a lot about a person when they’re living with them—or should I say: being forcefully kept hostage for a long period of time by them?” Yixing’s laugh is dry; his smile empty, a carcass of what Jessica believes it once was. Perhaps his smiles used to be more beautiful, more hopeful, but all she sees is emptiness and a pitiful attempt, one both she and Yixing are both aware of. “He’s very precise and thorough. He doesn’t let his prey escape unscathed.” Yixing really looks at her then, eyes drifting away from the wall only to hover over her, gaze skeptic and reminding her eerily of Jongin when she had first met him, “You should have been killed.”

Jessica sighs, loudly, “I’m aware.”

Yixing chuckles and it actually sounds amused this time around, “Why didn’t he kill you, then?”

Jessica huffs then, because she’s been asking herself this question ever since it happened and it’s annoying hearing it even now, “Why didn’t you die when Yongguk had you?” Jessica asks, a little vindictively.

“Because I escaped.” Yixing says, simply, raising a delicate brow.

“Exactly.” Jessica crosses her arms.

Yixing just tilts his head, still staring at her, his gaze inquisitive but soft. The softness is never really there, especially when he’s looking at her, he’s always been a sort of blank slate, careful and cautious and careful once more. It’s soft in an empathetic sort of way, she realizes, especially after he says, “They’re up to something, you know.”

“I know.”

Yixing smiles again, that same empty little thing, “My only advice is that you don’t let this—them—get into your head. That’s what he did best.” Yixing just sighs and Jessica hates how factual his tone is, like he’s reading out of a boring old math textbook, “If you don't believe me, ask Mina.”

~.~.~.~.~

Jessica loads her gun in a methodical sort of way, one at a time, click click click, before she brings it to eye level, aiming carefully at the empty beer cans set up in a straight line, along a few stumps in a clearing away from the city. She presses the trigger just as methodically, relishing in the kickback, the click click click, followed by the bangs, three of the beer cans shooting up into the air and disappearing into the tree line.

There’s a crunch, a snap of a twig, and Jessica instantly turns on her heels, gun still cocked in her hands.

“Woah.” Sehun mutters, though there’s a funny little smile playing on his lips, “Watch where you point that thing.”

Jessica drops her arms, clipping on the safety before she lifts her shirt and secures her gun in its holster at her waist. “Did anyone ever tell you that you at sneaking up on people?”

“No, no one’s as mean to me as you are.” Sehun shrugs. Jessica smiles and Sehun smiles, too, a warm, soft tilt to his lips that inexplicably makes her heart beat faster. Jessica watches as Sehun peers at the empty beer cans she had shot at, her eyes lingering on the side of his face, the sharpness to his cheeks and nose, the hollowness there which could only mean he hasn’t been eating properly. He’s probably been too engrossed with his computer programs to bother eating, which only makes her frown. It startles her, though, when she sees a similar frown gracing his features, as well, his eyes still pinned on the makeshift targets a hundred meters or so away from them. “So, is this what you’ve been doing all day instead of picking up your phone?”

Jessica just shrugs, “I didn’t feel like going to class.”

Sehun nods, as if to say fair enough, but he continues staring at her makeshift targets with a thin frown.

Finally, he says, “Did you drink all of those?”

Jessica glances away, when he looks at her and she realizes she’s been staring at him for much too long. She can feel his eyes on her, as if they can pierce through her skull and pick out the answer from her brain without the help of . She grimaces. “It’d be a waste otherwise.” Jessica hears Sehun groan at her words, and she can’t help but add a quick, conceding, “I only drank a few of them, though. I'm fine.”

Sehun keeps staring at her, as if he already knows what the truths and lies are behind her words, but he’s waiting for her to slip up first. But she isn’t lying, she only drank a little, which had surprisingly steadied her shaking fingers better than she would have ever thought it would, being just a bit buzzed and all.

She’s not stumbling or slurring though and that must be good enough for him because he just sighs and nods as he crouches and grabs her backpack off the ground, brushing off the dead leaves and dirt before swinging it over his shoulder.

She doesn’t want to think about it, the way his sighs, long and drawn out, burrows itself deep in her chest, clawing at the hole it’s made there all those other times, whispering of how she’s such a burden to him—to them—while she pretends like she can’t hear it. She doesn’t want to dwell on it, but she is a little buzzed, coming down from being tipsy-bordering-on-drunk all day, and she can’t seem to figure out a way to handle her emotions.

She stares at her backpack, the way it’s hanging off his shoulder, and she holds out an arm, “You don’t need to do that.” Her voice doesn’t sound like hers, it soft and wavering and she hates it.

Sehun gives her a look, one that makes her feel a little warm, a little too exposed, but he still nods, placing the backpack in her hand. He watches, with thoughtful eyes, as she swings the backpack over her shoulders, pointedly not meeting his eyes.

Then Sehun starts walking, his shoulder nearly brushing against hers, never quite touching but there. She doesn’t know why she feels goosebumps spread down her arms and chills jabbing along her spine, especially when he grabs at her elbow and helps her down the rocky hill that leads down to the main road at the edge of the forest.

She shakes her elbow out of his grip and pushes forward, easily jogging down the steep hill, Sehun quickly following behind, although he has his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pocket while he does so, making the action look incredibly graceful, even when he nearly skids onto his near the end.

She snickers at him and he scowls playfully at her, frown long forgotten.

There's a pause as she glances up and down the road.

“Did you walk here?” He asks and there’s a disapproving edge to his tone.

She rolls her eyes at his tone, stepping onto the side of the road and leaving him behind instead of answering.

Sehun catches up, though, his footsteps crunching along gravel, fast and loud, before his long strides match hers, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. He shivers and only then does she notice just how warm she is.

She pauses, worries her bottom lip for a moment because she doesn’t want him to freeze to death trying to keep an eye out for her, like he always does.

“We can take a walk.” He says, suddenly, and she finally looks up to meet his eyes. They sparkle a little in the evening sun, curved and soft and watchful, eyeing her as if he’s amused with her. She thinks she sees awe there, fondness, but she quickly writes that off as absolutely inexplicable wishful thinking. Inexplicabe because why would she wish it? Why would she care? “If you want.”

She stops walking, spins in her spot and looks him dead in the eye. She thinks it’s freeing, in a way, because she hasn’t looked him dead in the eye in a while and it feels just like the times she’s alone in her dorm in the middle of the night and staring at her own reflection. It feels like the times she’s taken it upon herself to look her demons in the eye, consult them, insult them, only to end up worse off than how she began.

He still has his hands stuffed deep within his pockets, his breath coming out in little puffs of white, dissipating into the cold evening almost instantly. Her eyes zero in on the details. The sun is beginning to set, she notices. His hooded sweatshirt has a little tear at the collar, visible from beneath his black trench coat. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, hidden by the shadows casting over his face because of the setting sun. She still sees the black circles under his eyes. She’s warm, but her fingers are shaking. She can’t feel it, though, at least not until she looks directly at her hands. The road stretches on and on and she wonders why there aren’t any cars—but then maybe the rest of the world is on to something, because this road leads back into SM Town and who would want to come here? The yellow paint along the median is peeling and fading, disappearing completely, and she stares at it, at the crumbling road out of town and then at the fading purple mark peeking out from just under the collar of Sehun’s sweatshirt and jacket. There’s a little scar on his cheek, the same one she’s always been meaning to ask about.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” She asks, suddenly, her eyes locking with his.

She expects him to frown, but instead he smiles, a tiny tilt of a thing that makes her heart flutter for a moment before she tears her eyes off of his lips, frowning at herself because why. Why? “Jongin asks me about this all the time, too.” Sehun explains, without her ever asking for an explanation. “It’s funny, really. I’ve never thought about it, but clearly you both have—are.”

“Why not?” Jessica asks, because it’s strange really. Everyone she knows wants to leave SM Town, even the many unfortunate students attending SM University who aren’t a part of a syndicate. This town is no place to live; it never was and it never will be.

Sehun just shrugs, a smile still gracing his lips. She copies his gesture, sighing softly, and he does it again, more exaggerated this time, his smile widening. She can’t help but smile back, glancing away as she covers .

“I guess…” Sehun hesitates and she turns to look at him, the cold evening air finally beginning to affect her as the warmth from the alcohol begins to disappear, replaced by a dreary coldness and a flickering sunset, more dark blues and blacks than soft hues of oranges and yellows and pinks. The setting sun makes their shadows stretch on and on, thinning out as it stretches out in the direction of SM Town. Jessica exhales softly, white puffs of air spilling from her lips. Her fingers are tangled together as she stares at him, watches the way he smiles and looks up, the pale column of his neck stretching upwards, his Adam’s apple bobbing in place, his eyelashes fanning out in a peculiar sort of way. “I’ve never thought much about leaving because everyone I love and care about is already here.”

“What if they left?” She asks.

“I’d go with them.” He says, simply. As if it’s that simple. She thinks maybe it is, for Sehun, as she recalls the story of stars he recounted, what feels like lifetimes ago. He’d die for his loved ones, hell, he’d die with his loved ones, and it’s so utterly selfless that it makes her chest ache.

He looks at her with stars dancing in his eyes, entire constellations playing within the deep depths of dark brown eyes. She feels winded, the small puffs of air falling from her lips more frequently than a moment ago. “Do you want to leave?” Sehun asks.

There’s something in his tone, an edge to it that she can’t quite pinpoint, that makes her feel warm, that makes her feel like she’s included in that group of people he’d follow to the ends of the Earth. For a moment, she doesn’t feel like the burden she knows she is.

“Yeah,” She says, her fingers clasped together as she looks at her toes, “Someday, I would like to leave.”

It’s quiet for a long moment. She doesn’t think he’ll respond, really, but then his hands come into her line of sight. Her eyes widen when one of Sehun’s hands land on top of her clasped, shaking fingers, gripping her fingers as if he’s trying to steady them. She counts six small cuts lining his pale fingers, trailing along the back of his hand, between his knuckles. Like blood in the snow, she thinks, unconsciously unclasping her fingers just to rub her thumb over one of the cuts, his knuckles paling as his grip tightens at the sudden pressure. Sehun just uses his other hand to engulf her hands in his, rubbing his hands up and down, the friction warming up her cold fingers.

She peeks up at him, through the hair falling into her face, and watches, reddening all the while, as he continues to rub her hands, drawing circles into the back of her hands. He looks up at the stars again, evening sun all but gone, replaced by nothing but twinkling stars overhead, twinkling stars in his eyes.

Her grip on her own hands tightens, the same way his grip on hers do too. “Then, someday, I would like to leave, too.”

She blinks rapidly, her heart slamming in , and Sehun just smiles, small, thin, and unassuming, as he tugs at both her hands, making her stumble forward as he begins to walk backward. “Let’s get back to my car before you freeze to death, idiot.”

~.~.~.~.~

From: Unknown Number

The offer still stands.

~.~.~.~.~

Sooyong just stares at her hands and Jessica hates it, hates the desolate look in her eyes, the trembling fingers.

Minhee stares at Sooyong, too, whispers, “Sooyong, I’m fine.”

“They shot your driver.” Sooyong mumbles and Jessica watches as the desolate look disappears, replaced by anger as she rubs at her eyes, smudging her makeup. “They got a sniper to shoot your driver right through the head and we’re lucky your car didn’t end up wrapped around a lamp post.” Sooyong exhales deeply, the sound ragged, jumping up and down, “They could have easily shot you.”

“But that didn’t happen.”

“Because they’re playing games.”

Jessica doesn’t think anyone so young should look so utterly exhausted. Sooyong’s lost weight in her face and gained decades in her eyes and Jessica doesn’t know what to do. She thinks maybe, just maybe, she can find a way to talk Zelo out of it—because she could see it in his eyes, earlier. He may be gone but he isn’t gone the same way Bang Yongguk was. Zelo’s revenge hasn’t had years to fester, the way Yongguk’s did. Maybe she can—

“Kris thinks this was a minor car accident.” Minhee speaks up, suddenly, her eyes filled with determination. She puts a hand on Sooyong’s shoulder. “I don’t think he should be informed otherwise.”

Mina stares at Minhee, her eyes unreadable, tinged with ever-present sadness, the scar on her face stark against the backdrop of her face, “Why?”

“Haven’t you noticed that he’s been incredibly dismissive about Zelo and Moon Jongup, despite everything?” Minhee asks, her wide eyes filled with anger.

Jessica blinks in realization, “He still hasn’t given us full access to our weapons.”

Mina stares at Minhee and Jessica for a long, long time, her eyes flickering back and forth, while Sooyong just presses her lips into a thin line, eyes distant. Mina slowly nods, “I’ve noticed. I just...I didn't realize.”

Then Sooyong speaks up, “Don’t tell the other boys either. They’ll—they’ll be obligated to let the others know.” There’s a pained look in Sooyong’s eyes then and this time Mina shakes her head, frowning again.

“Is this what it’s coming down to? Are we keeping secrets from them again? From our allies?” Mina pauses, “From our friends?”

Jessica laughs and it sounds a tiny bit bitter, “Who said they ever stopped keeping secrets from us?”

She thinks of Sehun and Jongin and she realizes she’s right. But Sooyong still looks sad, so so sad, and Jessica doesn’t think it’s right. They’re too young to be so sad.

“Sometimes, secrets are necessary.” Sooyong says.

They’re too young to sound so jaded.

~.~.~.~.~

From: Unknown Number

My offer still stands.

~.~.~.~.~

Jessica peers into the dark room very carefully, slowly stepping out of the hall as she observes every inch of the room, almost habitually. She takes in the clothes, folded neatly in the corner, a torn dress here, a blouse there, a pair of leggings strewn in disarray next to the pile of neatly folded clothes. She stares at those pair of leggings for a long, long time, frowning when she notices the way it’s torn up, her heart knocking against her ribcage in panic, the very same panic she shoves back down with all the determination she can muster.

Then she hears a small creak, barely discernable if it weren’t for the fact that she’s been working on her stealth skills for months now and she knows she’s improved significantly, mostly because she had vowed a long, long time ago that she wouldn’t allow herself to get snuck up on ever again, not since that time downtown. Ironically, she’s standing in the same place she had cursed herself in last time, for being snuck up on.

Leaning against the door hinge across the room, blinking at her in a hazy sort of way, is Kim Minseok.

Minseok’s almond shaped eyes sparkle with recognition a moment too late, which means he’s either been drinking or is under the influence of some other drug, and they seem to glow in the dimly lit room. Minseok’s eyes drift through the room, as if his hazy mind is just beginning to remember exactly where he is, before he frowns deeply. “What are you doing here?”

“Jongin.” Jessica states in explanation, grateful for the distraction. She’s here because of Jongin, not because he asked, he’d never ask, but because she had never ever intended to just let go of the conversation they had had so many nights ago, but it had been so hard finding a way to get herself alone with Jongin, since either Sehun would appear out of thin air or Jongin would disappear before she’d get the chance to corner him. Basically, he’s been avoiding her.

Minseok raises both brows so high, it nearly touches his hairline. And then he chuckles, slow, breathy, absolutely amused. “What’s with the sneaking around? Is he avoiding you or something?” Minseok muses, curiosity trickling through the amusement lacing his tone, catching on more quickly than Jessica ever expected him to in his current state.

Jessica just shrugs, pursing her lips as she tries to look as casual as possible. She tries to act like Minseok isn’t completely correct in his assumptions.

“So he is.” Minseok smiles for a short second before the ever-present smile disappears from his face, replaced by a frown as he squints at the room they’re both standing in. His eyes snap back to meet hers and there’s something awfully serious there, something she’s not quite used to seeing in Kim Minseok’s eyes because he’s the epitome of laid back and calm, even during situations where he honestly should not be. “You don’t want to go in there right now.” He jerks his chin back behind him, pursing his lips slightly. “I’m surprised you even came here in the first place.”

She raises a brow at him, then, ignoring his last sentence and instead focusing on his first sentence. “Why don’t I want to go in there?” Her eyes flicker over his shoulder.

He gives her an incredibly questioning look, “You don’t recognize this place?”

Jessica would be lying through her teeth if she said she didn’t and the look on Minseok’s face tells her that he’s completely aware of that fact. Jessica remembers every single tiny, insignificant detail of this disgusting place. After all, she had been left on her own in this room for days (or maybe weeks?) with nothing to do but think about what had happened, what will happen again, and mindlessly (or rather mindfully) dwell in this place, in its horrific events.

“Don’t remind me.” She glares at Minseok and snaps out sharply, gritting her teeth so hard she can hear them grinding in her skull. It’s not enough to convey her anger. It will never be enough. She crosses her arms as she makes a point to look at Minseok and only Minseok.

That’s when Minseok’s hazy, faraway eyes soften significantly, embarrassingly really, and Jessica doesn’t like it. She’s used to Sehun looking at her like that. Even Jongin. She tolerates Sooyong, Minhee, and Mina as much as she can when they get that way with her, like she’s a fragile little thing that’ll shatter at any moment, but she doesn’t want or need softness (pity) from anyone else. She already hates when Sehun or Jongin or Sooyong or Mina or Minhee do it, so of course she’ll absolutely despise it when Kim Minseok, of all people, gives her that damn look.

Before she can bite out a stop ing looking at me like that Minseok pushes himself off the door to the room behind him and steps past her, his footsteps echoing in the room, his arm brushing hers. She watches his movements, blinking at the spontaneity of it, and he gestures her to follow him.

She glances back at the door, where Jongin supposedly is, but then Minseok places a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmurs, “Wait for him outside. He should be back soon. You don't want to go in that room.”

It sounds like a warning to her, like whatever is happening inside that room is something she won’t like walking in on. He’s right, of course, because she figures anything concerning him and his horrid warehouse will only end in heartbreak, whether Jongin is involved or not. Judging from Minseok's words, she doesn't think Jongin is involved and that releases a tiny amount of the tension in her shoulders.

Jessica stares back at the room Minseok had come out of until she hears the door behind her creak open, the sound echoing eerily throughout the room in a way that makes shivers run up and down her spine.

So Jessica follows Minseok outside and they step out behind the warehouse and onto a field of brown grass, where the pinks and purples and dark, dark blues of nighttime gradually swallow up the orange-yellow sun inch by inch, engulfing it’s warmth with nothing but coldness, the pale outline of the moon poised opposite the fading sun, waiting and waiting to fill the darkness with its soft glow.

It’s always here, at this time, Jessica thinks, upon the threshold of day and night, when everything always seems to slow down for her. Her thoughts, the world around her, everything. She watches the way Minseok slowly slips down the side of the building, his shirt catching on the bricks and riding up a bit before he plops down on to the ground, gravel crunching beneath his feet. He crosses his legs beneath him as he pulls out a bag filled with three tiny hand-made cigarettes. The shadows elongate over his features, hiding his eyes for a moment while he pats the spot next to him, making a cloud of dirt rise up a bit at the movement.

Jessica takes the spot, watching as he flicks at his lighter with his thumb, once, twice, the sparks flying but not quite igniting, before a flame flickers to life, dancing in the shadows, glowing bright. The flame creates shadows under his jaw, shadows that seem to brighten up his usually hazy eyes, making them softer somehow, steadier, sharper, and less drugged out. Minseok looks so very serious right then and it’s a strange sight to behold, especially when he’s always been everything but.

Minseok takes a slow drag from the blunt in his hand before he exhales, small, barely there wisps of white smoke floating between them before dissipating into air, the smell—similar to that of a skunk’s—makes Jessica wrinkle her nose a bit. She’s never liked the smell of weed.

“I don’t want to get involved in…in whatever you have with Jongin and Sehun.” Minseok says, his gaze fixed on a point straight ahead. The setting sun glints off his face, shadows his features, turns him dark and sad and so much more than the hazy, drugged out best friend of the person she hates most in the world.

She peers sideways at him, brushing the hair out of her eyes, “But you’re going to anyway, aren’t you?”

He inhales the weed before exhaling slowly, his cheeks hollowing and his lips pursing. The wisps of white curve and caress his features beautifully and she thinks he looks ethereal and sad and so, so tired. His eyes are closed when he speaks, “You should understand the gravity of who they are to me, Jessica. Friends, best friends, brothers, business partners, all of it. You, of all people, should understand my reservations best.” Minseok murmurs, the chirping crickets nearly drowning his words out. “You have to understand that whatever…whatever is happening between the three of you is affecting our business more than you know. They’re probably doing a damn good job hiding it from you, too.”

Jessica makes a face at the field of brown grass in front of her, “It’s funny, though, because nothing is going on between us. Maybe…maybe once upon a time, there was something there. Something growing. But it ended a long, long time ago and now they just watch over me like. Like I’m some kind of obligation of theirs.” Her heart twists a bit at her words and, for a moment, the relief washes over her. The reality of it, of the true weight her words had been piling onto her shoulders, seems to lessen as those words leave . Only then does she realize just how long she’s been keeping those thoughts inside of her, allowing them to morph into something scary and monstrous and painful. But the relief is short-lived, because her heart is twisting in her chest still and she hates it, she realizes, she hates that all she is to them is a burden, a chore. She hates that she wanted whatever they had to grow into something more, but Jongin and Sehun, she isn’t quite sure which one, wanted to end it, for reasons she will never really know. She hates it.

Minseok’s laugh startles her. It’s loud, high-pitched, and it echoes in the silent night, bouncing off of nothing and dispersing into the darkness, much like the smoke from his blunt. Her head snaps to the side and she frowns at Minseok, watching as he covers his mouth and giggles into his palm, the lit blunt flickering orange in his other hand. “You don’t—” Giggle. “You’re really—”

Jessica’s scowl grows progressively darker the more Minseok giggles waving the blunt around, until she’s giving him a murderous look and Minseok is practically slouched against the brick wall with tears in his eyes from laughter. “It’s really not that funny.” Jessica says, loudly.

Eventually, finally, Minseok quiets down, though it takes him a full minute to control himself, Jessica watching on stormily. Then he reaches over and pinches her cheek before he lights up the blunt and holds it out to her. She stares at him because honestly what is wrong with him? He raises a brow, still smiling gummily, before he murmurs, “Open up a little, Jess.”

Jessica wants to be offended by his words because really? Really? How ing dare he? But there’s something almost sobering about the way he says it, about the way he pulls his arm back and takes another smoke, smile still making his lips twitch despite the fact that there’s something so incredibly serious in his eyes. It’s disarming somehow and she suddenly finds herself leaning her right shoulder against the brick wall, her knees drawn up to her chest so she’s facing Minseok as he leans back completely, not quite looking at her.

She doesn’t know why she does it, perhaps it’s the very same reason she had started stealing weapons for LILAC so long ago, perhaps it’s because of where they are sitting right now, or perhaps it’s something else entirely, but she holds out a hand for the blunt. Minseok seems to gauge her expression for a moment, in that way of his that seems entirely too sober despite the amount of drugs he’s probably already taken, before he seems to nod to himself. He hands her the makeshift blunt, lighting it for her as she takes a long drag, a flurry of coughs falling from her lips, before she passes it back, dropping her head against the wall, her eyes watering a bit.

Minseok flicks at his lighter twice, since the fire doesn’t catch the first time, the paper burning slowly in its wake, a fascinating sight of blackened cigar paper and red ember as silence seems to draw out between them. Minseok takes a drag and passes it back to her and she does the same. Back and forth, back and forth, until Jessica’s not really keeping track and her face warms up as an invisible force seems to tug at the apples of her cheeks, pulling them upwards inexplicably.

“That’s the thing that’s so annoying to watch.” Minseok says, shaking his head. For a moment, she has no idea what he’s talking about until she remembers the conversation they were just having. “The three of you continue to keep secrets and then get more and more confused when nothing makes sense.”

“But there is no three of us.” Jessica interrupts, latching onto those words with a sad smile, only because she can’t, for the life of her, frown no matter how hard she tries. And she’s trying pretty damn hard. “There’s only them and me.”

Minseok smiles again and Jessica watches as he presses the already finished blunt against the brick wall before crushing it with his foot, the orange embers disappearing instantly. She giggles at the way he does it, without actually getting up, and he snorts at her, “That’s the main problem, isn’t it? That you think there’s no three of us, when that’s all the rest of us see.” Minseok looks almost sad, right then. “You’re such children. You can’t even communicate with each other properly. It’s ridiculous. Killing is easy as cake, but talking? Oh, God, no. The horror!”

Jessica smile-frowns at the way he puts his hands over his chest and mockingly mumbles the last sentence before he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a child.” Jessica pouts at that, because really, she’s not. She’s a grown adult who pays the bills and does adult things like take out the trash without being told to. Something about Minseok’s expression tells her that she’s accidentally said all that out loud and she can’t help but snicker at the way he raises his brows.

Minseok hops to his feet, brushing the dust off his pants before he holds out a hand for her to take. He nods, tone placating. “Of course, you’re right. Taking out the trash is very, very adult. All I’m advising is that you just open up a little, Jess.” Minseok mumbles. Then he frowns and she giggles at the way his expression morphs into something so serious because it looks so out of place on his face. “Not to me, necessarily. I mean, you could if you wanted to, but, whatever. Do what you want. Just open up to the people who matter.” Then his eyes fall away from Jessica’s grinning face (because she can’t help but laugh at how awkwardly he’s stumbling through his words) and they flicker somewhere above her. That’s when his expression becomes so utterly serious that it makes Jessica blink rapidly, wondering if she’s imagining it. “Open up a little.” He repeats, seriously, slowly.

Jessica stares for a moment before Minseok grabs her hand and tries to haul her up on to her feet, which only results in her stumbling into the wall and laughing at the way his expression twists funnily, his tongue sticking out in an amusing way.

Minseok smiles widely, brows raising as he stares at a point over her head, when—

“Jess.” Jongin’s voice echoes quietly from behind her and she jumps at the abruptness.

She turns, placing a hand on the brick wall next to her to steady herself, her face hurting because of how wide she’s smiling, how she can’t seem to stop smiling, because, well, Jongin has been avoiding her and they both know it, hell, even Minseok knows it.

(And, admittedly, she’s missed him, missed seeing him in a context sans Sehun.

She was here to ask him something, but she doesn’t even remember what anymore, she’s just happy to see him again.)

Jongin’s frowning and it creates a series of wrinkles between his brows, the kind she wants to smooth out with her thumbs. Both hands because those wrinkles will only get deeper if he continues frowning and glaring as much as he does and she needs all the arm strength she has to smooth them away.

She blinks away her thoughts because they’re terribly cheesy and Jongin continues frowning-slash-glaring, though at Minseok this time instead of her.

Then he’s storming forward, words spilling from his lips that processes a little slow, mostly because she’s entirely too focused on his hand curling around her waist, gently holding her to him. He smells like sweat and the laundry detergent Jessica bought Sehun when she realized he’s terrible at doing his laundry regularly and a faint hint of cologne and Jongin and she blinks rapidly, her face pressed to his shoulder. His words tunnel in and out in her ears, “Hyung, are you ing serious?”

“She wanted to.” Jessica let’s go of the wall, her hand finding purchase at Jongin’s waist, her fingers curling around his soft cotton shirt as she looks over her shoulder, where Minseok is shrugging and she can’t quite see Jongin’s face at this angle, since his chin is pressed against the other side of her head and she’s straining her neck just to see Minseok. She can feel Jongin’s muscles tense beneath her fingertips, through the thin black shirt, and she presses her palm into his waist, suddenly anxious in calming him down.

Minseok’s eyes are dark, surprisingly annoyed. Jongin’s tone matches the expression in Minseok’s eyes to a tee, “Doesn’t mean you just get her higher than a kite an—”

Minseok rolls his eyes, “She’s capable of making her own choices, Jongin. Besides, some weed’s not gonna kill her. Not in our profession, at least.” Minseok glances sideways at Jessica for a moment and she doesn’t think anger suits his features well at all. “You and Sehun, on the other hand, just might.”

“What the hell is—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Minseok sighs, then, cutting Jongin off completely. Jessica watches him close his eyes before he opens them, stepping sideways and out of her sight. She turns her head, her cheek brushing along Jongin’s soft t-shirt, watching as Minseok steps around Jongin and strides away. His words drift between the three of them, irritable and so, so tired, “Just get your together. You heard what I said, don't give me that look. We already have enough problems as it is and I want all this to get resolved before it becomes a bigger problem. Because it will. At the rate you all are going, it will.”

~.~.~.~.~

“I’m hungry.” Jessica mumbles, glancing sideways at Jongin. She finally tears her eyes away from the window, where the world seems to be moving so so fast while Jongin drives, soft music filling the silence between them. It’s mesmerizing, really, the way the trees look in the dark, the way the world becomes splotchy blurs from inside Jongin’s car. The bass from the music only seems to amplify her fascination with staring out the window and only when her stomach continues growling, nonstop, does she realize that she’s incredibly hungry and Jongin hasn’t said a word to her since they got into the car. Unfortunately, she isn’t quite sure whether it’s been ten minutes or an hour since she’s stepped into the car with him after leaving the warehouse.

She blinks at him, watching the way his jaw tenses. He has one hand on the wheel (though it looks visually pleasing, she isn’t quite sure if it’s safe to drive that way, especially with the way Jongin drives, all fast and smooth, changing lanes at a speed that should get him a ticket or ten) and he won’t look at Jessica, his jaw ticking in that way of his. His hair is much too long now, brushing along his eyelashes in a way that looks very annoying for him. He keeps using his free hand to brush away the hair from his eyes before he leans his elbow against the door and presses his fingers against his chin. There’s something hard and rigid about the way he sits, a deep contrast in comparison to the softness in his features, in his golden skin and pink lips and too-long boyish haircut.

Usually, she wouldn’t say anything because two can play at this silent game, but her stomach is rumbling and the incessant tugging at the apples of her cheeks seems to have morphed into focusing too much on random, unimportant objects and a sudden awareness in details, in the booming bass hidden beneath the soft vocals of whatever song Jongin’s playing on the stereo. She can still feel herself smiling for no damn reason though, so she presses her knees up to her chest and peers sideways at Jongin, feeling the soft bass thrum at her veins, like the gentle pit-pat of summer rain against her skin rather than the usual blaring boom of a club that manages to overwhelm the beating of her own heart. Words spill from her lips easily and she vaguely remembers that this was the sole reason why she’s always hated smoking and drinking. All the other effects are fine, great even, in fact she’s always reveled in the escape they’d bring her, but this tendency to talk and talk, even when she’d much rather be a petty , she could live without.

“Jongin?” She grumps, frowning at him.

He makes a face at the road before grunting in response.

She grimaces, “I’m hungry.” She repeats, louder this time, her voice echoing over the steady crooning of whichever artist Jongin put on.

“Too bad.” He tells her, shrugging nonchalantly. Then he mumbles, more to himself than to her, “No one told you to get high. Deal with it.”

Jessica pouts, groaning loudly in response.

Jongin turns the music volume up without looking at her.

Jessica groans louder, pout deepening.

Jongin gives her a look, when he not-so-discretely glances at her from the corner of his eyes, and she continues pouting at him until he sighs, long and suffering as if the weight of the entire world has been upon his shoulders, before he mumbles, “I’ll tell Sehun to bring something home.”

She grins and Jongin’s frown just deepens.

~.~.~.~.~

“You know.” Jessica begins, mouth filled with fries (because Jessica’s stomach had growled loudly ten minutes after she asked for food and she had clutched at her tummy with a forlorn expression directed at Jongin and Jongin had sighed heavily in the midst of a lane change before swerving into the closest fast food restaurant’s drive thru, wearily handing over his credit card to the cashier as she grinned at him).

She waves a fry in Jongin’s direction to get his attention, from where she’s sitting cross-legged in their living room in front of the coffee table munching on the most delicious fries she’s ever had. Jongin’s sitting on the couch to her right, his eyes pinned on the television. He just frowns.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. Please.” Jongin says, without ever looking at her, his tone bland, his full lips pursing as his nose wrinkles in this ridiculously cute way. He leans his head on the heel of his palm, the fringe of his hair brushing along his eyelashes, yet he never even looks at her. She thinks, maybe just maybe, he’s avoiding looking her in the eyes, though she can’t figure out what the reasoning behind that would be.

“You never answered my question.” Jessica says, frowning slightly at the bluntness in her tone. The extreme effects of the weed has pretty much run its course and now she’s just hungry as hell and is looser than she’d like for it to be. That’s another thing she hates about drugs and alcohol; near the end, the effects only seem to devolve into an uncharacteristic need for attention and words she can’t quite explain and she’s pretty sure Jongin and Sehun are aware of that. Yet here Jongin is, refusing to look at her even once. She wants to pretend like she hasn’t noticed the way he hasn’t looked at her since they got out of the car, but it’s been nearly an hour and a half and, at a certain point, it just becomes hard to pretend. It becomes exhausting.

“Which one? You have a lot.” Jongin says and his voice sounds vaguely pointed, as well as the slightest bit amused.

She throws him an offended look and, even though he’s not really looking at her, she swears his lips twitch upwards at her reaction. That only makes her glare deepen.

“Funny.” She mumbles around a couple fries and a sip of soda, clearly unamused. “I’m talking about the other day. When I asked you why. Before Sehun showed up.”

Jongin doesn’t respond, again.

She stares at him, her gaze boring a hole into the side of his head, but he keeps his gaze focused on the television, his jaw ticking in that way of his, his brows crinkling together in that way that makes her want to smooth them away. She wants to scream, right then and there, because it’s happening again. He isn’t speaking, he’s thinking, thinking too much, and she just wants to know why. Why, why, why.

Her eyes start to sting then and she thinks, no God no, and she tries to blink them away, but is loose and her emotions are looser, and the darkness blanketing over her is a reminder of everything she’s ever hated about smoking, about its aftereffects. She focuses on her fries, chewing on them slowly as she blinks rapidly, again and again and again, but her nose itches and twitches and closes up and a voice in her head is screaming stop, don’t do it.

“Jessica.” His voice is soft, then, entirely too soft, maddeningly soft.

She doesn’t look at him. She can’t.

(Because if she does she’s afraid she won’t be able to control her eyes or or anything she prides herself in controlling.

She ignores the small voice in her head, that sounds just like Minseok, whispering Open up a little because that’s the last thing she wants to do when clearly Jongin won’t even do the same for her.

That last thought alone makes her blink rapidly all over again because it’s painfully heartbreaking, inexplicably so.)

“Jess.” His voice is softer than before, impossibly low, like a gentle caress drifting through the living room.

She chews her food slowly, gaze pinned intently on the television the same way he had been doing earlier.

He exhales softly and then it’s quiet again, the commercial echoing softly in the room.

She thinks, maybe just maybe, he’ll let it go, but then—

“It was too much.” Jongin murmurs and his voice sounds faraway, like he’s standing at the end of a long, winding tunnel and she’s just barely able to hear it. There’s a tinge of desperation in his tone, of the memories his words are bringing back, and it only makes her heart clench in her chest, like he’s squeezing her heart between his fists relentlessly. “I woke up one morning and all your things were everywhere. You were everywhere. Strewn throughout our apartment like, like. I don’t know. I just saw it and I—”

“You threw me out.” Jessica finishes for him, cutting off his hitched tone. She drops both hands to her lap, her eyes still pinned to the television in front of her. Her nose stings painfully, but she’s surprised her voice sounds so steady, so bland, so normal. “You picked everything—me—up and threw it all away and—”

“I’m sorry.” Jongin mumbles, interrupting the words spilling from her lips, and he sounds pained, infinitesimally tired. But he doesn’t contradict her. That’s what makes her heart inexplicably sink to her stomach because he doesn’t try to soften the impact of her own damn words and realizations. It’s like he’s released her heart from his grip, only to let it sink to her stomach, shriveled up and ruined and it ing hurts.

(She can’t figure out why it hurts so much, but, Goddamn, it hurts more than most of the things she’s experienced in her lifetime.)

That’s when she laughs and it sounds so off, even to her own ears. It catches in and it’s so bitter, so angry. Because that’s how she feels, right then, bitter and angry and—and she realizes she never wanted his answer, because she knew, deep down, that this was what he was going to say.

She pushes herself to her feet, her hands balled into fists and she refuses to look at Jongin. “Stop saying that.” She says and she tries to sound fiery, but it doesn’t work. Maybe, if she had been in the right state of mind for this conversation, she could have easily done it, but she isn’t and the threat of tears is becoming more and more imminent the longer she stays in the apartment. “Stop saying you’re sorry.”

She bites out that awful word and thinks, especially when it doesn’t mean anything to you.

“Jess—”

She groans, turning away, and she doesn’t even bother to listen to anything else he has to say, making her way around the couch, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Jess.” His voice — there’s something in it that makes her pause for just a short moment, that same desperate edge as before, but then she shakes her head and yanks on her coat, refusing to look at him, to answer him, to think about him. But her eyes sting and fill with unshed tears and she wants the ground to swallow her up whole because Jongin had made it clear six months ago that he was done, yet here she is, still clinging to him in her own convoluted way, still clinging to him and to Sehun and to them.

It was always just them. She knows that, knew that for so damn long, yet here she is.

Then fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her from stomping out the front door. She stops, her eyes drifting down to the hand wrapped around her wrist, his grip light enough for her to easily break out of if she really wanted to.

(But a big part of her doesn’t want to and that makes her even angrier.)

“Let go.” She whispers, but Jongin doesn’t let go and she isn’t sure why she’s not just tugging her hand out of his grip, why she wants him to let go first. He’s not holding on to her tight enough to prevent her from breaking free on her own.

“Look—” He murmurs, “Look at me.”

“No.” She shakes her head and the anger and sadness morph together into something else entirely and she’s shaking her head back and forth back and forth back and forth, “No.”

“Jess, please, I just—”

“Let go.” Tears spring to her eyes and she can’t hold it back anymore, allowing them to spill over as she looks at anything but him. She’s never cried in front of him, that’s all she can think of at that moment, that out of the two of them, she’s only ever let herself cry in front of Sehun. “Pl—please, just let me go.”

Her eyes sting and her nose goes runny and hurts and she can’t stop crying, sniffling loudly as she takes ragged breaths, her fingers digging into the palms of her hands as she repeats please even though Jongin’s already let go of her wrist, he had let go the minute she had said no. She’s not talking about his literal grip on her anymore, though, and the silence emanating from him, choking her, only makes that more clear.

“I can’t.” He whispers and his voice is throaty, pained. “Don’t you get it?”

That’s when her knees buckle and she slumps against the wall beside the door, wiping at her eyes futilely because now that the tears have started, they won’t stop. Her brain tries to analyze his words, but she can barely focus on catching her breath, let alone think. She’s shaking her head, her hands pressed to her eyes.

And then hands wrap around her fists, warm and soft and careful, so so careful. His fingers engulf her fists as he gently pulls them forward, away from her eyes, from her face, and she has her eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping down her cheeks. His thumbs draw circles around and around and around along the back of her hands and her breathing grows ragged, staggering.

“I can’t.” He repeats, voice lower than a whisper, and she drops her arms to her sides, his hands still latched to hers, still rubbing circles into the back of her hands.

Something inside her says not to open her eyes, not to look, but she does it anyway. She opens her eyes and Jongin’s inches from her face. It makes her heart twist and drop to the pit of her stomach when she really looks into his eyes because they’re ridiculously soft and shining, filled with unshed tears. There’s a vulnerability there that she has never seen before, that makes her stomach churn. She wants to run. The minute she lays eyes on his expression, she wants to run, because she has never seen him like this before.

 She stares at him with tears that just won’t stop, her ragged breaths turning into hiccups, and he searches her face, his expression melting softly in the dim light, his tanned skin glowing, before he slowly, so so slowly, reaches up to her face and brushes the rough pad of his thumb along her cheek, brushing the tears away.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t.” He murmurs.

“I don’t—I don’t—” She hiccups, stammering over her words as she tries to catch her breath, tries to stop crying, tries to voice her thoughts.

Jongin cups her cheek with the palm of his hand, carefully, as if she’s made of glass, and she thinks it’s strange because he’s never held her quite like this before. Usually, Sehun would cuddle her with this much care when she dissolved into a mess like this and perhaps that’s why her breathing starts to return to normal and her tears start to slow, her heart rate returning to normal. The sense of security Jongin’s touch gives her, the fact that it reminds her of Sehun, seems to calm her down and she welcomes that, despite what he’s just said.

“I know.” He murmurs, dark eyes staring straight into her soul. He leans close, so so close, and presses his warm lips against her forehead. She inhales his scent of musk, warm spice, so much warmth, and Jongin, Jongin, Jongin and she exhales shakily, both her hands twisting in his shirt, even as he presses her tear-stained face against the crook of his neck.

“I don’t deserve this.” She finally manages to choke out, voice muffled by the crook of his neck. He leans back and she hates the loss of contact, the loss of his warmth. She looks at him, seriously looks at him, her voice hitching and her face wet, “This is—it’s so selfish.”

Because it is, God, it’s so ing selfish. His eyes, soft and warm, seem sad, even as he nods, briskly, telling her that he knows that’s the case before he even opens his mouth.

“I know.” He confirms her thoughts and she watches as his eyes grow distant. She wonders what he’s thinking about, what makes his soft eyes hide so much worry. Her stomach twists because he isn’t denying it and it hurts.

She untangles her hands from his t-shirt and she hates herself for it, misses the warmth he’s always radiating. He stands still, allows her to pull away from him because he’d never do anything to her without her permission, but his eyes, his ing eyes, harden as he watches, as he stays in the exact same spot and watches her duck sideways, away from the tiny space between the wall and his body, his caging eyes.

“It’s too selfish.” She murmurs as she opens the door, refusing to look at Jongin’s face as she says it, only to find Sehun there, his keys halfway out and a takeout bag hanging precariously off the crook of his elbow. For a very short moment, Jessica feels guilty as she looks into Sehun’s eyes, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing, and she doesn’t know why.

Then Sehun’s eyes widen just a fraction of an inch, his gaze searching hers. She manages to smile at him, but she’s sure it isn’t even close to a smile because his eyes narrow and he frowns.

“Jess, what’s—?”

She steps around him before he can finish his question, her hands pressed together, fingers digging into her palms as she tries to shake the memory of Jongin’s eyes, his face, his lips pressed to her forehead, inches from her lips, his warm hands, and his ing words out of her head for good.

She wants Sehun’s concerned eyes and the guilt bubbling up in her chest gone.

~.~.~.~.~

From: Zelo

My offer still stands.

But I am open to making a compromise.

a/n: I HAVEN'T UPDATED SINCE MAY?? JKDNFSKJN I HATE MYSELF HOW COULD I DO THAT? here's a long chapter to make up for it, I love you guys a lot and I'm set on writing a lot during break omg.

thank you so much for sticking around!

xoxo