[title song: dear love - hyunsik; all night - steve aoki x lauren jauregui]
[4k; heads up that there is no or anything but this gets a tiny bit spicy, also will edit tomorrow]

DOUBLE UPDATE

13.

It’s a simple plan, really. Pretend to be an oblivious rich couple throwing money around at a street race because that’s the kind of people the target tends to go after. He’ll try to seduce her. She’ll let him, after two attempts. She’ll lead him to the designated rendezvous point. Baekhyun will subdue him while he is distracted. Then they’ll take the man to the hostage car waiting around the corner. Suho will deal with the rest. It’s simple; easy.

Except she has never done something like this before. She doesn’t even know if she’s good at acting.

Baekhyun looks expensive, in his designer clothing and slicked back hair. He had changed before they headed out. Right now, Baekhyun plays the role well, his hand on Sunhee’s hip as he stumbles, pretending to be drunk. He loudly proclaims his bets, flashes his expensive watch, and keeps pulling out bills. Baekhyun even saunters much too close, mutters sorry before he stuffs a wad of cash into Sunhee’s bra before he loudly says go have some fun, sweetheart. Then he leaves a sloppy kiss on Sunhee’s cheek. Sunhee suppresses her amusement, because, well, he’s good.

Sunhee, on the other hand, is better at this than she thought. Maybe it’s the disguise—it adds a layer anonymity that allows her some comfort. Either way, she easily flits through the crowd of the underground. She tries not to focus on the type of people present, the sharp eyes—many watching her like she is a rabbit sauntering through a pack of wolves—nor the barely concealed weapons. The flag girls wave their flags as cars zip past them, beginning their race. Someone throws an arm around her shoulders, weighing her down heavily, the smell of cologne invading her senses. She plasters a smile on her face, blinking up at him owlishly, and she steels herself, gets to work, wonders why the she she’s agreed to this every time the man’s hands find her or touch her skin, every time he breathes too close. She wants to kick him, but this is their target—middle-aged, salt and pepper hair, beady eyes, a penchant for girls half his age. She braces herself as she does exactly what she’s supposed to. Until she easily manages to lure him where she needs him, the plan moving much to smoothly. She notices Baekhyun disappear and she calms her nerves as she spins, smiling at the target, praying she does not look as constipated as Sanha always says she does when she forces a smile on her face.

The man follows her.

~.~.~.~.~

The man leans close, his eyes heady as his breath fans over her face. She tries not to look over his shoulder, tries not to make it obvious that she’s wondering when the they’ll come and get this man off her. She plasters a smile on her face, prays it looks inviting enough, and the man grins, all teeth, his hands still gripping her hips. He looks at her as if he wants to devour her, right where she stands, and her stomach churns. He leans even closer, until his lips hover right in front of his, fingers digging into the exposed skin of her hips, fiddling with the waistband of her shorts. She opens to say something, stall somehow maybe, when—

She gasps at the sharp pain running up her spine when he slams her up against the brick wall behind her, grip turning to steel, looming over her. She blinks at him, in shock, and she notices that the lust is gone, replaced by an acute fury, a darkness that makes her want to run very, very far away.

“What are you doing?” She squeaks, trying for innocence, for confusion.

The man grips with one hand, squeezing tight, and she gasps, clawing at his wrists. It does nothing. His voice is menacing as he hisses, “Do you think I’m stupid?”

She can’t respond, not with the way he’s blocking her airways. He loosens his grip, just a little, just enough for her to stop see black dots clouding her vision, and he continues, “Stupid . It’s obvious you’re in disguise.”

Her eyes widen, she can’t help it, and he notices. He chuckles, loud, too loud, his eyes changing into something terrifying, something she’s seen in many men before, at parties and clubs and on street corners, where they would focus too much on the very drunk, very vulnerable girls. She knows a dangerous ego, a superiority complex, when she sees it. Fear scurries right down her spine. Fear and adrenaline, but mostly fear—the kind she feels when she is alone at night and a man looks at her for far too long or is far too close or sits too close to her on an otherwise empty bus.

His other hand caresses her cheek, a chilling juxtaposition to the roughness in his demeanor. And then he lets his hand trail down her front. She stiffens as his fingers linger, as he mocks, “All this —” His fingers pull at her shirt, at her skin, at her hips, at the waistband of her shorts as he speaks each word clearly, concisely, “It doesn’t suit you at all. Like a little girl playing dress up.” He grins at her and she hates his touch, hates how disgusting she feels under his scrutiny. “Let’s see what you really look like, sweetheart.”

When his fingers tighten around , at her hips, something in her snaps. She ing snaps. She spits in his face. The action catches him off guard because he jolts, reflexively pulling a hand off her to wipe at the spit. The rage radiating from his is terrifying, but Sunhee takes the opening, kneeing him hard in the groin. He keels over and she shoves him, makes a move to run, but he grabs her ankle, yanking her down so hard she tumbles to the ground, all while one of his hands going to his hip—no doubt where his gun is. She acts on instinct, twisting the foot he’s gripping so she can land on her , all while she stomps on his fingers with her other foot, praying she breaks a couple fingers. He shouts ing and—

He’s gone.

She blinks and—and—and her brain registers it all moments too late. Baekhyun had pulled him away, has him in a headlock, a white cloth pressed to is face. After a moment of pointless struggling, the man goes limp in Baekhyun’s arms. Baekhyun’s eyes, however, are on her, scanning her body for injuries.

“.” He looks flustered almost and it’s almost a funny sight, especially since he has a limp gang member slumped in his arms all the way. “, , . I’m so sorry I’m late. I was caught up with one of his men and—.”

Adrenaline is still rushing through her, her skin still crawling from that man’s touches, and all she can really do is shake her head, quickly. She says, “It’s fine. It’s okay. Just—let’s just head back.”

He nods, a rapid movement, biting his lip for a moment before he hauls the man up and around the corner, to where she knows Suho’s left a designated hostage car to take the man off to wherever Suho tortures information out of people.

For a moment, she is left alone, sprawled out on her in a deserted alley, bruises undoubtedly forming at . Her skin itches. She feels gross and her makeup feels heavy. She feels immensely alone, leftover adrenaline thrumming under her skin, making her feel a bit jittery as she uses the brick wall to pull herself up onto her feet.

Baekhyun returns, a moment later, and his eyes soften as he holds out a hand for her to take. Her brain runs on overdrive and she doesn’t even remember the car ride back—she barely remembers how the hell she got back to her room because she’s so consumed with her thoughts, with everything that man had said to her and that feeling she had as she defended herself, the fear and adrenaline. She feels riled up, unable to sit still. She vaguely remembers Moonbin’s wide eyes meeting hers when she had stepped back into the house. Vaguely remembers that Seulgi hadn’t been there to make sure she made it back in one piece. That part hurts more than she wants to think about, her chest constricting.

She is sitting on her bed. Baekhyun is crouching in front of her, expression filled with concern, her makeup wipes in his hands.

She blinks at him, surprised at the sight of him, but she relaxes as he reaches over and gently wipes her makeup off, his touch featherlight. He uses several wipes and he does not speak. In a way, she’s grateful for the silence, because she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say. She also wishes he’d say something because she doesn’t really want to be in her thoughts anymore. She wants the gross feeling coating her skin to go away. She feels restless. She drums her fingertips against the top of her thighs and Baekhyun glances down at the movement. Still, he doesn’t say anything as focuses intently on the work at hand, his pink lips jutting out and his brows furrowed in concentration.

She finds content in just focusing on him, watching the ticks in his expression, watching him clean her up. She should feel embarrassed, but somehow, she isn’t. She feels safe, almost, with him and every featherlight touch is comforting.

Baekhyun tosses the used makeup wipes in the trash before he plucks the t-shirt and shorts she left on her chair, turning to her. He meets her eyes, looking for permission. She nods. He still moves slowly, allowing her to push him away if she really wanted to. She’s tired, she realizes, as she helps him pull the tight crop top off, lifting her hands above her head as he pulls the t-shirt on for her, helping her get her arms through. She lifts her hips, pushing the shorts off. His fingers are light against her bare legs, gentle, as he helps her put her pajama shorts on, too. Baekhyun’s gentle touch is comforting, especially after the experiences she had with the target. She doesn’t want him to stop, even as he pulls his hands away, still crouched in front of her, still staring at her.

Somehow, her skin still itches. She still feels the target’s disgusting touch on her skin, and she wants it to go away. She wants to feel safe, better, and maybe it’s because of the lingering adrenaline making loose, maybe she’s just touch-starved, or maybe it’s because she’s processing this string of traumatic events in a way that leaves a lot to unpack, but she finds she’s speaking before she can really think her words through.

She finally, finally, breaks the silence, her face hot, “Baek?”

“Hmm?” He hums, looking up from the clothing he’s finished folding.

“Can you please keep…keep touching me?”

The silence following her words cuts deep. She reddens, her cheeks burning, mortification beginning to settle over her. He just looks up at her in confusion, “What?”

keeps running. It keeps going and she thinks she’s going to die of embarrassment as she babbles, “I can still feel his touch and I want it gone. I’m sorry, you don’t have to, forget I asked. It’s just—”

She bites her tongue when he suddenly cups her face, his touch still so gentle, holding her as if she is something fragile, something worth handling with so much care. Her skin tingles. His eyes search hers. He asks, “Where do you want me to touch you?”

Her breath hitches. She can’t really speak, her heart fluttering at his low tone. So, she reaches up and grasps the fingers cupping her cheek. His eyes flicker, watching her movements, and when they return to her eyes, they hold sincerity and warmth and a tinge of something dark, a brief flicker of desire that makes her insides coil. She wraps her fingers around the back of his hand and guides his fingers to all the places the man had touched her. His pretty fingers draw soothing little circles wherever she places them, at her bruised throat, along her front over her shirt, and her eyes flutter closed at the solace in his nimble touch. She sighs as she guides his hands lower, to her hips, his finger touching the exposed strip of skin where her shirt rides up. He keeps rubbing little circles wherever she guides him, even when she guides his hand up under her shirt, against her skin, mostly because her skin tingles under his touch and she kind-of-sort-of-really wants him to touch her everywhere and anywhere.

He doesn’t touch her anywhere else though, no matter how much she wants him to. She opens her eyes—she hadn’t realized that she had left them closed since the beginning and she’s embarrassed—and she looks up at him. He tilts his head then, his gaze heavy, making the coil at the pit of her stomach grow tighter. There is still that signature twinkle of mischief, so so prominent. He is sitting on the bed beside her, his hands under her shirt, one splayed against her hip, the other on her lower back, teasingly still.

She wants to remind him that this okay because they agreed that they’d around already, that she just wants him to touch her, however he pleases, for ’s sakes.

But then, he leans in, so so close, a smile playing on his lips, and he presses his lips to her neck. She trembles at the feel of his soft lips, closing her eyes, and the pressure of his lips on her neck hurts a bit, probably from the bruises that man had left there. He seems to be kissing the bruises, once, twice, over and over, and she wonders how many there are. She doesn’t want to dwell on it.

Then he pulls away and the loss of his soft lips against her skin seems to jerk her into focus. She finds her voice, just enough, to whisper, “Please touch me, Baekhyun.”

She’s embarrassed at how her voice sounds, the neediness is ing embarrassing, but god she can’t deny that that is exactly how she feels right then. She blinks up at him, watches as he gives her the cutest little smile, cheeks puffing up. Her stomach flips, just as he shakes his head. He murmurs, “Not tonight. You’ve been through a lot and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

She huffs, slumps back on the bed, most likely crushing the hand he had on her back. She grumbles, “I’m asking you to take advantage of me, you idiot.”

He has the audacity to laugh, applying just a tiny bit more pressure on her hips, slightly less gentle, but very much welcome. She meets his gaze. He’s still grinning as he says, fondly, “Don’t be such a brat.”

She rolls her eyes though her heart stutters at his words and his tone. She flops over onto her stomach, her side pressing against Baekhyun’s crossed legs. In fact, half of her body is flopped on top of him. He moves his hands from her hips to her spine, gently running his hands up and down. She knows he’s right. That she’s not entirely okay and she needs more time to process what’s happened, rather than throwing herself into distracting herself. She still groans, face pressed to the mattress. She hears him giggle above her before he shifts. He keeps his hand under her shirt, on her skin, and the feel of his hands on her skins is calming. Eventually, her eyes begin to droop, and her breathing starts to even, his touch lulling into a dreamless sleep.

~.~.~.~.~

She wakes up to the sight of Baekhyun on his back right beside her, scrolling through his phone, dressed in a shirt and joggers. She’s curled up in a tight ball, knees pressed to his side. He has the blanket thrown over the two of them. She peers up at his side profile, noting the way his nose scrunches up as he focuses on the screen, tapping away at it. She scoots up, craning her neck to see what he’s so intently focused on and then she lets out an amused snort. He’s playing some video game and he’s losing. Badly.

She doesn’t even say anything, but he rolls his eyes at the screen and mutters, “Shut up.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

Baekhyun throws her a tiny smile, “Good morning, idiot. You feel better?”

She nods.

He gives her a -eating grin, “Still ?”

She groans at that, smacking his arm hard. He yelps, dropping his phone on his face with a loud thud, shouting in pain. She cackles as he rubs his nose, pouting at her as he attempts to shove her off the bed, and she can’t stop giggling. Baekhyun looks indignant, his nose red, and rolls off the bed, cackling. She thinks she’s going to be okay.

~.~.~.~.~

She’s lying on her back, staring at her ceiling. So is Baekhyun. Their shoulders are touching. It’s nearing noon and she knows they should get up, that they should maybe go talk to Suho or maybe she should confront Seulgi for not being there when she came back, maybe, maybe, maybe.

“How long do you think it’ll take until I’m working for you guys, too?” She doesn’t think before she speaks. Perhaps her filter snapped with whatever snapped in her last night.

She doesn’t dare look at Baekhyun.

He lets out a small sigh. He says, “You can stop, you know. You can leave while you still have the chance.”

“I can’t.” She swallows the lump in . “I can’t leave her here.”

“She left you here last night.” Baekhyun’s voice is nothing but a whisper, “Alone.”

She thinks about Moonbin’s wide eyes, about Seulgi’s absence, until Baekhyun whisked her away, to her bedroom.

“I know.” Her voice cracks at the last word. She knows Seulgi left her and it hurts and she wishes so badly she knew how to walk away. But she thinks she won’t learn until she’s in too deep. She thinks she’ll always feel like she has an obligation to watch out for her best friend.

Baekhyun shifts in the bed, shaking the whole thing, and she turns to see that he’s flipped onto his side, hand tucked under his, staring at her. She just leaves her head turned to the side, holding his gaze. He searches her face and he looks so very faraway, so sad. He looks at her as if he is seeing a ghost.

He says, “At this rate, you’ll end up bat crazy.”

She doesn’t give him the response he wants. Instead, she mutters, “We never did a great job breaking up Seulgi and Kai, did we?”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at the subject change, but he doesn’t reject it. He responds, “We barely even tried.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, Sunhee returning her gaze to the ceiling, though she can feel Baekhyun’s eyes on her face.

A full minute passes before Baekhyun says, “You remember Irene, right?”

She turns fully on her side to face him, copying his position. She grimaces, “How could I not. What about her?”

His smile is sheepish. He says, “She used to be a lot like you. Loved her routines. Organizing . Labels. Thought doing laundry was fun.”

She frowns, mutters, “Are you calling me boring?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate. Then he sighs. His eyes drift past her head, gaze fixed at a point over her shoulder, distant. “She ed around with the wrong people and fell in too deep. Now she’s stuck here.”

“Let me guess?” Sunhee observes the way his jaw ticks, the way his eyes don’t meet hers, “Now she’s bat crazy.”

“She’s broken. Thinks she deserves everything she got.” His gaze drops to meet hers then. He gives her a meaningful look.

“Yeah? I don’t blame her.” Sunhee mutters.

Baekhyun’s mouth sets into a thin line, “Just because you couldn’t see someone’s red flags doesn’t mean you deserved to be treated badly, Sunhee.”

She tenses. Maybe, that’s it. Maybe that’s exactly how she’s been feeling, exactly why she still feels so obligated to her friendship with Seulgi, to Seulgi. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

She can’t formulate a response.

Baekhyun sighs, says, “You should meet her, under better circumstances, obviously. It’s just—her story’s not mine to tell, but maybe it’ll help you.”

She purses her lips, murmurs, “I’ll think about it.”

He just nods, smiles gently, and the noon sun flooding through the cracks in her blinds caresses him kindly. He looks a bit angelic, right then. She smiles, too, she can’t help it.

Until there’s a knock at her door.

a/n: I guess this is a double update!!! I just wanted to post a little extra something because I've been gone so long! Thank you alllllllll for commenting I love u guys so much TT