Unsaid, Unkept, Ugly Emotions.

unsaid, unkept, ugly emotions.

a seventeen vocal unit imagines !

IN WHICH, the uglier side of feeling too much getting more messier than it already is for both parties involved.

(or in which for different reasons, it just seems you aren't meant to be.)

pairing : svt!vocal!unit! x gn!reader, bestfriend!jeonghan, popular!joshua, ???jihoon, fwb(?)seokmin, enemy!seungkwan.

genre : angst, no comfort, everything is messy.

warnings : cussing, messy, heartbreak, contemplation, arguements, miserable people, miscommunication, everyone gets hurt, a lot of unspoken feelings, like emphasis on that you may get annoyed.

author's note : here's my attempt at angsty feelings ( i hope it was done well enough, really i tried but it might not be for me )<3 the potential to turn each into a fic is there but for me it'll be zero ( for now!!!!) kinda nervous to post this haha it's my first svt work but also a first of this kind of work, let me know if you want more of the units! and what you thought of this :) also peep the cute colours contrasting the fic lmao

word count : 2.9k

˖° ✰ ┆JEONGHAN.

The signs that something was wrong were there. For a while now. But you being the problem runner you were, you chose to ignore it.

You also knew one day they’ll catch up to you, and it seemed today was it. 

“Jeonghan?” 

He raised an eyebrow at you. Though it was his name, it sounded so foreign coming from you. 

You who never called him by his full name. It left a sour taste on his tongue as he answered,

“Yes?”

“Do-do you think we’re good?”

Did he think you were good? He was feeling good, great even. But you asked in plural and in the plural it included you. Your relationship.

What was your relationship?

“Uhh…I’m…I think?” 

You smiled at his answer. It didn’t reach your eyes, nor did it hide away the bitterness in them. “You know what I think? I don’t think we’re good. I think- I think it’s all a mess. It’s me, isn’t it? I should have never told you how I felt right?”

There. You ripped the band-aid off right from the wound. You had to, otherwise you knew your heart would be the one shattered, sooner or later, so why wait?

You knew there’d be consequences on confessing to your best friend. You knew there was always a risk to confess but the risk felt higher if it was someone you considered your best friend. A few sentences and it’s either having a stranger who you shared a past with or someone to create more memories for the rest of your time together. 

The issue gets more complicated when you don’t know where you stand. 

He couldn’t answer you, he didn’t know how to answer you. On one side, he wanted to yell at you. Yell at you for regretting confessing when it may have been the one thing he wanted to hear since the day thirteen year old him saw you beat up a guy who was bullying your brother.

On the other hand, he felt the fear consume him of the future, what if you broke up? You would never be the same, no matter what. He didn’t want to lose what he had, so he rather left it unanswered, thinking with time, it’ll fade away. Like everything does.

His feelings for you never did. A wonder how he could think yours would.

Taking a deep breath with your eyes shut,you nodded knowing your answer,

“Alright then I see.”

“Let’s take a break from each other.”

Break of what? You didn’t date, you were in a one-sided love scenario with your best friend. 

Before he could reply, he watched you walk away. Your heart felt heavier when you didn’t hear a single word or even footsteps follow you. 

His mind was the loudest and one thing he was for sure, as you walked away with each step, he could feel his heart slowly crack.

And just like that. It is over. 

・₊ ‹𝟥 ┆JOSHUA.

Perhaps your biggest mistake was wanting someone who everyone wanted. But was it really your mistake because technically you were also part of everyone. 

You could feel his stare burn into your side as you ate the horrible cafeteria food in your college. You could somehow hear his voice, somehow know he was likely calling you to talk.

What went wrong?

Everything you’d answer if he ever asked. It began going downhill when you felt those feelings you knew you didn’t feel around anyone. Certainly when you hung out with Yeonjun or with Jimin, you didn’t feel them. 

You only felt them around him. The weird butterflies, the warm cheeks, the sweaty hands. At first you thought maybe you were actually scared of him, the intimidated type of scared. Who knew it ended up being scared of how you felt for him, how probably no one made you feel the way he did. 

Finally looking up at him, you hid all your emotions as best as you could. You certainly hoped he wouldn’t be able to know. 

But as your gaze fell to the girl beside him, you couldn’t hide them.

Choi Seora, the younger sister of Choi Seungcheol who was Joshua’s best friend since you could know. Well since that time he told you himself he knew the Choi siblings since they were kids. Childhood best friends. Knew them before you.

And she was also the girl who loved him. Anyone could see it from the way her eyes would look at him like the way one would at a treasure they’d been searching for. What she’d do for him, from what you’ve heard, what you’ve seen. There never was a chance.

It seemed as though the sign was already there. How could you compete with someone who knew him longer than you ever would? It’s not a competition if you already know you're losing. 

Your unused hand clenched under the table, nails digging into your palms, leaving crescent marks that would bruise. Perhaps it would be in a similar state to the bruise inside your chest.

It fucking sucked when you could still feel his gaze on you as you turned back to stare at your half eaten bowl of pasta. Well, excuse of a pasta.

Suddenly you felt your phone ring from beside your bowl and you knew who it was before you even looked.Without looking at the name, you moved your hand to the switch off button and shut it off.

You wished there was such a button for emotions. 

“Shua? Who are you calling?” It was empty in the cafeteria and you thought you might just puke out the pasta when you heard her sweetly call out to him as she looked at him with concern.

But for now, you’d do what seemed right. 

Leaving your bowl of uneaten pasta, you grabbed your bag and phone. With one glance at Joshua whose attention was on you but now turned back to Seungcheol and Seora as they said something, you walked away.

The last thing Joshua heard was the sound of the cafe doors closing and when he turned his attention back to what or specifically the one who had been in his mind since the first time he met, he found you were gone.

At that moment, Hong Joshua felt more miserable than he ever did before.

₊✧ ┆JIHOON.

The lump in your throat got bigger as your vision got blurrier. You knew you should have listened to your friends.

Jihoon isn’t the type of person to be in a relationship with, babes, he doesn’t want that commitment stuff.

It’s what Karina had told you when you told her you were in love with him. Head over heels type.

But when it came to you, the determined type, the one who stood their place no matter what. The unwavering pebble in the ever-so drifting waves of the ocean. You believed that perhaps if you tried hard enough, surely the boy would see your efforts.

It wasn’t just a one-sided thing you knew. Otherwise another thing he was known for was being honest. If he didn’t like it, you were sure you’d have stopped. You didn’t think you were insane for thinking he may just like when you saw him smile at you for bringing him coffee. You didn’t think you were insane for thinking he may just reciprocate your feelings when you saw him hiding his face from complementing his work ethics. Perhaps, it was all in your lovesickness you drew these conclusions and many others. 

So where did you mess up?

“Fucking hell! Just leave me alone and stop acting like a clingy partner!” 

That’s what it got you. It was as though the words slapped you in the face. You surely did feel like it when you flinched taking a step back and your cheeks warmed in a mix of embarrassment as well as hurt. It wasn’t the kind of warmth that pleased you, it was the kind that burned you. Harshly so you felt it in your entire body.

Maybe it was your fault after all, you noticed he was having a bad day and you made the effort to go and comfort him. As you did. 

Maybe maybe maybe, always maybe your fault and always yours. 

Maybe you should listen to him then. 

Inhaling with what dignity you had left, picking up the pieces of your heart that seemed shattered the minute he finished the sentence, you glared at him and spat out words laced with an equally venomous tone.

“Fine then! You’re saying it's my fault but you know what, maybe everyone is bloody right about you! You’re nothing but a coward scared of commitment!”

“The day you’ll realize you’re nothing but a coward who gets scared at the mere thought of being in a relationship and pushes someone away because maybe there is a chance you like them, it’ll be too fucking late because guess what? I’m tired of this stupid push and pull game with you,Jihoon.” 

“Goodbye.”

You hated how your voice cracked when you finished speaking. You hated how you could not stop the tears. You especially hated the look on his face as he saw what he did, what his words did.

With what energy you had left in you, you turned around and walked away.

Enough was enough, you couldn’t win over someone’s heart who wasn’t even sure whose hands it should lay in. 

Yet one thing was sure, yours laid in his hands and right then, you sure felt like he crashed it into pieces. 

♡₊˚ ┆ SEOKMIN.

Seokmin glowed like the moon solely rose up to soak in his light, like the stars twinkled off his radiance. Maybe,you just got too close to the sun, enchanted with its brightness, to not realize just how much it could burn you. He was your sun. No actually the sun,stars, moon whatever celestial body existed perhaps dimmed down compared to him. 

You think it messed you up completely when you kissed him in that truth or dare game surrounded by your mutual friends. You think about the stolen kisses, never more, just kisses in between the times you’d pass by in the hallways, pulling him in a cramped space and leaving with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Again, just kissing. 

Simply put, you were addicted to him. To the way he made you feel. To the way he made you tingle when he kissed you so gently. 

You didn’t want to address the elephant in the room. Or in this case, 

What were you two?

Mingyu asked when you were sitting down in the same circle, just like the first time you’d kissed each other, with the same people. 

You hesitated and then said, uncharacteristically enthusiasm lacing your voice,

“Friends of course! Don't be ridiculous Gyu.”

You didn’t like that word, and it seemed he didn’t either as he looked away,gulping in distaste and a scoff on his face that was usually unnatural for the sunshine like a boy. Seemingly going unnoticed by you but said boy who asked the question noticed and glanced back at you to see if you noticed. He sighed when he saw you not looking at Seokmin but raised an eyebrow as he saw you in a dilemma. 

Right. Friends. Friends who kiss. But still friends…friends?

You tried convincing yourself the rest of that day that adding a label would ruin things. It always does. You should enjoy it while you can, right? It was all in fun?

So why did you feel terribly down when Seokmin refused to talk to you for the rest of the day?

“Seok?” You asked gently and he sighed exhaustingly as he looked at you,

“Please, please don’t…don’t call me that.”

The look of hurt on your face made him hate himself more because why would anyone like to hurt someone they loved?

Before you opened your mouth to speak, he continued,

“I don't think I can do this anymore, this…whatever this is. I am…sorry.”

And without a chance to ask more questions or give any answers, he turned around and walked away.

This was your fault. You hurt him because you couldn’t admit it to yourself that you…that you loved him. 

You loved him more than the universe, you loved him since the day you saw him. You were just scared you'll lose him like the way you lose all your loved ones. You were scared of risks. You were…a coward.

And now it seemed, it was too late to do anything about it.

⠂୨୧ ˚.┆SEUNGKWAN.

Seungkwan and you were fire and water. Milk and lemons. Politicians and caring for the country’s people- Okay too far perhaps and enough of these metaphors of incompatibility to get a point.

You were sworn enemies. Despised each other in the true forms of hate. You hated him so much for the emotions he rose in you that you couldn’t stand him ruining another poor innocent soul with his devious eyes and cunning smile.

Which was exactly what he was doing with the girl wrapped around his left arm, additionally whispering probably lame jokes that made her giggle as though they were the funniest thing on earth. Lee Yuna was her name, you knew her as a cheerleader due to seeing her during your basketball games and also being somewhat acquainted because as a captain, it was apparently in your duty to know everyone especially those involved in the sports sector of your university.

You wish you could cross off knowing Seungkwan but alas, being the midfielder of the boys’ soccer team and the apparent star as well didn’t help in your case. 

“I smell something burning and oh! Would you look at that! It’s an ugly green color too!” Sakura said as she smirked at you, pretending to take a sip of her drink when you directed your glare at her. 

“Fuck. You.” 

“You wish-”

“Oh! hey cap!” A voice said before you could retort to Sakura and you turned to see Vernon smiling at you in greeting. You knew him, of course you knew all of Seungkwan’s little friend group. You frowned at him eyeing him in suspicion. He was Seungkwan’s friend after all.

“Why the frown?” Sakura snorted as he asked you,his attention going to your best friend before she pointed at him and it was as if he understood and nodded.

“Ohhh, I see what’s the matter now.”

“Someone’s” Coughing very fakely, he added, “Jealous.”

Shutting your eyes, you looked at him with a glare enough to make him shut up on his own but still you added,

“Say that again and I’ll-”

“Already giving death threats huh? Maybe you should really go check up on that stick up your ass.” Of fucking course, now is when he decided to show up.

As though his eyes had not been searching for you the moment he stepped in the party. As though he hadn’t noticed you the moment you did. As though it wasn’t just an elaborate plan to rile you up.

You looked at him and fuck. Fuck he made you so angry with how fucking good he looked despite the conditions of the party. His blonde hair shining in the colorful lights and the darn smirk on his face. 

“Kwan. How nice of you to show up! Just the person I was waiting for!” Your sarcasm could be sensed by those around, Sakura’s attempt at hiding her snort and Vernon’s brows raised not going unnoticed. They looked at each other briefly and a knowing look was exchanged.

Here we go again.

“Aw you were waiting for me darling?Hope I wasn’t too late, just got a little busy you see?”

“Clearly.” You said before thinking, the scowl on your face visible and the smugness on his face only grew larger.

“Not fond of me with someone else?” You didn’t even notice how both Vernon and Sakura had left, seemingly only Seungkwan and you, in the midst of drunk teenagers and perhaps lovesick ones, perhaps loners. 

He got closer, closer that made you clench your hands that hung on your sides, leaning down.

“Not fond of me with anyone but you?”

It was as though his voice put you in a trance, or maybe it was how his warm breath tickled your neck. And for the first time in a while you thought of what he said, deeper than you would have ever.

You weren’t sure if you liked the answer. Or what it exactly implied too.

“Stay in your limits Kwan. Don’t fucking- don’t play this shit with me.” You pushed him away as harshly as you could, even if it felt like your hands burned when you thought of what you did. Purposefully ignoring the look in his eyes. Visible hurt and a frown on his face, you turned around, having enough.

“Don’t come after me. Stay with Yuna or whoever, I don’t fucking care.” You don’t know why you said the last sentence. You also don’t want to know why it felt bitter saying it.

With that, you began to walk out, gulping the fresh air that was much needed after being in that suffocating place, suffocating feelings.

As you shut your eyes, you gulped thinking of what you were doing. Why were you so pissed off? 

And maybe you realized, you needed to check on the line that was drawn between Seungkwan and you. Perhaps it’s become too blurry to distinguish it from hatred and love.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

𝐦é𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞 •°. *࿐

🎻 feat: violinist!jun x violinist!reader, victorian era, enemies to lovers (kind of)

🎻 warnings: mentions of physical abuse (not explicit), mentions of cheating (but no one cheated)!!! not the best e2l i'm very sorry

🎻word count: ~11k

🎻 summary: in an era of music and dance, of dukes and arranged marriages, there is only one man whom you fight tooth and nail to play at the same tempo as -- legendary violinist wen junhui. people fall over themselves to dance to a song he plays, and festivities from all over the land request the pleasure of his attendance.

portraits are painted, praises sung of him, but you've only ever known him as your stiffest competition, in a society where outstanding women are frowned upon, reduced to mere puppets in the shadow of men. yet, amid domineering voices and too-loud presences, you have no option but to understand that he was the melody that played his way into your heart.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1870, November 11th

"Your Grace," You reach for the Duchess' outstretched hand as you exit the carriage, your other hand lifting your gown, the horses skittering as they reach a complete stop.

"My dear Y/N! It has been too long since you have graced our court," The Duchess seems pleased to meet you as she clutches your hand tightly, you squeezing it in return.

"It has been long," You agree. "It is an honour to play for the annual ball once more."

"Nonsense!" She trills a laugh, her hand coming up to cover herself. "Truly, it is our greatest blessing to be able to hear your music."

You smile in gratitude as she leads you towards the palace. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm looking forward to performing for you as well."

"I'll have someone send up your bags to your rooms," She adds, continuing to walk you in. "The estate is busy today, what with the company we're having... and the two greatest violinists of our time!"

Your smile freezes on your face. It can't be, it's not possible--

"Of course, we're not expecting Sir Wen Junhui just yet, but I like the staff to be well-prepared-"

Wen Junhui. Of course, it had to be him.

"My dear? Are you alright?" The Duchess asks you, concern on her face. "I didn't have you just now."

"My apologies, Your Grace," You immediately say, a smile plastered on your face. "I...I must have been tired. Carriage journeys have never really been my preference."

"Of course, how could I forget!" The duchess sighs, before turning to the servants trailing behind. "Ensure Miss Y/N has everything she needs. She must be in tip-top condition for the ball." At the servants' bow, she turns back to you. "I must return to the preparations," she tells you. "Will you be alright heading to your rooms by yourself? The servants will lead you."

"Of course, Your Grace," You curtsy. "You really didn't have to lead me in, it was too much trouble. Please, I wish not to disturb you further."

Again, her tinkling laugh. "What words! You could never be a trouble to me, my dear friend."

You bid your farewell and as she leaves, the servants motioning to lead you to your chambers.

You shake your head lightly as you resume the walk. Wen Junhui, in the same place as you. What luck.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"You two surely have met, given your professions," The Duke tells you as he beckons to a tall man you know all too well. "It is my understanding that you both played for His Majesty's coronation the previous year."

"Indeed we did," His velvet-like voice, thinly masking his hostility, returns. "It was charming to be in her company."

"As if." Your mutter, thankfully, goes unheard by the Duke. Junhui, however, picks up on it, what with those sensitive ears of his that supposedly make him an oh-so-amazing violinist, and raises his eyebrows at you.

The Duke excuses himself soon after to find his wife, which leaves you and Junhui standing alone. His waistcoat, laced with what you recognise to be one of the finest silks in the market, rustles with his movement as he turns and faces you properly.

He bows to you in mock politeness. "My pleasure to be in your delightful company once more, Miss L/N."

You roll your eyes. "Skip the formality, for our sakes."

Amusement laces his cat-like features. "If you say so, treasure." The term of endearment stirs more irritation in you.

The hostility between you two dated back to your teens. Fresh out in the world and eager for opportunity, you tried to become the court violinist in the royal orchestra, to prove yourself not just as a talent but as a woman, only to be turned away with the memo that a violinist had already been chosen, the only one the court was looking for, and it had been Junhui, all lanky limbs but with the fervour of a highly determined seventeen-year-old.

And at the birthday celebration of a royal you didn't remember, for which your family watched from the gates, you heard him play for the very first time. The symphony the orchestra had played, the seamless chords and semiquavers that had flowed from his relentless fingers on the strings, and the firm press of the glowing horsehair of his bow had impressed every person in the audience. Except for you.

No, you were bitter, so, so, bitter, that the one chance you had strived for your whole life had been taken from right through your fingers.

From then on, you had been known, amongst many in your small town, not very kindly, to be the "young lady who had dared to pit herself against Wen Junhui".

Your mother and father had taken the remarks in shame, beginning to discourage you from pursuing music. Yet, you had taken no heed, continuing to find all ways to continue what had become your lifeline.

And as he soared, both in skill and in fame, to become the most popular violinist of the age, you worked equally hard at your art, staining your fingers with cuts and your wrists with injury as you strived to reach his heights.

And you had run into luck, for an academy run by a sharp-tongued man scouted you at a performance at your local church. Before long, you were on the stage, flitting from event to celebration, just as you dreamed. You played concertos and partitas to your heart's content, did opening acts for renowned orchestras, and headlined the stage in the courts of various nations, eager to keep climbing the ladder towards the goal that was Junhui.

But no matter your greviances, you truly enjoyed the stage. It was everything you had. You took pride in your work, you blushed at compliments, and you appreciated every chance there was to step on the stage and perch the four-stringed instrument on your shoulder.

Then came the day when you met your competitor for the very first time, performing at a gala held for a local lord. He'd looked at you, no doubt recognising you based on the gossip circulating around, and raised an eyebrow in teasing recognition before shaking his head and simply turning away. No formalities were exchanged, even though you were fully intending to be civil.

From then on, you both maintained a stoic but unspoken rivalry, making sniping remarks when you had the misfortune of meeting. Yet, years after it all started, here he was, standing in front of you, on a stage you would soon share.

And as luck would have it, a courtier walked over. Park, you remembered his last name with some effort. He had been the first to object when the court invited you to play at this ball. The papers had published his account of why you shouldn't be involved (boringly long, you thought).

"My, my, if it isn't the two legends of our time," He drawled, in a voice that grated on your nerves. "I must say, having you both on the same stage is rather...shocking."

Junhui raises his brows. "And what prompted that belief?"

"Oh, but doesn't everyone know of your rivalry, sir! Years upon years of competition of talent."

You let out a light laugh, leaning forward to the smug courtier to jest. "And which of us would you prefer, sir?"

His smirk is nothing short of hateful, you decide, when he replies, "Captivating as your music is, my charming lady, I find Sir Wen Junhui's music simply...breathtaking. Perhaps a fine man, bestowing his heavenly talents upon us all, is much welcomed now."

Junhui's smirk is even more hateful, you determine when he walks past you, Courtier Park in tow, his hand raising to pat your shoulder, which you brush off roughly, saying under his breath, "Better luck next time. Looks like you won't be playing in his court any time soon."

"Rot in hell."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"Oh, how wonderful that you both will be sharing the stage this time!" The Duchess claps her hand in appreciation after each of you plays excerpts of your performance pieces.

"It's an honour," Junhui replies, bowing low. You curtsey, noting the way the Duke nods at Courtier Park after.

"Refresh yourselves," The Duke instructs. "We will see you at the celebrations. We're looking forward to both of your performances."

You can't bring yourself to look interested when Junhui turns to you. "As am I." The smug, arrogant twinkle in his eyes does not go amiss.

You curtsey once more and at the couple's nods, stride out of the room, Junhui behind you.

"The Divertimento No.17 by Mozart," He muses. "A fitting choice. You always liked the cheer."

"And you could only dream of appreciating them."

"Snippy as ever, treasure," Junhui answers patronisingly, as easy as counting.

"Yes, well, you are no different from the last time we met," You reply coldly, turning a corner. "Stop following me."

"Our rooms are nearby, treasure," He drawls, leaning against the wall. "Remind me again why you're being so delightful?"

"Why, huh," You sneer back, turning to face him. "Where to start? Why are you even here?"

"Why am I here?" He echoes. "My dear, I was invited. As were you. Through our wonderful years of being around each other, you would know I dislike performing for the royals. I agreed because I owed His Grace a favour."

"Of course you did," You mutter. "Well, I'll get going. Go find your next person to terrorise, you take joy in that anyway."

His chuckles go on as you walk off, the skirts of your dress fanning out behind you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

Notes, one after another, flow like water out of his bow, in rapid semiquavers and strong crotchets, chords easing through the strings as easy as the alphabet.

You can't deny Wen Junhui is a phenomenal performer.

It's two waltzes before your piece comes up, and the guests of the ball are mingling, filling in dance cards, getting to know one another. You see a few familiar faces, ladies of society whom you'd seen on other occasions. The Duke and the Duchess took the dance floor earlier, and are now nursing glasses of carefully brewed liquor, laughing and entertaining.

The head of the estate's entertainment announces your appearance, and you step up in front of the orchestra. At your cue, the piano launches into the familiar cheerful chord.

And off you go from there. You laser-focus yourself on every note, the vibrato you'd honed to perfection. And thankfully, all goes without a hitch, leading to resounding applause as people break away from their dance partners.

The Duchess bustles to you after you bow and get down. "My dear, that was magical."

"Oh," You smile at her gushing compliment. "Thank you. I enjoyed myself."

"And so you should," The Duke encourages, walking up next to his wife. "What a stunning job you've done."

The Duchess hums in agreement before exclaiming. "Right! I was coming to say, the governors want you and Sir Wen Junhui to dance together."

You stiffen. "I'm sorry?"

“As a sign of goodwill,” The Duke says. “Not very customary, given that you have no real ties to each other, but we think it would be nice. Not to mention, you both ought to loosen up and enjoy yourselves tonight. Do you not agree?”

You’re about to politely decline, but an arm slides around your arm and tugs you closer. Just a little. “Of course we do. Thank you for the offer, Your Grace.” Junhui nods at the beaming couple.

The Duchess smiles at you as her husband nods, satisfied and ready to help her to the dance floor again. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“I—”

“Hush,” Junhui croons as he sweeps you into his arms and across the floor in an elegant turn, the beginning notes of another popular waltz playing out. “We are meant to revel. Look at the atmosphere we’ve created. We ought to enjoy the fruition of our work, no?”

“Shut up.”

He smirks slightly at you. “As you please. You’re not a bad dancer, I see.”

You curse silently. In the distraction of the banter, your feet had automatically stepped alongside his, rhythmically and physically attuned as one — one body and one being.

Heavens, you hated it.

“Fall silent at praises?” He raises his brows.

You snort. “Why should I if it comes from you?”

He gasps in mock hurt. “You wound me, truly.”

“Oh, forgive me,” You simper, a sweet smile on your face. “Whatever should I do with that information?”

And back and forth it went again, till the last cadenza played. His confident and suave digs, your sarcastic and impatient snipes.

He lets go of you as the crowd starts mingling again, and smiles. “It was a pleasure. We’ll meet again.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your palm, winks and disappears into the throng, leaving you looking appalled at your hand.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1871, January 17th

“You want me to what?”

“Keep your voice down,” Your father urges.

“Oh, forgive me for being surprised that you’re marrying me off.”

“Daughter,” He says sternly, putting down his paper. “It’s Merchant Park’s son. A finely educated, young man. You will not do any worse with him. At the very least, it would make you seem more like the desired lady you are.”

“And what of my music?” You demand. “I have to put a stop to my dreams? On your order?”

“Dear,” Your mother cautions, then addresses your father. “Husband, we should tell her the truth. The deal is signed, anyway.”

Deal. You’re being sent to some stranger over a deal.

“We are not doing well, you know this,” Your father explains.

“I have told you, the commissions I get from the Lords and the palace—”

Your father holds up his hand. “Let me finish.”

“We need help to keep our estate and our rights,” He continues. “Merchant Park has very kindly provided a deal for us: a monetary exchange in return for a bride. As Mr. Nathaniel Park has proved himself a true man, we saw no reason to turn down such a win-win offer: a groom for our daughter and enough to sustain us.”

You clench your fists. “And you didn’t think to ask my opinion on all this? When I am the one to marry?”

Your father eyes you. “Daughter, things in other households are far worse. Some do not even know until the night before the matrimony. You might consider yourself lucky.”

You look to your mother, but she trains her eyes on her tea and doesn’t reply.

A painful lump forms in your throat. “Is there no other way?”

Your father shakes his head. “Not one as beneficial as this.”

“And will it ensure prosperity and stability for the rest of your days?”

He nods. “We will do much better than before.”

You blow out a resigned breath. “When will it be?”

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1871, March 1st

Church bells ring, shouts are heard.

You marry Mr Nathaniel Park in the nearest church to his estate. It has been the talk of the town, and throngs have turned up to see a wealthy merchant's son marry a talent of the nation.

Everyone, except for your families, seem to be under the impression that you had been seeing each other in secret for years, and had finally emerged to take the next step.

It’s all nonsense, every last detail, but the very same nonsense made it to the papers by next morning.

You leave your family home that night to start your life with Nathaniel.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, June 28th

You were bored out of your mind.

Your violin was locked up goodness knows where, and Nathaniel had explicitly said he had no intention of letting you return to the stage as a career.

It had killed you a little inside, but it was to little surprise. Men like Nathaniel and his equally unbearable father were common. And you had fully expected to be controlled and restricted in return for your family’s benefit.

Except you had severely underestimated how much time the violin occupied. With nothing to do and only so much overseeing of the estate you could do, you were about to go insane.

Worse, Nathaniel had been in a dark mood as people in the streets had started gossiping.

Because while Wen Junhui had continued to travel far and wide to showcase his talents, his rival (yes, you) had suddenly stopped doing the same — so suddenly that it was downright suspicious.

And your temporary reprieve came when an invite for a local lord’s ball came by the estate. In it, it urged for both your attendance and a a suggestion for you to perform. It seemed like a good chance for Nathaniel to turn the tide and assure society that you were still fulfilling your dream, and to quell any rumours.

Your fingers were rusty, so it was to your shock when Nathaniel allowed you to play and practice for a couple of hours.

“For the ball,” He warned. “Only for the ball. I cannot have people speculating why my wife has suddenly stopped performing publicly.”

It was better than nothing, you surmise.

And so it is to your greatest pride that you stand once again on the stage, performing a sonata you’d long since learnt by heart, the guests clapping and in awe.

And after you get off the stage, you use the start of yet another dance to allow yourself to be whisked away by your husband. But your impatience returns once you see who your dance partner is.

“I thought I’d come keep you company since it has been a while,” Wen Junhui smiles lazily at you as he captures your hand in his. “Congratulations are in order, I see.”

You shrug.

“Funny how the papers said you’d been seeing each other for a long while. A secret dalliance, did that paperboy say? Wonder where that came from.”

"Be quiet."

He does not, in fact, keep quiet.

“Dashing man,” He nods towards your husband, who is doing an awful job of hiding his scowl at you dancing with another. “Tell him to loosen up and smile a little. After all, his wife is the star of tonight.”

“Shut up.”

“Not proud of your matrimony?” He has a saccharine tone which you decide you really hate.

“You know nothing.”

“Huh.” His grin drops, no longer pleasant, as you take another turn around the floor, falling perfectly into place with other dancers. “Someone is snippy today.”

“Would you please stop?” You demand hotly. It’s not as if you would admit right this second that this marriage was what you want. “If you have nothing genuinely good to say, why don’t you—”

"Oh, so you want me to be quiet, huh?"

His eyes are now suddenly simmering with both mild anger and something else, perhaps impatience. With that same burning expression on his face, he grips your hand and hauls you toward him.

The abrupt and rough action makes you release a squeak of surprise, and his other hand catches your head in time to adjust it on his chest.

You struggle. "We are in public! Unhand me this instant!"

"I told you, be quiet."

"What?!"

"Be quiet and listen," He demands, pressing your head to his chest, using the throng of dancers and people to hide you from Nathaniel. "Listen and tell me what you hear."

You scowl up at him. "Is this a joke?"

"What do you hear?"

"Your heartbeat, like a normal living person?" You snarl. "What more is there?"

"Listen again."

After a brief pause, you ask him, "Why is it racing?"

He glares at you. "Exactly."

"What do you mean, exactly? That was not even my questi-"

"My God, use your brain for once," He sighs impatiently. "If I truly hated you, would I have picked you as my dance partner? Would I have offered you my company and my well-wishes? Would I, Y/N?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"Forget it," he snarls, biting his lip in impatience. "Go and be with your husband. Last I heard, he was looking for your whereabouts." He strides away, leaving you stunned.

And even as Nathaniel meets you and berates you for leaving his side, and as you get back into the homebound carriage with him, your mind stays only on Junhui.

If I truly hated you, would I have picked you as my duet partner?Would I have offered you my company and my well-wishes?

Would I, Y/N?

You lean your head on the back of the carriage, the lights of the city wide awake, even with the lateness of the hour, your mind whirling with thoughts you didn't know were true.

His racing heartbeat, your racing mind. He didn't hate you. The real question now was... did you hate him? Still?

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 4th

It's a rainy afternoon when everything falls apart. Nathaniel is in a horrible mood, and you're about to lose your mind.

No music, since he took it away from you once you got home. No money to seek any kind of entertainment, since he's in charge of the estate's finances. You can't even go out on a ride, since he's ordered the footmen to keep you within the property.

“What’s going on between you and Mr. Wen?” You look up at his seething question as he strides in and throws the morning paper down on the table in front of you. “It has been months and columns are still writing about you two!”

“What am I supposed to do, tell the writers to stop?” You ask drily, and a sudden strong fist grabs your arm and a blunt impact is unceremoniously struck to your face.

You freeze, blood running cold.

Nathaniel doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest that he just hit his wife.

He grunts in displeasure. “Heavens, I’ll have to explain these articles to our family again.” He makes a tutting sound at you and strides out of the room, massaging his hand and rotating his wrist.

Amidst everything, the painful swell of your cheek and arm, the humiliation you feel, and the anger that courses through you, you can only think of one thing.

One person.

And so Junhui has the shock of his life when you turn up, panting and soaked in the downpour, at the gates of his estate. Your fine gown is as good as ruined, your updo plastered over your face. Your makeup is running, and Junhui wastes no time pulling you indoors.

"I didn't know where else to go," You murmur, strength sapped, and he says nothing, only signals to his servants to get towels and new clothes.

As he surveys you, his eyes widen in disgust and shock, and he takes your shoulders in his warm and gentle grip. "Was this him? Sir Park's son?"

At your unsettling silence, he repeats his question, more firmly this time. "Did he do this to you?"

For the first time in maybe your life, you meet his eyes fully. There is anger in his eyes, so raw and so deep, that you feel your eyes start burning again.

As you bow your head to blink the tears away, he lifts your chin to meet his eyes once more. "You have never shied away from me. Of all times, my treasure, I would beg you not to hide now."

You stay silent, and he repeats his question, each word more strained than the last.

You nod imperceptibly, confirming his worst fears.

"God," He groans, leaning forward to hold your hands in his large ones. "If I were a swordsman and not a musician, he would be gutted like a fish."

You try to crack a smile, but it just doesn't come out right. "You're not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be," He returns. "But whilst we are on this subject, perhaps my bow could do the job. It's sharp enough."

That finally coaxes a small, broken smile out of you, and his shoulders release slightly at the sight.

His servants return with the requested items, and after pushing you into a room with an adjoining chamber to dry off and get changed, he sits you down as he tends to you. Still shaken, you just let him, and you watch silently as he presses a small makeshift ice pack to your face, made of soft towels and crushed ice meant for drinks.

Occasionally, he brushes a hand through your hair to detangle it and let it dry. It's so... domestic, painfully so, and you're fully aware of how hard your heart is pounding.

"I hate you," His voice suddenly comes through, and you look up as they register. "I hate you so much, you know that?"

Your voice is hoarse as you reply. "I know. I know it all."

"I hate that you're here, in my estate. I detest the sight of you. I hate that we're here, only being civil under circumstances like these, and I loathe beyond comprehension that he did this to you. I hate it so much, but I despise you the most for not coming to my door the second it happened."

Your eyes sting again with tears, and he reaches up to wipe at them, his eyes the most tender you've ever seen.

"Do not shed tears for a man so undeserving," He murmurs. "It is unbecoming, you know."

"I know," You choke. "I didn't want to."

"Forget about him." His voice resounds like thunder. "You should not remain with a monster like him for your family. You are your own person, and your fate is in your hands."

He turns his attention back to the bruise on your arm, tending to it with the same gentleness and precision a tinker had with music boxes.

He called for medicine, clothed and fed you, only to hear you confess three hours later. "I must return before dawn. He will be seeking me out, and I can't have him come to your estate and make trouble."

"No." His firm refusal shot a pang into your heart.

"Junhui. I must."

"You will not return to that hellhole. It's my order."

"I have to, my family-"

"Would want their daughter to be whole and hale." His voice is deep and fierce, so much angrier than you've ever heard.

"I would not see you ruin yourself for a godforsaken life with him. If he can hit you once, and to this extent," he motions to you, "He will do it again and again. Each time even harder than the last. You will die at his hands!"

"The deal-"

"The money is the last thing on my mind!" He exclaims, now agitated. "I do not care about the riches or the deal your family has made with anyone. I just want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. Are you happy, locked up in a great lonely house with him, giving up on the art you have honed all your life, becoming his puppet and a shell of what you once were, only to be hit as if you are worth nothing?"

You shake your head, as if trying to shake off his words. "I know, you're right, Junhui, god! You are right about it all. But my family... they are everything to me. I worked all this time just so I could go home to them someday and live our days out in comfort. I...I cannot forsake them now. Not when they will be thrown into the streets and shamed if they do not honour the contract."

"Then stay here with me," He pleads. "I will handle all of it. I'll make sure no one gets hurt. You can perform and do everything to your heart's desire and I will never hold you back. Please."

"I cannot burden you with my issues!" You shout, choking back a poorly concealed sob, hands reaching to your hair to tug on it in frustration. "Please, Junhui, please, just... let me be. Live your life and let me live mine."

"You chose to come here tonight. Yet now you ask me to stay out this. How can I, if you're making a choice that may very well get you killed?!"

"I will not. You know that. I'm strong enough to handle it."

"Do you even know what you are handling?" He demands hotly. "A violent barbarian who knows only use his fists against a blameless lady and her family -- do you have any idea how horrendous that sounds?!"

You take a deep breath. "I-"

"I will open my gates to you and your family. I will give you my home, my sanctuary and protection, anything you will ever need. But in return, all I ask is that you leave that place. Leave someone who will never care for you the way you should be cared for."

"I can't, I can't. The world is in my way, his family-- they would never view me or respect me the way I want. Not as a musician who worked her way to the top. They will see me as a mere town-girl who seduced him for money and ran off with it. Everything I've done to make sure people never see me that way-- I can't handle that."

"And so you pick them, their satisfaction and influence, over your own fate?" He asks incredulously. "That strong, stubborn, steadfast woman I know -- where is she?"

"I am not picking. It is my only option! You have seen how the governors and men of the court see me, even as a musician in comparison to you. I would suffer that tenfold, and worse, my family will go the same path. I would rather die than allow it to happen, even if I must suffer."

The whole room goes silent, save for your breathing and his ragged pants.

His nose flares and his eyes narrow. His voice turns colder than the cruel winters of the land. "Is that what you truly mean?"

"..Yes. Yes."

After what seems like an eternity, he nods, so slightly you almost don't catch it. His lips curl, whether in disgust or mock of your decision, you do not know. He looks the most disappointed you've ever seen him. "Fine. Then let him destroy you. Let the people who do not matter, do not care about you tear you to shreds. Perhaps you were right, and I was the one meddling too much. I apologise." He starts walking away.

"Junhui-" You begin as you clutch his arm, dread running down your spine, but he simply looks at your hands wrapped around his with the indifference you thought was all he had. He looks at your pleading eyes, your shaking posture. He wants nothing more than to tell you how he feels, the immense frustration that you just won't let him be there for you... but through his raging emotions, his mouth stays shut.

"You can leave as you want," He says, all the emotion from prior gone. He finally looks you in the eye, his own betraying only the smallest hint of anguish and something you can't quite place. "I will not hold you back if that's what you desire. I just hope you will be happy with your decision, Y/N."

And then he's gone, leaving you to sink down in the middle of the room and cry into your hands, the finery of the gown he clothed you in now a mess around you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 5th

"You have returned."

Not quite a question, but you nod to your husband, who is currently lounging on a newly embroidered couch, eyeing you up and down with something close to disdain in his eyes.

"Costume yourself. Conceal everything well. There is another ball tonight in honour of a newly debuted painter, and we must attend."

Fantastic. Yet another function where you would be on his arm, hang on to his every word, pretend to love him. "Must-"

Nathaniel raises his hand and you flinch. He lowers it, head tilting. "You heard me."

You head up to your chambers in silence.

Your tears flow as you dress yourself as instructed, every puff of makeup lowered to your face doing a terrible job of hiding the marks on your face, the exhausted swell of your eyes.

Fine. Then let him destroy you, Junhui had said bitterly.

He probably already had, you thought. In ways no one would ever see.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"Sir Park!" Court ladies and gentlemen alike hailed your husband as he helped you out of the carriage, painting the picture of a perfect husband. You see your mother, dressed in finery, looking awkward and uncomfortable with the current company. You start excusing yourself to walk to her, but Nathaniel holds you to him, glaring down at you with a fake grin plastered on his face. "What are you doing?" He hisses furiously under his breath.

"I am going to see my mother," You hiss back through gritted teeth, venom in your voice, a sweet smile fixed on your face as if you were exchanging an intimate secret. "Or would you prefer I scream for help, darling?"

He releases you immediately. "Be back swiftly. People will wonder of your whereabouts."

Without responding, you make your way through the crowd, smiling and bowing slightly to the upperclassmen who greet you. When you reach your mother, she visibly relaxes, reaching out to clasp your hand.

"My dear girl," She says, trying to smile. "You seem to have lost weight. Are you well?"

"Very, Mother," You reply, through a fake smile.

Concern shines in her eyes, and she tries to continue. "Daughter. Don't make the same mistakes I did, trying to keep defying your father. There are times where we must step back, and you might find that... life gets easier. The frustration will ease."

Would the frustration and pain of your marriage really fade? Would you, like Junhui insisted, be reduced to a hollow shell, numbed to everything and allow yourself to be treated like an unloved rag doll? Would you, after everything you did to make a woman out of yourself... become a meek and obedient arm candy, the one thing you never wanted to be?

As you pull away from your mother with a quiet excuse, you hear pleasantries being called to a new guest, and you turn to find Junhui, who clearly just entered the ballroom, staring directly at you.

You're not sure if your eyes look imploring enough, but it doesn't seem to work. Junhui turns away, and for the rest of the evening, you do not catch his eye.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 21st

Days pass and you still play the perfect wife.

The order is exactly the same. You attend balls, play one or two customary pieces for Nathaniel to receive the oohs and ahhs of your talent, and at the end of the night, you return to your great, lonely house and sleep alone.

Soon after you got home from the ball, Nathaniel received an invitation to a business conference with the lords of Sicily. He had, after careful deliberation, decided to bring you.

Fine, you think. At least with the business, he might be too busy to keep you in line all day.

Nathaniel hasn't hit you since that night, but you're constantly on tenterhooks, on edge that his anger might blow once more. It's a ticking time bomb at home, and not much better outside. It isn't as if you have anyone to lament to about your marital troubles.

Your impatience is getting worse day by day. You already know the deal could easily be nullified, with the riches you know your family has received, but your parents still have no intention of setting you free. And so, on a warm Tuesday afternoon, three springtimes after it all started, you make your decision, rash and unchecked.

"I want to leave."

"What?"

"I cannot live like this. Not as your trophy wife. I wasn't born for this."

"And where will you go?" Nathaniel sneers. "Who will have you, a once-married woman?"

"It matters not where I go," You shoot, "You have no business knowing. As long as I am away from you, you asshole!"

"Oh, I would be very entertained," He replies coldly, a mocking smile set upon his hateful face. "I would like to know which man would take in the likes of you, even if you go to Sicily and start anew. Or maybe Sir Wen Junhui has already defiled-"

You slap him hard. He clutches his cheeks, turning red from the impact and from his rage. "You dirty little rat-"

"You are the vermin that thinks that way," You seethe. "You are the problem here. Not me, not Junhui, not my family. This isn't about the deal we made with your father anymore. It is purely because I am a woman that you are behaving this way. If anything is being defiled here, it is my dignity and your reputation."

He scoffs. "And you really believe some good Samaritan will voluntarily take you in and give you a bright future? Even if you believe so, you will end up the same way, in their kitchens, whether in Sicily or anywhere in the world. I am doing you a favour."

He steps closer. "But perhaps you already have someone in mind? ...Sir Wen Junhui, perhaps?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "What's this got to do with him?"

"Oh, you don't fool me," He laughs humourlessly. "You think I never see the way his eyes move to you when you're in the same room? You think I don't notice how you glance at him? And those few moments at the painter's ball last month. Care to explain that, my dear wife?"

"We are not on good terms." You hiss, stepping up to him. "Shame on you that you think otherwise, because there is nothing going on. I am no cheating liar."

"Perhaps not," He muses. "But I would pay good money to see what he thinks of you."

You stand your ground. "I want a divorce. That's all I want. I can return all the money you want to you in due course. Just set me free."

"Let's see what the courts think of that," He challenges, and you clench your teeth, anger overriding you like never before. "Your whole family will crash and burn with you. All because of your erroneous ways."

You stride away from him, out the estate doors, and his condescending, bitter voice resounds in your head, eyes wide in the face of your rebellion. "You don't know men the way you think you do, Y/N. Mark my words. Wen Junhui will not take you in no matter what he says. Women only have one fate, and you sealed it the moment we married."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

Junhui opens the door and swears it's deja vu.

Mere weeks ago he did the same thing, only for you to break his heart in a span of a few hours. He surmises that it must be the same situation tonight.

Nevertheless, he opens the door to your panting figure wordlessly and lets you enter. You look sheepish as you adjust your gown, body heaving with the effort it took to run here, but he does nothing.

No, if he gave in and comforted you, he did not think he could risk another heartbreak.

You beat him to it. "I'm sorry I came," You start hesitantly. He stays silent, so you continue.

"Nathaniel, he-"

"Forgive me, but I do not wish to hear details of your marriage. You said it yourself, your life is not my concern." He knows he is being petty, but this was the only way he knew he would not overstep.

"It-"

"What more do you have to say to me?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the bell of his estate rings and you glance at him, petrified. You mouth the words as if the visitor would hear, Nathaniel? His jaw clenches instinctively.

He quickly ushers you into another room, a safe distance from the sitting room where they would still be in earshot. "Stay put," He warns.

He leaves for the main door, and you can hear him exchanging greetings with a man's voice, all too familiar.

It is Nathaniel. You expected it.

"Please, sit. Can I offer you a drink?"

"No need for formality. I am not here as Sir Park's son, but as Y/N's husband."

"...I see. Well, what can I do for you?"

"We are both gentlemen, Sir Wen," You hear your husband say. "Let us get right to the point. You harbour illicit feelings for my wife, do you not?"

"...I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Junhui's voice has turned cold. Nathaniel should be afraid, but he looks Junhui squarely in the eye.

"I told her this and I'll tell you too, Sir Wen," Your husband's voice is careless, as if he doesn't care what he's saying. "She is mine. And I have rules about the women in my life. They will not look at other men. Their life will change to suit mine. And if anyone tries to defy that, defy me, I will tear them down. You, my dear musician, are no exception."

The room goes silent for a moment. "Well, I am glad we straightened this out." You can practically feel Nathaniel smiling, smug in his arrogance. "Y/N will be heading to Sicily soon, and I must ready our travel plans. Goodness, what a world we live in!"

His footsteps scuff the ground as he gets up, then stop. "This was a nice meeting, but the next time we chat about this, I will not be as friendly." You hear his chair creak. "Well, as you were. Good evening."

"You do not deserve any part of Y/N." Junhui mutters.

"...I'm sorry?"

"I said, you do not deserve her." Junhui repeats, each word firmer than the last. "If you knew her at all, those vile, vulgar words should never have left you. Had you not wed her just for her talent and face value, you would have seen her for who she is -- a strong, talented, and truly selfless woman. She gave up her music, her lifeline, to marry a man she barely knows just for her family's sake. If you ever bothered to observe her beyond your conceited and overbearing ego, you would have found bliss with her by your side."

"...I knew coming to an agreement so quickly was suspicious." YOur husband laughs, slightly cruelly. "And you would know all that of my wife, because?"

"I do not know her as well as I'd like, but I know better than to let go of such a precious being." Junhui's words do not cease, each one hitting home hard. "The innate truth is, neither you nor I deserve her. I will not lie that she showed up at my estate the night you laid your filthy hands on her, and nothing has ever made me angrier. So I swear, from now on, not a single hand will land upon her, or be damned this nation and its money, I will make it my life's duty to ensure you never again see the light of day."

Nathaniel chuckles, as if Junhui's words are but a gust of wind, as insignificant as one raindrop in a thunderstorm. You cannot stay and hear any more of this. So you creep towards the nearest window, ajar to let air in. As you crawl out, careful not to hook the hem of your gown on the hinges, and flee for the back gate, you hear your husband croon. "There must be more than meets the eye, Mr Wen. Although, I hope you know where you stand. Y/N will never belong to you."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 24th

"Thank you for coming, Mother," You try to smile at her, as she sits across you.

"You have never invited me over before," She says brightly. "What did you seek me out for?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay..." She comments, putting her teacup down. "Go on."

"I wish to leave Nathaniel."

"What?" Your mother is beyond alarmed, sitting forward and furrowing her brows. "Daughter, you know--"

"He hits me," You blurt out, and her eyes widen. Perhaps not the most graceful or discreet way to expose your suffering, but to you, there was no nice way to say it, no matter how much it hurt.

"He-- Y/N--"

"And someone else came and saved me. In so many ways, even the ways I did not know I could be saved.”

"Wh-" Your mother looks truly befuddled, and in any other situation, you might have laughed at the astounded look on her face.

"Wen Junhui." You continue blabbering. "He has seen me for who I am, at my best and at my worst, and he... he has healed me. He told me the truth that no one bothered to say, and he taught me that... that my fate is my own. Mother... I do not think I can live by the words of others. I think... I think that would make me miserable beyond belief."

Your mother is silent for what seems like an eternity, and you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

She finally opens her mouth to speak, and your breath catches.

“Of all people,” She murmurs, before giving you a soft smile. “I never would have thought that Mr. Wen would be the one to catch your eye.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation. “Life works in mysterious ways.”

“No.” She disagrees. “It has its own wiles and ways, but everything… everything happens for a reason. We were foolish to try forcing your happiness, weren’t we?”

You shake your head again. “I know you want the best for me.”

“I do, and I am glad you trust that, Daughter,” Your mother says softly, and you look at her, the gentleness of it all making your eyes glass over. “And if the best for you can be found in Mr. Wen…”

She dabs at her eyes carefully to prevent the kohl from running, and shoots a smile at you, genuine and loving. “Who are we to disagree?”

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 27th

"You'll need more coats. Those dresses of yours are so overbearing." Nathaniel comments as your maids fold both of your clothes into trunks.

You grit your teeth but say nothing, as you pick out your jewellery.

"And this," He holds up another gown, one of your personal favourites, a sweet baby-blue confection with small gems sewed meticulously within. "Outrageous. Have it burned, my wife will not be seen in things as skimpy as th-"

"Shut up!" You can't recognise your shout. "Just keep your mouth shut for a moment, won't you?"

He advances upon your retort, eyes glittering. "What did you just say to me?"

"I will not go to Sicily with you." You say resolutely.

He starers at you for a moment, then bursts into laughter. "You? Turning Sicily down? How amusing."

"I'll never go anywhere with you." You snap, backing away. The maids hesitantly put down their work, then proceed to leave the room, leaving just the two of you.

"Don't be ridiculous, wife," Nathaniel says condescendingly. "Sicily would be good for us to start over. Too many nuisances here."

As he laughs and returns to selecting clothes, you scoff. "You're one to talk. You ruined my life, you took everything dear to me away."

He throws down the possessions, a loud shout bouncing off the walls. "Understand one thing. You are nothing, you understand? I could crush you and all that you have under my boot all in a day's work."

You push back, enraged. "Don't you project your emotions and problems on me. Junhui was right. You don't know any part of me. Not what I love, you're nothing that any sane person wants or needs. You're human vitriol."

"Junhui, Junhui, Junhui," Nathaniel sneers. "So you do know he's in love with you. Why else would you allow him to poison your mind? That pest--"

You punch him in the mouth.

You punch your husband, a rich and influential merchant's son, square in the mouth.

Now, you're not a strong woman, and in any fight, you'd be knocked out like a light. But given that Nathaniel did not expect any form of violence or pushback from you, when he was so close to taking you to Sicily permanently, he stumbles back in surprise and clutches his jaw.

Taking advantage of his confusion, you run.

You run and run and run, to the stables, upon a mare, and urge it out towards Junhui's estate.

So you do know he's in love with you.

This was the only time you wanted -- yearned -- to believe Nathaniel Park.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"You must think my home is a vacant shelter," Junhui comments as he lets you in.

He stiffens when you say nothing. "What is going-"

"Junhui." You lock eyes with him, firm and headstrong. "Are you in love with me?"

He stops moving entirely for five moments before chuckling. It sounds so artificial.

"No, that idea is repulsive."

"Junhui-"

"No."

"Junhui." You take his hands and plead. "Tell me the truth, and only the truth. Is it true, that you are in love with me?"

He tries swatting your hands away. "Please stop. Leave."

"I will the second you tell me that you are not in love with me. I will disappear from your sight for the rest of my life, I will leave for Sicily without looking back, and I will never return. Just answer me, just this once. Are you in love with me?"

His resistance snaps as he whirls to you.

"I've been crazy for you the moment I laid eyes on you!" He chokes out, eyes burning with emotion, hands flying to wipe furiously at them. "I couldn't fathom the thought that you hated me from the moment you saw me, goodness knows why, but I figured -- if that was the only way I'd see you for who you were, wild and free and beautiful, instead of the other ladies in court who put up facades to be around me -- I'd take it all. Whatever you gave me, I'd take and play along."

He swallows before he continues. "And yet it wasn't enough. Competing on and off the stage with you. I was in Rome when I received word of your union with that...that monster. I hated myself then. I regretted immensely that I had not asked for your hand before someone else did. I must have been complacent that you would always be around."

"Y-You...you never sought me out." You say softly, stunned at the revelation.

"It was a marriage between a renowned merchant's son and the world's best violinist, celebrated by all... I could not compare. Love would not cut it. Love would never cut it."

You could not help but cup his face, wiping the tears that leaked from his earnest eyes. "I truly believed you would find happiness with that man, treasure. I genuinely wished you well, even if it broke me." He whispers.

"And then you turned up at my gates, with bruises on you and a horrific story to tell," He continues, clenching your hands in his, "Yet I had to watch you, and let you return to that son of a bitch of your own will just so your family could live in peace!"

His body, now racked in sobs, crumples to the ground, bringing you with him as you cradle his head, tears of your own now dripping down your face. "Here you are now, one step away from moving to Sicily as you dreamed, asking me if I am in love with you? My beloved, is that really a question, or simply a confirmation?"

He looks up at you, eyes rimmed in red. "I cannot burden you with my emotions now. Not when you're achieving your dreams. Not when you and yours are suffering under the world's scrutiny. I love you so deeply that I know I cannot do that. If I cave into my emotions... you will be shackled to me, and I cannot have that on my account."

"No." You interrupt. His eyes raise to meet yours, as if in disbelief at what he was hearing.

"I plan to leave Nathaniel. All future plans are gone, and we will not be going to Sicily."

His eyes dilate in shock. The world goes silent, and it's just the two of you.

"I...I spoke to my mother. Way before today. About what you said. A lot of it was what you said." Your voice sounds foreign, so strange to your own ears. "I told her that I would settle the deal and anything we owe in any other way that would not require my happiness as a trade. I told her...I could not bear to let people who did not care if I lived or died dictate how I spend my days. I showed her the wounds he gave me. And I told her how you healed them."

He could not speak, could not move. The fact that you had decided to show your suffering to the one person you did it all for... he did not know whether to praise or cry at your bravery. That you, terrified yet adamant, had made a choice that would finally change the trajectory of your life.

You take a deep breath. Clasp his shaking hands in yours as you find your next sentence.

"You know this. The current divorce bill has always favoured men. In this age, no matter how big I am, no matter how much proof of how awful he is, society will only ever choose him over me. I have every intention to leave that monster, but it will be a tedious, arduous task, and I cannot promise anything out of it -- but what I can promise is that if you want me, you have me. Wholeheartedly, even if hell bestows its wrath upon us, my heart will always be yours. It..."

He waits with bated breath for your next words, his grip on your hand just as unwavering as your will.

"It must have been yours from the moment you pushed me to leave. You were the only one who saw me as anything more than a trophy wife, even with everything I threw your way. I only realised too late... that what I need isn't someone who would speak behind my back, or only support me from the sidelines."

His hands reached up to your face, trembling, cold, so full of emotion he felt like he would combust.

"I need someone like you to stand with me. I need you, Junhui."

It was all he ever wanted to hear. For the longest time, ever since he could remember. Just the thought that you might want him, competitor and all, shakes him to the core.

He grabs you and pulls you to him, hands gripping your waist. Tears form once more in his eyes as he shuts them and presses his mouth firmly to yours, and you can taste the salty tang of them on your tongue as you wrap your hands around his shoulders and tug him towards you. He smothers any remaining space between you -- not that there was much at all -- and wraps his arms wholly around you.

You both enjoy how you mold into each other so, so perfectly -- like a major scale, like a perfect chord, like the coda of your favourite orchestral symphony. One kiss against the next, the tune of your heart swelling into a brilliant crescendo.

You stay like that, lost in the throes of passion, heads tilting to accommodate each other, and when he finally pulls away, leaving you breathless as you meet his eyes, his expression changes into one of such deep love and joy, tears spring into your eyes again.

He draws you into a warm embrace, stroking the back of your head as you find solace in his arms. "Do not weep, treasure. I need you to stay with me, because after all these years of butting heads with each other, you are finally mine."

And as the darkness of the night descends upon the land, neither of you make any move to let go, because Junhui was right.

After all this time, of fighting and being at odds, you were where you really belonged.

With the man whose career you once swore to end, yet the only person who managed to play his way into your heartstrings.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"And you must still leave, because?" Junhui is frowning, evident even with his head down, playing with your fingers. You look at him longingly.

"To finish what I have started, Junhui," You murmur, looking at him. "There is to be a court hearing, and only then will I know if I can leave him."

He only frowns further. "And you will be going alone?"

"My mother will be coming with me. I would need support."

His expression does not relax as you hoped, as he continues, "I presume I cannot go?"

"The court would be even less in my favour if you were to show up. Imagine the scandal it would cause!" You reply, chuckling as you fiddle with the silk material on his waistcoat, soft and fluffy against your rough fingers. "Why? Can't get enough of me already?"

"Shut up," He replies instantly, voice bitter. "If you had just married me before and not bothered with him, you could've avoided all of this."

"It was arranged, you idiot! And I wonder, who was the one who didn't ask for my hand and pined about it on his own?"

"I did not pine!" He defends immediately. "I could have you thrown out for such slander, you know."

"You keep telling yourself that, Junhui," You reply, smiling slightly. "How was I to know you wanted to marry me from the start?"

"You had your head up in your ass, trying to win a competition that didn't exist," He responds without missing a beat, grinning devilishly, and now you were ready to release a string of curses that would make your poor mother weep.

"Listen here, you little-"

He takes your raised fist and holds it easily in his own.

You scowl deeply. "What do you want from me now?"

"I want you to decide for yourself. Go and do what you have to for your own happiness. If you decide you do not want me-"

A slap to his chest leaves him stunned.

"Are you actually lacking in intelligence somewhere up there?" You hum. "You're much more an idiot than I thought."

"What?"

"I spilled all I had in my mind to you, you nincompoop." You mutter. "I want you. I will only want you from here on out. Don't be stupid."

"Do you mean it?"

"That you're stupid? Without a doubt."

"You know what I mean." He holds your gaze. That in itself has you gaping in mock hurt.

"Do you not trust my words in the slightest?" You ask incredulously. "My, what do you think of me?"

He raises his eyebrows. "After the past ten years? You want me to be honest?"

You slap his chest again indignantly and he laughs.

"Junhui," You say, softer than ever before, and he looks back at you, eyes shining. "I mean it all. Down to the last word. Please... believe me."

He'd never heard so much as a request from you, never mind a 'please'.

"I do. Gods... I do. More than anything." He cups your face affectionately, and you melt at the touch. He seems as though he's gearing himself up to say something, and after a few moments, he finally loosens his tongue.

"From now to the end, I will wait. I'll be right here. No matter the number of waltzes and music I must grace this ridiculous society with, you must promise, promise, you will come back for me." He leans into your hold, and the intimacy, the gentleness Nathaniel never once provided, makes you blink back tears.

"I will." You say. No more word play or snarky responses. Your promise hangs between the two of you, strong as the red string of fate shining between your interlinked fingers, bright as the days ahead.

With Junhui by your side.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1875, April 2nd

Resounding applause booms through the concert hall. Junhui takes his final bow as the stage closes. Women were swooning, men applauding the prodigy violinist that finally graced the stage of Jahn's Hall. People waving could be seen wherever Junhui looked.

Show-off, you think to yourself. Yet, your legs betray you, standing up to carry you to the wings of the back-stage.

You handle your gown with ease, your feet carefully navigating through throngs of Junhui's well-wishers, the people manning the operations, all the way to the back where you saw clearly a large crowd forming.

Where the crowd was largest was where Junhui would be.

You pick at the bouquet in your hands in slight hesitation, until a man you recognise from many concert halls catches sight of you and promptly yells, "If it isn't Miss Y/N! Another wonderful musician in our midst! Freshly back from the courts eh?"

You shoot him a small smile and a nod, and he immediately starts elbowing people out of the way. "Out of the way, folks! She must be here for Mr Wen. The rumours are true, so move, fellas!"

Slowly, the crowd dissipates, fading to the sidelines, until Junhui notices the strange crowd movement. He looks up from his conversation with another man, and he freezes in his spot when he sees you.

Heart thumping so loud you can't hear anything else, you raise the bouquet (you searched for the perfect arrangement for almost a week, but you would carry that secret to the grave) and with a smirk on your face, you drawl, "Missed me?"

The crowd bursts into noise, full of clamouring and people shouting. Through it all, you pay them no attention, your focus only on the man in front of you, staring as though he's never seen you before.

Junhui stays stock-still for a few moments. You're starting to think he doesn't want you here.

"I know I did not write to tell you I was returning, but I can explai-"

The greatest violinist of the age strides over to you, captures your face in both his warm hands and kisses you.

You can feel him shaking as he presses himself tightly into your embrace, your foreheads almost touching.

"Seven months," He rasps out, pressing kisses on your mouth between each word. "Seven months and not a word from you. I imagined you'd run off with another man."

"Who else could have infiltrated my mind as you can?" You choke a laugh, reciprocating him with equal fervour. "Day and night, I ached to write to you, but I could not jeopardise my position in the court hearing."

"And what was the outcome?"

"Of what?"

"You know very well what!" He says, drawing away from you but keeping you locked still in his hug. "What of the case?"

You stay silent and his smile fades. "You are frightening me, treasure."

You laugh at that, unable to keep up the facade. "Ruled in my favour. We have signed the separation papers, and I am a free woman."

He shouts out something intelligible, and wraps you up in another bone-crushing hug which you happily return.

"I am glad I kept my promise," You murmur as he sways you around, lost in the joy of you back by his side. You hardly notice the hum of activity as someone ushers the crowd out of the room. "I hate to say this, but it may have been the best decision of my life."

"You say that now, treasure," He teases back before looking at you, puzzled. "What promise? As I recall, you did not write to me at all."

"That I would come back for you," You answer, without missing a beat. "That promise echoed in my head, every single day. When I stood my case, when I went to listen to an orchestra play the first day after learning I'd won. When I hastened my departure and my mother told me to be happy, all I thought of was coming home to you."

He pulls back and looks at you, eyes slightly glassier than they were before, and the brightness in his expression, the love in it, etches itself in your mind permanently.

"And you are home with me now."

"I am."

"You are not leaving me again, treasure. It is an order."

"You sound sappy. Stop that right this second."

"You started it first, darling. Your promise echoed in your head? Really?"

"You're insufferable. I hope you know that."

"Remind me when we marry. You love me anyway."

You sigh, half-helpless and half-fond, and reach up to rake your hands through his hair.

"I do. Gods... I do. More than anything."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1946, November 11th

"Hang that over there, please. Right at the centrepiece of the fireplace."

"Here, madam?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Treasure, you look at this portrait too many times in a day."

"Be quiet. This was the only good decision you made in our lives."

"You say that now. What of marrying me? Was that not the best thing you did?"

"The worst decision of my life, I can assure you."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I hate you."

"Love you too, treasure."

"..."

"You're smiling."

"I am not!"

"The curve of your lips won't go down. You are not sneaky."

"Shut up. I told you we should go see the classical group before they leave tomorrow."

"Don't distract me. We can look at the picture a little longer. It isn't time to go yet."

"Ah...finally, something good coming out from your mouth."

"The same mouth that kisses y- ow! My face!"

"Not another word!"

"Fine! God, you horrible lady."

"Fine, you wretched man!"

Shaking his head and smiling, the man, much older now, but with the same charming smile and earnest eyes, reaches his arm out to wrap it around his wife, tongue still sharp from their youth, yet still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She lets him embrace her, even leaning back semi-reluctantly, to his great amusement.

"Look at that," The lady marvels. "Look how wonderful the artwork is, Junhui. Goodness, I still remember the whole day."

"The best day of my life, treasure," The man responds gently. "I'll never forget."

Snug in each other's arms, the couple looks on, at the memory of their younger selves. The time has come and gone, but the days ahead of them are still as bright, the memory of this portrait just as vivid as ever.

The portrait of a beautiful young woman and a tall, dashing young man, sitting together on their wedding day, arms interlinked and smiles forever etched on their faces. Two violins sit next to each of them, and a small plaque attached below the portrait reads:

"Commissioned: Wen Junhui and Y/N L/N, March 7th 1876."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

author's note:

SURPRISE FIC in the middle of “This Summer”!!

i play the violin, so i was veeerrry excited to write one about music!! especially a period romance?? yes pleaaaasee

thank you for reading! 🎻🤍 feedback is always welcome :”)

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

05. he made sense though

🌼 warnings: mentions of a creep, injuries

🌼 word count: ~2.7k

"Y/N!!"

"Delia?? What are you doing back here?"

She shrugs. "I quit."

"What?!" You exclaim.

She looks at you. "Some creep wouldn't stop bothering me," She says lightheartedly, but one look at her expression tells you she's not feeling too great at all. "The doctor wouldn't take action even when she saw it in the flesh. Said something about not ruining our reputation. So I left." She promptly bursts into tears, and you're quick to draw her into a tight hug.

"Oh, god." You murmur. "Okay. It's okay. You're safe now, Dee. Come on in first."

"I'm jobless!" She chokes out a laugh through her tears, as you settle her on your couch. "Amazing, huh?"

"No, don't think like that," You insist, before a bright idea pops into your head. "Work with me. Over here. You like the village, don't you?"

"What? I-I do, but-"

"I don't have a nurse right now," You explain, getting more excited. "I could use the help."

She looks up at you, hope creeping into her face. "Really?"

"Yeah. It would be amazing if you stayed with me," You breathe out.

She squeals and tackles you. Amid her excited ramble of thanks, you catch the hint of relieved laughter

Loud bangs on your door wake you and Delia up.

"What the..." Delia grits out, shoving a pillow over her face. "It's 8am!"

You pull yourself out from the warm covers, and very grumpily, open the door to see Wonwoo. "Come on out," He says. "We have weekly village cleaning on Saturdays."

"It's a weekend!" You exclaim. "Who in their right mind wakes up this early --"

"We do," Wonwoo smirks at your cranky state. "Ten minutes. See you out there."

"See you never," You mutter, and he turns back to you to warn, "You better go get ready. Don't go back to sleep."

"You can't make me."

"Don't make me pull out the megaphone."

You huff and close the door.

He pulls out the megaphone. Right. At. Your. Doorstep.

And so fifteen minutes later, you find yourself in the ugliest neon green vest ever, a broom in your hands, sweeping the streets with a grumpy and groggy Delia by your side. Joshua and Seungkwan come by to say hello to your best friend, and Delia brightens up considerably after Seungkwan compliments her hair.

"He's so charming!" She sighs after they walk away, as you half-heartedly sweep up some dead leaves.

"Mmhmm. Got it." You don't even process her words, only scowling at the annoyingly dapper town chief.

"Y/N! We have a patient!"

You leave your office and to the counter, where you find Wonwoo and one of the grandmas you handled squids with standing together. You bow, and take the grandma's chart for a look.

"Grandma Lee," You read off the paper. "Pain in the elbow, extending to the wrist..."

"She does heavy work by the docks sometimes. You handled squids with her," Wonwoo supplies.

"Okay, got it. Would you come with me? We'll take a look."

Ten minutes, later, after a series of questions and quick presses to the painful areas, you conclude.

"So, you'll probably need a form of therapy," You say. "A few weeks' worth of exercises and physio to relax the surrounding joints and let it heal. It might be because of the constant strain and pulling. I'll get some pain relief for you in the meantime, but don't rely only on it. Healing the injury is key."

Wonwoo nods, and checks to make sure Grandma Lee understands.

"Doctor?" Grandma Lee speaks up.

"Yes?' You turn to her. "Any questions about the treatment?"

"How much would it cost?"

"Ah, your insurance will cover most of it."

"How much would I need to pay?" Grandma Lee looks up at you from her chair.

"It really differs by the number of sessions." You ponder. "But as a ballpark..." You scribble down a rough estimation, and her eyes widen as she sees the figure.

"Oh, that's so expensive!" The lady exclaims. "I wouldn't spend so much money just on my arm. Forget it."

"Grandma-" Wonwoo tries to interrupt.

"There are home-based exercises that we can try out if the cost doesn't work out for you," You attempt to placate her. "However, doing them under guidance is much better so you don't risk getting injured and making it wor-"

"Oh, never mind that," She says impatiently. "I'll just have painkillers."

"Please don't worry. I know medical prices can be very burdensome. We can discuss this further only after you're properly healed," You console. "Right now, the payment isn't my concern. The pain seems to be quite serious in some places--"

Wonwoo takes her arm as she tries to get up. "Grandma, why don't we hear the doctor out and consider it first? She's a professio-"

"Nothing pain medicine can't fix," She complains as you address her.

"Ma'am," You explain. "Injuries aren't always something you can fix with painkillers. If we don't fix the root cause, the pain will persist and it might get worse-"

"Hey, you don't have to scare her-" Wonwoo seems alarmed.

"Do you happen to be... in need of financial aid?" You blurt out in a moment of weakness.

"Hey!" Wonwoo starts, eyes widening.

"What?" Grandma Lee asks, looking offended. "Who do you take me for- I'll have you know, the land I own here is bigger than others! My kid works at a high-end company in Seoul. Do you think, what, I can't afford it?"

"Okay, um..." You blow out a breath, and look back down at your clipboard, clicking your pen shut. "Then...why don't you discuss this with your son first? We can do another consultation and see what we can do once we're all on the same page."

"Fine!" Grandma Lee retorts angrily, before pushing herself up and hobbling out of the room. Wonwoo starts to call for her, but she's already gone. He whirls on you.

"Did you have to?" Wonwoo asks exasperatedly.

"What?" You ask, annoyed.

"Ask about financial aid and all of that shit -- is that really what a doctor should say?"

"I asked because she was being stubborn."

"Stubborn-- have you thought that she maybe doesn't want to bother her family with the fees?" Frustration is laced into Wonwoo's words, his voice slightly louder than before.

"No, I haven't thought about it." You answer angrily, without missing a beat. "And I don't really understand that. She would rather endure the pain than get it resolved, just for her son?"

"Why are you like this?" Wonwoo half-shouts, getting up. "Look...I don't have time for this. You-"

"Neither do I," You say, folding your arms. "And please don't overreact. You're not her legal guardian."

He shoots you a glare, full of hurt and disappointment, before he grits out, "People really don't change so easily, do they." He then turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

Sighing, you return to perusing her chart.

You're still pondering over it that evening, and Delia is about to lose her marbles over your brooding when you get a text from Wonwoo.

"Meet me at the harbour."

When you reach the same spot where you ran into Joshua and Seungkwan and Wonwoo, this time it's just the chief alone. You sit a small distance away from him. "What is it?"

"She called her son earlier," He begins with no preamble. "And he said he wanted to wait a while since he's paying off the kids' school fees and he hasn't gotten his promotion."

You stay quiet. You know about the financial issues patients sometimes face. You've already made your decision to cure her after a long think and consulting with Delia, but you decide to listen anyway.

"We've told you about Grandma Lee." He starts. "And you know how she is. She wouldn't spend money on her treatment because she doesn't want to tell her family and stress them out. Her son has a family to support."

You stay silent, but he says nothing about it. He turns to you fully. "What I'm saying is, I'll pay for her treatment. Just don't tell her it was me. Say... say you had some kind of free treatment or something."

"I can't," You say immediately. "I have to be responsible for anything I do as a doctor. If I'm trying to help her get better, it would be unethical if I didn't inform her of the whole process from treatment to payment, black-and-white."

"Fine," Chief Jeon nods in understanding. "Make up any excuse within your limits. Just don't say it was me."

"Why are you being stubborn on this, too?" You ask softly.

"Grandma Lee raised me," He insists. "We take care of the people we love. She never likes to trouble her son--"

"So she just bears with the pain?" You interrupt, then sigh slightly. "That's a little selfish."

"Selfish?" Wonwoo says exasperatedly. "She's the most selfless woman I know. How could you even say that?"

"Because it's frustrating to watch." You look down at your hands.

"Don't you know anything about sacrifice?" Wonwoo confronts you hotly. "She's sacrificed so many things her whole life--"

"Why are you getting upset?" You retort, becoming just as irate. "Do you know what it means to be a good parent?"

He goes quiet, and so you continue, eyes blazing. "It means taking care of themselves and staying healthy for a long time."

His eyes flick back to yours, anger immediately draining from them. You ignore it and keep going.

"They shouldn't be putting aside their well-being in the name of not burdening their family!" You exhale sharply. "They should care for their own health the most, for the good of themselves and their loved ones. She shouldn't be putting herself through so much pain and letting herself suffer. Don't you get it?"

And with the outburst, you get to your feet and storm off. Wonwoo watches you leave.

Once you get back through the door you pass Delia's closed door, go to your room, and sink into a chair. You hated it, disliked the feeling so much, but something about Grandma Lee just couldn’t tear you away from her case. You rub your eyes in exhaustion.

We take care of the people we love.

It looks like you had a grandma to visit.

"Is anyone home?" You mutter as you enter her front yard the next evening.

"Who's that?" You can hear her voice and her footsteps as she ambles slowly out of her house.

"Oh. It's you," She says as she catches sight of you. You wonder if it's too late to turn back and escape, but you make yourself stay put, and bow to her. "Grandma Lee."

She sighs. "Since you're already here, might as well eat. Have you had dinner?"

As your head shakes no awkwardly, she tuts something about not eating properly before she ushers you into her home, to a seat at her table. You try to refuse, but she waves you away and goes back to her kitchen, and before long you hear the clangs as she makes a tray and sets it before you.

"Go on, eat!" She says as she opens a steaming bowl of soup. "I made these fresh myself, using kimchi we made. Try it."

You murmur a soft thank-you to her before you cautiously take a bite.

It tastes...like what you would have at heaven's gates. Rich and flavourful, the kimchi adds just the right tang of sour and crunch. "It's... really good,” You mumble quietly.

"Oh, that's good. I was afraid it wasn't good, you know. Nowadays, I'm not as agile as before. Bending over and making kimchi gets harder as you age. I ache everywhere after I make it." She chuckles awkwardly, and you smile softly along with her.

"And your arm wouldn't make it easier since it's in pain, right?" You attempt probing a step further, and she sighs and shakes her head. "I guess not."

"Then how could you think just painkillers would solve the problem?" You admonish, no anger in your words, and she smiles sheepishly.

But just like that, the tension eases a little, and you're relieved when she reverts to her slightly chatty self, going on about how doctors should be eating more to keep themselves going.

It feels like your own grandma watching to make sure you ate well, and you're maybe, just probably, starting to understand why Wonwoo adores her so much. Her presence is comforting, like a confidant you could come home to.

After you eat she brings you outside to the yard with some chilled barley. You sit with her on the porch as she tells you childhood stories of Wonwoo and Joshua and Seungkwan, and how they were called The Little Daredevils, and she pauses when she gets to Wonwoo leaving the town for a good three years. You smile at the right places, and look at the way her greying hair (white in some places) blows in the breeze as the sun sets and night falls.

"Ah, that boy," She sighs as she massages her feet and you pour her a cup of barley. "I was worried when he left, you know. And he didn't call anyone back here. He was different when he came back. Not the energetic chief we see now."

You nod awkwardly, remembering your spat with him. "I see. I'm glad he got better, didn't he?"

"He even offered to pay for the treatment!" She says, before shaking her head in fond exasperation. "He's mischievous, but he's a good man."

"...He is," You affirm, rather reluctantly. You cast your eyes down and shake your head as you recall his prior attempts to explain Grandma's situation to you. God, how he would laugh when he found out about this!

"And my son said to hold off on the treatment, so..."

That helps you recall why you're here in the first place.

"Grandma Lee, I came to tell you... come back to the clinic." You mumble.

She looks up, startled at your direct words. "Hm?"

"I might not be able to give you a hundred percent discount," You tug at the hem of your dress nervously. "But... I thought about it, and Wonwoo spoke to me... I wanted to apologise. I should at least try to understand your hardships. So...I won't charge you full price. Maybe just for the consultation."

"Oh..."

"Don't tell anyone, though," You try for a smile. "It can be our secret."

"If it's bad for business, you don't need--" She begins, flustered, but you wave your hands in refusal, face flushing. "It's not that, really."

She waits for you to continue.

"I won't get to see my parents retire and move to a peaceful place," You say quietly. "I won't be able to see them get to your age, or see them make kimchi and cook delicious things. So... I just thought I should try my best to give you more chances to do what you like. You shouldn't be in pain if you want to do it all."

You avoid eye contact, fiddling with your fingers, staring at the glowing lamppost, the peeling green paint of her gate, and the worn-out slippers on her feet, everywhere but at her, as she surveys you for what feels like forever, a mix of curiousity and sympathy laced in her expression.

When she finally reaches out to take your hand and pat it silently and gently with hers, wrinkled and lined with the wisdom of her years, the way grandmas always do, you let her.

She sighs. "Wonwoo really is a nag, isn't he."

The sudden lament coaxes a huff of laughter out of you. "I have to admit he made sense though."

It felt beyond strange to concede to the village chief for once, but when Grandma smiles and continues patting your hand, you couldn't help but think you finally did something right.

Wonwoo leans back, hands behind his head as he lies down on the ground. The red lighthouse glows in the distance and the sound of the waves fill his ears. Your voice fills his head

"Do you know what it means to be a good parent?"

"It means taking care of themselves and staying healthy for a long time."

He blows out a breath. It looked like he had a doctor to visit, and not for medical purposes.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.05: he made sense though

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🌼taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou

writer's note: soo... i hope she's trying to be better...? hahaha thank you for reading!!

౨ৎ voicemails lee chan leaves you while he’s on tour - fluff (with a pinch of angst), established relationship, gn!reader (pet names used: baby, sweetie)

...one: hi baby, so we just landed. i can't wait to get to the hotel, i'm exhausted. hope you're sleeping well too, i'll call you in the morning. love you

…two: huh, i think i forgot how it feels to sleep without you. i couldn’t fall asleep yesterday, at all. did you, um, did you sleep well? or is it me just overreacting maybe

...three: why did you turn off your location, baby? you're acting suspicious again, and i'm scared. don’t think for a second i forgot about that last prank you pulled

...four: what are you up to today? any plans? make sure to eat before you go out, and text me when you have some time

...five: hi, so this is seungcheol. shut up dino, or i won’t give you the phone back. your boyfriend got a bit, eee, drunk, and he wanted to call you to tell you something. someone hold him back or else. the point is, he was too drunk to dial himself so i had to do it for him. dino come here, and say what you want to say. I LOVE YOUUUU

...six: shit, i was so drunk yesterday. i hope i didn’t say anything embarrassing. i’m sure the boys would stop me if i was about to make a fool out of myself, though (pause) yeah, they definitely wouldn’t stop me

...seven: i checked the weather back home, and it’s so cold. make sure to wear my coat that i left you sweetie, it’s the one that you like so much. if you need any hoodies or sweatshirts you can always borrow mine

...eight: saranghae nunbit

...nine: i never would've imagined a game of monopoly could be that intense

...ten: i miss you a lot, you know? i didn't want to tell you earlier, so you wouldn't think i'm clingy, but i really do miss you. do you think we can talk over face time? i don't want to fall asleep alone tonight

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom

popping in to say that i've started prep for the next fic after 'this summer' ! it's a mingyu x reader centric smau and i'm suuper excited for it

but it's gonna take a while to come out cos i'm still tryna figure out the whole mechanics of the app i'm using lol

but i've gotten the profiles ready and i'm so waiting for the day i can announce it's ready to post hahahahaha

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

06. charming guy

🌼 warnings: a car accident occurs in this chapter. it's not overly graphic, but there are mentions of open wounds. please do not read if you are uncomfortable!

🌼word count: ~2.2k

"I'll be right back! I just need to get the arm brace for Grandma Lee," You call to Delia as you grab the car keys. "She's making much more progress than expected at this stage, so I'll go get the brace early."

You had liaised with a clinic about thirty minutes away to get the arm brace Grandma Lee would need soon. She'd come into your clinic, two days after you visited her, put down her details into the registration form with no hesitation, and started her treatment. And now, three weeks later, she was doing better than ever.

Wonwoo hadn't really spoken to you since that day. You saw him at the village cleaning sessions, or out about town on his part-time jobs, but he was always either busy or just silent. You didn't feel any hostility from him, though, so you were mildly relieved.

And so with Delia's cheery goodbye, you drive out to the clinic, get the brace and prepare to return, only to find that whilst you were getting the brace, what you thought was a cloudy day had turned into a full downpour, with thunder and lightning to match.

Well. Your day was ruined, you sigh, as you open your umbrella and rush yourself to the car. Your new suitpant set would officially be a gone case.

As you drove along the winding road, you began to squint. The rain was so heavy you could barely see, and the curving road was definitely not helping. Still, you had to get back for your next appointment, and so pulling over wasn't on your mind as you pushed on.

It seemed fate had other plans for you, as the only thing you saw, approaching you swiftly from the corner of yet another curve, was a pair of large headlights, before a loud crash resounded in your ears, and the world spun and whirled before turning dark.

"Miss? Miss? Can you hear me?"

You stir awake. Ow. Everywhere hurt.

"Miss?" An unfamiliar male voice made you come to your senses. Where were you?

You look up to see a short, squat man, knocking on your window in panic. "Miss? Could you open the door? We're in a bit of a situation...I crashed..oh shit, you're injured!"

You barely take in his words as a ringing pain shoots through your head. You reach up to touch it, only to wince and pull it away, hands coming away red.

Oh.

In your haze of pain, you finally recall to unlock the door, and you slump against the man the moment it opens. Your seatbelt and his grip saves you, and after settling you back in your seat he immediately asks, "Okay... we're going to need help, miss. Can you tell me anyone I can call? I'll try calling the ambulance, but the nearest hospital is an hour away and service is a little shit here."

You manage to slur out Delia's number softly, and the stranger fumbles in his pocket for a phone to call her, your head still laid against his shoulder. You faintly hear Delia's loud screech of shock on the other end, before the man is rearranging you back in your seat, standing next to your car door again as he waits. You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes, as the stranger does try to curb your bleeding with his handkerchief.

The next time you come to, it's to a dripping man (that is definitely not the driver nor Delia) hovering over you, trying to maneuver you out of your seat. His glasses gleam with rainwater as he unclicks your seatbelt and slides his arms under your knees and over your shoulders, preparing to carry you out of your car.

"Hang in there," You hear him call to you over the rain as he lifts you in his arms, gathering you to him. "I'll get you to a hospital, okay? I'll stay with you. Sleep a while if you need to."

"Uh...Chief Jeon?"

The man pauses speaking for a moment, but keeps walking. "Yeah, it's me. Delia doesn't have a car so she called me for help. What were you thinking anyway, driving out when there's a storm?"

"Brace. For...Grandma..." You try to say, but it just doesn't come out right, and all you're feeling is pain in your head. Being jostled around as he walks isn't making it better.

"Don't talk yet if it hurts. I'll ask you later, so go to sleep. You'll be okay when you wake up," He says again, and as if on command, your eyes drift closed.

"Ugh.." Your head feels like it's pierced by a thousand knives. "Ow!"

The door --- right, you're in a hospital, you register -- opens and Wonwoo walks in, carrying a glass of water. You stare at him and he stares back at you. "What are you doing here?"

"Did you hit your head too hard?" He wonders, as he sits down and helps you hold the glass. "You don't remember me bringing you here?"

"It's all a blur, honestly," You mutter as you sip the water. After passing him back the glass, you try rubbing your temples gently to ease the ache.

"Wait, you're pressing too hard," He says suddenly. "Let me."

He leans forward, and you smell the faint scent of his cologne. Oh, he smells nice, you think, in your groggy haze.

"Thanks," He answers, still gently massaging the sides of your head, and you realise you said it out loud.

"I didn't say anything," You mutter, and he shakes his head in amusement. "I didn't hear anything then. I'll take it you're woozy from the medicine."

After he's done, he settles in the chair by your bed and pulls out his phone. "Shouldn't you go home? You already troubled yourself lots..." You ask, barely suppressing a yawn.

"I heard from the nurse. Delia's your only emergency contact, but she'll take a while to settle the clinic and come over, so I'm here till then," He replies, not looking up.

"I'm okay alone," You reply, but with your fatigue and mumble, it's not heated at all.

"Don't think too much," He answers nonchalantly. "I'm not staying here for you. It's just because Delia isn't here."

"Mhm... okay... could you pass me my phone?" You mumble, already half-asleep, hand loosely dangling over the bed. "I'll tell her not to come since I'm awake and fine, so you can go home and rest too. It's a long way."

He shakes her head. "Too late. Last I heard, she was getting a ride from Seungkwan."

"Ah, the charming guy, she says..." You muffle into your sheets, eyes shuttering.

You hear him huff a quiet laugh as you drift off, and then feel the warmth of a blanket being laid over you. "Yeah, the charming guy."

The next time you wake up, Delia is sitting next to you.

"Oh, shit, you're awake," She says as she springs up from her seat and holds your shoulders to help you up. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got run over," You try to crack a joke, but Delia's face dampens slightly. "I'm joking..."

"You scared the shit out of me," She mumbles, eyebrows furrowing. "Thankfully Wonwoo came to help you."

"Yeah, I know," You reply, your expression softening at the recall of Wonwoo carrying you in the rain to drive you to a hospital over forty-five minutes away from the town. "Where is he, anyway? And Seungkwan. You came with him, right?"

"They went to get food." Delia replies. "They'll be glad to know you woke up, Wonwoo was very worried."

"Hm?"

"Oh, yeah. He hung up on me the moment I said you were in an accident. Don't even know how he found you."

"Oh..."

Now you feel even more guilty. You vaguely remember the time when you got into an accident on the school bus and your dad drove all the way to the clinic to fetch you home.

"Man, you should've said something, I'd bring medicine for you..." You hear Seungkwan saying as the door slides open and Seungkwan and Wonwoo come in.

"Shut up," Wonwoo mumbles as he comes in. He sneezes once, and you look at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

"'M fine," You hear him reply, slightly muffled with a blocked nose.

"You caught a cold, didn't you?" You ask, slightly alarmed. "From being in the rain..."

"I have a bad immune system," He mumbles unhelpfully.

You sigh. "Don't go to any trouble next time, alright..."

He raises his eyebrows. "Is this the shock talking? This isn't the doctor we know." Seungkwan barely suppresses a laugh, snorting as Delia smacks his arm. You huff. "Should I go back to being bitchy?"

"Oh, no, thanks," He jests. "Here." He chucks a plastic bag onto your hospital table.

"What's this?"

"Gummy bears. Delia said you like to eat sweet stuff when you're in pain or something."

Delia shrugs when you look at her. "They were getting food. I thought you might want something when you got up."

You sigh, before picking out an orange one after he opens the bag for you. "Have you eaten medication?"

"No, not yet," He says, watching you munch on the bear. You frown sternly. "Make sure to take some after eating, once every four to six hours. Check the label if you need non-drowsy ones."

"I'm not the one in a hospital bed right now," He replies, just as sternly.

"Alright, lovebirds," Delia says, standing up and stretching. "I'm getting hungry. Is there a store nearby?"

"There's kimbap on the opposite side of the street." Seungkwan says, immediately getting up. "I'll go with you. There’s some shops you might wanna see.”

And before you and Wonwoo can say anything, they're out, chattering as they go.

You sit in silence with Wonwoo, who's twisting his fingers slightly now.

"Why are you anxious?"

"I'm not." He responds.

"You just tugged at your fingers, like, five thousand times."

"You're keeping count?"

"You're irritating, you know that?"

"I'm sorry."

"What is this?" You ask, taken aback. "Why're you apologising?"

"Not for the irritating part, for Grandma," He mutters. "She told me you went to her house and got her started on treatment. And Delia said you got into that accident because you were picking up her brace."

You're starting to get even more taken aback by the minute, but he keeps going. "And you were right about the parent thing. You know...the part about taking care of their health."

"Oh," you reply, nonplussed. "Well, you were right too. At some parts. Like trying to understand her and her situation. Sorry it... took me so long to get there."

He cracks a smile. "I think I like you much better in this state. Not so grouchy."

You scowl.

"Seriously, though," He straightens. "I'm sorry you got into this situation 'cause you were picking up her brace."

You furrow your eyebrows. "It was just shitty luck. Nothing to do with Grandma."

He smiles and then gestures towards your hospital table. “Do you want food? I can ask the nurse?”

“No, I’m good,” you mumble, embarrassed. “You should go get food, though. You had to wait around in here for a while.”

“Nah,” He says, leaning back in his chair and shutting his eyes. “I’m just lethargic. Don’t wanna move anywhere.”

You remain silent, fully intending to let him relax in silence, when you remember something.

"Thanks, by the way."

"What?"

"Thanks for helping me today." You say, cheeks flushing.

He shakes his head. “As long as you’re alright.”

When you finally smile and nod, he finally closes his eyes, drifting off while you lean back into your pillows.

It's always the same scene. It's almost laughable how the dream plays out, always the same as before, always the exact same things happening.

Of him stuck in a black, empty space, nothing to be seen for miles. He can't even see the floor he's standing on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him whirl around, and he's met with the same person that always appears in his dreams -- him.

Well, at least it looks like him.

This Wonwoo isn't the happy, outgoing one. He sports swollen, tired eyes, trembling hands, a pale, drawn face. This Wonwoo seems to find his lifeline in saying the same exact lines every single time, shaky hands coming up to grab his neck.

Do you think you can run, Jeon Wonwoo? To that perfect little village you call home? Do you think everything you've done won't catch up to you?

His eyes fly open, sitting up bolt upright in his chair, bathed in panic and his own sweat. The late afternoon sun slants in through the drawn windows. He turns his head, and when the bed comes into view, he exhales sharply.

Someone's here. Dead asleep, granted, but the presence of someone, at least, helps him breathe a little easier.

She turns in her sleep, and his breath catches in his throat. In a different way, funnily enough, not in repulsion of himself, not in fear.

He sinks back down into his chair and closes his eyes.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.06: charming guy

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🌼 taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou

writer's note: oop