DIFFERENT

pls give them a chance 🙇🫶

second chance | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: hwang in-ho joined the games with one goal: to monitor and manipulate seong gi-hun. but everything changed the moment he saw his childhood friend among the players—a face he never expected to see again. *.✧ word count: 21.7k (are you even surprised) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, choking, guns, explicit depictions of injuries, panic attacks (reader experiences one) usage korean words and suffixes, mentions of cho sang-woo, reader moved from in-ho's place to gi-hun's place (gyeonggi-do to ssangmun-dong), softie in-ho because its you, angst :D *.✧ note: I ACTUALLY THOUGHT CROSSROADS WILL BE THE LONGEST THING I WRITE, SURPRISE SURPRISE SECOND CHANCE IS HERE. hope you guys love it!! masterlist | request here

Your life wasn't supposed to go in this direction. 

Ever since you were small, people knew great things would come to you. You were talented and smart in every way, shape, or form. Teachers would gush about how bright your future was, and neighbors would brag to their kids about your achievements as if they were their own. So why were you here now, standing in a room surrounded by strangers for a chance of winning some money? 

Currently, all of you watched as the screen displayed various people getting slapped left and right. Announcing their player numbers, names, and how much money they owe. The sheer amount of debt displayed beside each name was staggering—hundreds of millions, even billions.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the whispers around you. People were muttering under their breath, some recognizing names and faces, others lamenting their own debt in comparison. The tension in the room was suffocating, a shared humiliation that weighed heavy on everyone.

Player 132. [Last Name] [Name]. 562 million.

The words echoed in your ears like a slap to your face. Your own name, your own shame, displayed for everyone to see. A few heads turned toward you, but you refused to meet their eyes. You scratched the back of your head in shame, keeping your eyes on the ceiling as if you could avoid the weight of judgment all around you.

'Well... at least it wasn't from that stupid crypto bullshit,' you mumbled under your breath, though the bitter smile on your lips faded as quickly as it appeared. As the guard moved to another person, the crowd around you blurred into an indistinct mass of voices. You didn’t care to listen. You let yourself drown in your thoughts, tuning out the chaos.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Life was supposed to be a series of steady steps upward, not a freefall into the abyss. When your family moved from Gyeonggi-do to Ssangmun-dong, everything changed. 

Your father, once the pillar of the family, walked out one day without a backward glance. Which left you and your mother to fend for yourselves. He left for some woman he barely knew. Someone who didn’t have to deal with the mess he’d left behind. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, your mother decided she had better things to do than raise a child. 

One morning, you woke up to an empty house and a note on the dining table. The words were hurried, impersonal, as if she didn’t pushed you out and raised you. Worst of all, she didn’t even spell your name right!

The pain of abandonment never left you. It festered, growing into a heavyweight you carried everywhere. You tried to survive, piecing together odd jobs and small victories, but it was never enough. Debt piled up faster than you could manage, dragging you into this nightmare.

The first game was announced— Red Light, Green Light. 

You had doubts. The game seemed too simple, almost childish, like something even teens could survive without breaking a sweat—just a game, right? But as soon as the first shot rang out, you realized how wrong you were. Bodies fell like dominoes, blood staining the grass in vivid red. The sound of death was deafening, and the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. You froze, your breath caught in your throat, as the world around you erupted into chaos. People screamed, some running, others collapsing in terror. You couldn’t move. The simplicity of the game suddenly made sense—it wasn’t without cost.

Death was suddenly real, closer than it had ever been before. Your entire life flashed before your eyes—every mistake, every regret, every moment you had taken for granted. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not here, not now.

Luckily, a player stepped up and took charge. Player 456. He was calm and collected, advising everyone to hide behind the larger players, claiming that the robot wouldn’t be able to see you if you stayed out of its line of sight. His plan was simple yet effective, and with his guidance, you managed to survive the round.

As you returned to the main area, the tension from the first game clung to the air like a thick fog. Every breath felt heavy, and the adrenaline that had pushed you through the chaos now left your limbs trembling. Despite it all, a deep sense of gratitude toward him lingered in your chest. You wanted to stay close, to follow his lead. There was security in his presence, a grounding force that kept the worst of your fears at bay.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room. Guards entered in perfect formation, their masks as eerie as the silence that fell over the crowd. The sight of them sent a shiver down your spine. One by one, people began to plead for their lives, collapsing to their knees, their voices breaking with desperation as tears streamed down their faces.

“There must be a misunderstanding,” the main guard, marked by a square on his mask, said in a monotone voice. “We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

Before he could continue, the same player who had spoken during the first game—Player 456—interrupted with a sharp shout.

“Clause three of the consent form!” The room froze, all eyes, including yours, turning to him.

His words were sharp, filled with a sense of urgency and strength “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?” he demanded, his voice firm.

“That is correct,” the guard replied, his tone unwavering, as though the question had been anticipated.

“Then let us take a vote right now,” Player 456 said, his words igniting a spark of hope in the crowd. It was as if a door to freedom had cracked open, and everyone could almost taste the possibility of escape.

“Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice.”

A collective sigh of relief spread through the crowd, a fleeting moment where fear was momentarily pushed aside by a glimmer of hope. For the first time, you felt something that resembled a shift in the balance of power. They weren’t in control—at least, not entirely.

“But first,” the guard continued, “let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.” He pressed a button on his device, and the room suddenly dimmed.

A low hum filled the air, followed by the descending of a massive glass piggy bank from the ceiling. It gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, casting eerie reflections across the players’ faces. The sound of wads of cash clinking together echoed through the room, loud and clear, like the jarring noise of a twisted casino jackpot.

The players stared, wide-eyed, as the money poured into the glass bank. It was hypnotic—the sound, the sight, the overwhelming promise of wealth. Some players instinctively stepped forward, as if drawn by an invisible force, while others lingered at the back, still fearful but unable to resist the allure of the prize.

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,” the guard announced, his voice as flat and emotionless as ever. “Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the remaining 365 of you can equally divide this amount and leave.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Player 100, who was standing near you, called out, his voice filled with disbelief. “How much is that?”

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won,” the guard replied without hesitation.

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, as a wave of murmurs spread across the room. There was a mix of disbelief, anger, and confusion.

“Twenty-four million? We almost died for that?” Player 124 scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of it too. Twenty-four million wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the terror, the near-death experience, the trauma of the first game. Yet, at the same time, the number was hard to ignore. It was money. A lot of it. Enough to make you forget the panic, at least for a while.

“You said the prize was 45.6 billion!” Player 230 shouted, his voice rising with frustration.

The guard’s response was calm, almost detached. “The rule states that 100 million won is added for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

There was a brief silence as everyone processed the implications of this. The numbers didn’t seem to add up at first. But as the calculation sank in, the possibility of even more money stirred the crowd.

“How much will it be if someone survives until the very end?” someone asked, their voice trembling with hope.

The guard, unbothered by the growing tension, simply stated, “As I already told you, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. If you are the sole survivor, you will receive the full amount.”

The room erupted into a chorus of gasps, whispers, and shouts. Some players looked at each other, their expressions shifting as greed began to seep into their eyes. Others remained still, haunted by the terror of the first game. The promise of so much money was a heady temptation, but it came at the price of their lives.

“So, we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” someone asked, their voice tinged with hope, as if the very idea of escape was now within reach.

“Yes,” the guard confirmed. “As outlined in the consent form, you may vote after each game and decide whether to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point. We always prioritize your voluntary actions.”

You stood there, torn. The terror you’d felt during the first game still clung to you, wrapping around your chest. But the temptation of the prize money—of being free from the crushing debt that had haunted you for so long—was overwhelming. This could be your only chance to escape. A chance to climb out of the pit you’d been stuck in, buried under mountains of bills and threats. If you walked away now, you’d return to the same miserable existence, drowning in debt, with no way out in sight.

Your mind raced. You had fought so hard just to survive, and now, standing in this room, you were faced with a decision that could change everything. The terror from the first game still gripped your chest, but the lure of the money was almost impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about survival—it was the chance to escape the suffocating weight of your debt, the years spent trying to climb out of a hole you’d fallen into.

The voting started with Player 456. You watched as he cast his vote, the air thick with tension. The red light from the voting machine flickered for a brief moment as he pressed his choice, a clear "X." One by one, others followed, some hesitating, while others quickly made their decision. The chaos of it all felt overwhelming. You couldn’t help but wonder if they had already made up their minds, whether they were giving in to the temptation of the money or if they were too afraid to continue.

When your number was called, your legs felt like lead as you approached the voting machine. Each step was agonizingly slow, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. The room seemed to shrink, and you could feel every eye on you, even as you tried to ignore them.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the button. The thought of pressing it, of choosing to continue, made your stomach twist in knots. For just a moment, you hesitated, feeling the weight of your decision crushing you from all sides.

Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the circle.

The blue light illuminated your face, a cold reminder of the choice you’d just made. A guard stepped forward, handing you a blue patch marked with the same symbol as your vote. You accepted it with shaky hands, bowing slightly before pinning it to your jacket. As you returned to your spot in line, your heart pounded in your chest.

God, why did it come to this? What could have gone so wrong? Had you done something to upset the gods? Or were you simply born unlucky, destined to live a life riddled with hardships?

You couldn’t stop questioning yourself—your decisions, your choices, the countless crossroads where you might’ve taken a different turn. You missed the early moments in your life when everything felt so simple, so light. Back then, there were no looming debts, no sleepless nights spent worrying about survival, no constant weight pressing down on your shoulders.

You had it all once—a lovely family with successful parents who made sure money was never an issue. You had good grades, a tight-knit circle of friends, and a future that seemed full of promise. You were happy, truly happy.

And you weren’t always alone. Aside from your parents and friends, there was someone else—someone who had been a constant in your life, a steady presence you could always count on. He wasn’t just a friend; he was the friend. The one who stood by you no matter what, even when the world seemed to turn its back on you.

When the bullies in school targeted you for reasons you never understood, he was the one who stepped in without hesitation. You still remembered the way he’d square his shoulders, his voice firm and unwavering as he told them to back off. He never cared if he got in trouble for standing up for you; all that mattered to him was that you were safe.

He wasn’t just your protector, though. He was the person who could make you laugh when you were seconds away from tears. He had this knack for knowing exactly what to say or do to lighten your mood, whether it was pulling a silly face, cracking a joke, or nudging you with that mischievous grin that always made you roll your eyes but secretly smile.

He was the one who stayed up late with you when you were cramming for exams, even though he wasn’t the most studious person himself. He’d throw pencils at you when you started to drift off, only to shove snacks in your face the next moment and tell you to take a break. He had this way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, as if just being around him made everything a little brighter.

And as much as you tried to deny it back then, he had become your everything. Your safe haven, the person you trusted more than anyone else. He was the one you turned to when life felt too heavy to bear, the one who never made you feel like a burden for leaning on him.

He was your partner in crime, the one who’d sneak off with you during boring school events, laughing as the two of you got caught and had to face detention together. He made life feel like an adventure, even in the quiet, simple moments.

But above all, he was your first love. Though you never said it out loud, it was there—in the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at you, in the way you found yourself searching for him in every room you walked into. It was in the way you felt safe and seen in a way no one else could make you feel.

He didn’t know, of course. How could he? You were just kids, too shy to even admit it to yourself most of the time. But looking back now, it was clear as day: he wasn’t just your best friend. He was the boy who had stolen your heart, even if he never realized it.

You paused. The faint buzz of the voting machines around you barely registered as you froze in place. Why were you thinking about him now, of all times? You clenched your fists, trying to will the memories away, but they pushed their way into your mind regardless.

You remembered the way he shouted at you, his voice filled with anger and frustration. The argument had been sharp, the words he threw at you cutting deeper than you ever thought possible. He had been upset that you were leaving, but instead of asking you to stay, instead of saying goodbye, he stormed off.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed; the wound was still raw. He was your best friend, the boy you loved so deeply you couldn’t even bring yourself to admit it back then. And he let you leave without so much as a goodbye.

Your chest tightened as the memories overwhelmed you, crashing over you like waves. You had convinced yourself that you were over it—that it didn’t matter anymore. But clearly, that wasn’t true. The emotions you had buried deep, the hurt and the unanswered questions, all clawed their way back to the surface.

Did he hate me? The thought stung, even now. Did I mean so little to him that he couldn’t even say goodbye?

The pain lingered, sharp and vivid despite the years that had passed. You could still see it, like a scene burned into your memory—the moment he walked past you on your last day of school. His face had been a mask of cold indifference, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours as though looking at you would cost him something precious.

You had called his name, your voice trembling with desperation and a plea you couldn’t quite voice. You just wanted him to stop, to look at you, to give you a reason, a sign that he cared. Anything to make the ache in your chest a little less unbearable.

But he didn’t.

He just kept walking, his steps steady and unyielding, leaving you standing there. The knot in your throat had tightened until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. He left without a word, without even a glance. And in that silence, you were left with nothing but heartbreak and questions that would never be answered.

And now, here you were, those same feelings dragging you down as the votes continued. The sound of faint button presses and shuffling feet filled the air, each vote drawing everyone closer to an answer.

You hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers flashing on the screen, but the tension in the room was suffocating. The votes were neck and neck—X and O, tied. A deuce. The final vote could change everything. You could feel the unease creeping over the room like a storm cloud ready to burst. The fate of the game rested in the hands of the last player.

The tension was unbearable. Everyone held their breath. It felt as if time itself had come to a standstill, the anticipation hanging in the air.

You forced yourself to look up, to see who the final person would be. Your heart pounded louder in your chest with every second, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on you. Your gaze fell on the figure walking toward the voting station. You couldn’t immediately register who it was—your mind too wrapped in the urgency of the moment. The final decision.

 But then something hit you. A familiarity. A sinking feeling in your chest.

And then your breath hitched.

It was him—.

In-ho.

Your world seemed to tilt on its axis as you watched him. It was like a punch to your gut. Your chest tightened painfully, and your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. You had spent years trying to push him out of your mind, trying to move forward, but in that moment, it all came rushing back with a force you weren’t prepared for. The ache in your chest deepened, and you realized just how much you had never really healed.

Your mind swirled with the years you’d spent without him. The countless nights you had stayed awake, wondering what had gone wrong, why your friendship ended that way.

He was standing there now, in front of you, like a ghost of your past. He was so close, yet you couldn’t reach him. You couldn’t understand what you were seeing. Was this a dream? Was this some cruel twist of fate?

You watched his every move as if in slow motion. There was no hesitation in his actions. His hand reached out to press the button with a deliberate, practiced motion.

And then, he voted. O.

The cheers erupted around you, but they felt distant, muffled, like they were happening in another world. You could hear the excitement rising from the others around you, the shift in the air as the vote swung in favor of continuing the game. 182 to 183.

But none of that mattered to you.

All you could think about was how the boy who had once meant everything to you was here, in the same room, playing the same dangerous game. The same boy who had walked away from you all those years ago, leaving you in silence. 

You stared at him, unable to move, to speak. It was as if time had stopped, like the world around you had turned to static. Your mind was racing, a torrent of emotions swirling inside you. The hurt you had pushed down for so long had exploded back to the surface.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, your body frozen in disbelief. All you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of the past, the weight of everything that had happened between you two. The questions that you had carried for so long—about why he left, about why he never said goodbye—pushed their way to the surface, raw and painful.

Your mind raced, but your body refused to move. You were trapped in this moment, unable to escape the overwhelming emotions that came with it. There was no easy way out.

The past was alive in front of you, and it had never felt so real.

Hwang In-ho was a man who prided himself on always being in control. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated, and designed to maintain his upper hand. He wasn’t one to take risks without knowing the outcome, nor did he leave anything to chance. His sharp intellect and knack for strategy had always kept him one step ahead of everyone else, whether it was in the games or in life outside of them.

So when he learned that Seong Gi-hun, the man who had also escaped the game’s clutches once, was coming back—not as a desperate participant, but as a threat to everything the games stood for. In-ho knew he had to act. It wasn’t just about the rules or the money; it was about protecting the intricate system he had helped sustain, the foundation he had sacrificed everything to uphold.

The idea of Gi-hun winning was infuriating. He wouldn’t allow it. Not because he believed in the games' morality, but because their collapse would mean his own failure. It would mean admitting that he, the one who always stayed ahead, had lost control.

And In-ho did not lose. Not to anyone. Certainly not to Seong Gi-hun.

The solution was clear: he had to join the game.

Adopting the alias "Young-il," In-ho entered as Player 001, his plan meticulously calculated. Every detail was accounted for—his presence would be unassuming, his actions deliberate. The goal was simple: get close to Gi-hun, observe his every move, and ensure the game remained firmly under his control.

It wasn’t just about safeguarding the system he had come to embody; it was about reaffirming his dominance. To In-ho, this was more than strategy—it was a statement. A test to prove that no matter the odds, no matter who opposed him, he would remain two steps ahead.

That was his purpose. His only focus.

Or so he thought.

Everything changed the moment he saw you.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In-ho’s steps faltered, his carefully calculated composure slipping for the first time in years. His eyes locked onto your figure amidst the sea of players, and for a fleeting moment, he thought it was a cruel trick of his mind—a phantom conjured by guilt and memory.

But no. The wide, shocked eyes staring back at him were unmistakably yours.

The realization struck him like a physical blow, an ache spreading through his chest that he couldn’t ignore. You were here. You were really here.

You shouldn’t be here.

He froze, his usually sharp mind scrambling to piece together an explanation. What were you doing here? What had happened in your life to bring you to this place of desperation and death? He remembered you as you once were—bright, warm, full of life—and now, the thought of you standing on this stage of horrors felt wrong in every conceivable way.

Memories of you came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. The way you used to laugh, how you’d pull him out of his brooding silences with a simple touch, the way you always seemed to bring light into his otherwise shadowed world. Those memories clashed violently with the reality before him. You didn’t belong here. Not in this uniform. Not in this nightmare.

He felt his mask of indifference. The armor he’d built over years of pain and regret started to crack. For so long, he had mastered the art of detachment, burying every emotion deep beneath a layer of control. But now, with you standing there, all of it came flooding back. Guilt. Regret. Anger.

And something else. Something he couldn’t name but had tried to bury long ago.

The look on your face gutted him. Recognition, confusion, hurt—it was all there, as raw and unguarded as the day he’d last seen you. You looked at him like he was a ghost, like you couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you. That look shattered something in him, something he hadn’t realized was still breakable.

For the first time in years, In-ho felt unsteady. His carefully constructed walls, the ones that had kept him in control, in power—shook under the weight of your stare.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

He clenched his fists at his sides, a desperate attempt to regain control, to force himself back into the cold, calculating mindset he’d mastered. He couldn’t let you see how much this affected him. Not here. Not now. This was a game—a deadly one—and emotions were dangerous, liabilities he couldn’t afford.

Even as he tried to steady himself, forcing his gaze away and focusing on the task at hand, something inside him rose above the chaos. He knew, without a doubt, that he had to protect you.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t part of his plan. But it was undeniable. Seeing you here, dressed in the same uniform, facing the same deadly stakes, ignited something in him that he couldn’t ignore. He had joined the game to regain control, to manipulate the outcome, to ensure Gi-hun wouldn’t tear everything apart. But because the one person he never wanted to see in this hell was standing right in front of him, the thought of sticking to that plan seemed impossible.

And no matter what it cost him—his control, his plan, his very life—he couldn’t let you die.

It was time for the second game: the Six-Legged Pentathlon.

You walked hand in hand with another player—Player 222, Kim Jun-hee, as she had introduced herself earlier. Together, the two of you moved through the crowded room, searching for three more players to form a team. Your eyes flicked down to the frail figure beside you, her grip on your hand trembling slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of protectiveness.

Earlier, before the announcement of the next game, you had found her curled up in the corner of the bathroom, clutching her stomach with a pained look on her face. She had been trying to hide her tears, but they slipped through anyway, leaving tracks down her pale cheeks. The image of her broken composure stuck with you, and even now, the weight of it hadn’t lessened.

The look on your face as you crouched beside her was indescribable. When you asked her what was wrong, she was silent at first, her gaze vacant and lost as if the weight of the world was too much to carry. Slowly, her shoulders sagged, and she spoke in a low, quiet voice, each word heavy with the burden she was trying to carry. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was everything. Her words were a confession, a painful release of all the fears that had built up inside of her. She spoke of being alone, of how no one wanted to team up with her, and the overwhelming worry that constantly gnawed at her. But it wasn’t just that.

She talked about her child. The one thing in this nightmare that kept her going, even if only by the thinnest thread. Her mind was consumed by the thought of them. She wondered if they would survive. But what hurt the most was the months of silence from the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Her fiancé, who had disappeared without a trace, left her to wonder if he was dead or alive, only to learn he was in the same hellish game. She never imagined she would have to face this—alone, scared, with no one to lean on.

Something in her tone, the hopelessness wrapped in every syllable, struck a chord deep within you. For a moment, it wasn’t Jun-hee you saw—it was yourself. 

You had been there before. You knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to watch everything you had built slowly crumble, to be left in a world where trust was a distant memory. The same fears she voiced were the ones that had haunted you—the fear of losing your loved ones, the dread of facing a future where you had nothing, and the overwhelming loneliness that seemed to suffocate every hope you had left.

Her pain was your pain, her desperation mirrored your own. You had been there—fighting for survival, clinging to any hope that things could get better, even when the world felt like it was falling apart. It wasn’t just empathy you felt for her; it was the haunting reminder of your own struggle, a shadow of the darkness that had once consumed you. You didn’t want her to experience the same isolation, the same crushing hopelessness that had almost broken you. You knew too well how it felt to be lost, to question whether you’d ever make it out alive, to wonder if there was anything left to fight for.

As you looked at her, a quiet resolve settled deep within you. You wouldn’t let her walk this road alone. You wouldn’t let her fall into the same despair that had once threatened to swallow you whole. You could no longer stand by and watch someone else go through the torment you had endured alone. You would be her strength, her anchor—just as you had longed for someone to do for you when everything seemed to be slipping out of your grasp.

Without hesitation, you reached out, your hand finding hers, cold and trembling. You squeezed it gently, offering a steadying warmth that you both needed. “Then you’ll come with me,” you said. “We’ll figure this out together.”

You weren’t going to let her face this nightmare by herself—not when you knew the crushing weight of solitude so well. You wouldn’t let her fall down the same painful path you’d been on. From that moment on, you refused to leave her side.

You were supposed to focus on your own survival, you know that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her behind. Something about her reminded you of someone else, someone you had been a long time ago. You couldn’t save everyone here, but maybe, just maybe, you could save her.

Meanwhile, In-ho’s plan was progressing smoothly. He had successfully gained Gi-hun’s trust and joined his team. Together with two others—Player 388 and Player 390—they were only one person short of completing their group. In-ho kept his head down, maintaining his facade as the amiable and harmless Player 001. He had positioned himself perfectly, right where he needed to be.

Until he heard your voice.

“Hello, excuse me. Do you have space for two more?”

His head snapped up instinctively. There you were, standing just a few feet away, holding player 222’s hand as you looked at Gi-hun and the others, avoiding him altogether.

In-ho couldn’t help but stare.

“We’re sorry, miss,” Gi-hun replied apologetically. “We already have four members.”

You didn’t falter, keeping your small smile. “That’s not a problem,” you said firmly. “Would you be willing to have her instead?”

Before anyone could respond, you gently nudged Jun-hee forward. She hesitated, glancing nervously between you and the group, but you gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

In-ho stayed silent, watching the interaction unfold. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Irritation bubbled under the surface. Of course, you would do something like this. Even in a place like this, where survival meant looking out for yourself, you were still thinking about someone else. Always putting others before yourself, even when it didn’t make sense to do so.

You never change.

And yet, despite the frustration clawing at him, He couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A part of him—a part he didn’t want to acknowledge—was happy.

Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much this place had changed the both of you, there were still parts of you that remained the same. That stubborn kindness, that fierce determination to protect others—it was one of the things he had always admired about you.

It was one of the things that terrified him.

You still carried that same hope, that same belief that people could be better, that kindness had a place even in a place like this. It made his stomach twist. The fact that you hadn’t hardened, hadn’t become cynical like everyone else—it was both a relief and a danger. You couldn’t afford to trust anyone here, not without consequence.

What if you trusted the wrong person? What if you let your guard down just once and someone used that against you? He had seen it happen before, in a way that made his insides tighten with dread. People here weren’t to be trusted, and you were too pure, too unguarded. He’d seen how quickly things could turn, how easily alliances could break, how one wrong move could be the end of someone’s life.

It made him want to reach out, to warn you, to pull you away from the people who might betray you. But instead, he stayed silent, his heart racing faster than his thoughts could keep up with.

His gaze shifted to the girl you had taken under your wing. She was trembling, showing a strong facade. In-ho couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness for her too—though he would never admit it out loud. She was vulnerable. She didn’t belong here. But you were giving her a chance. You were always giving people chances, even when they didn't deserve them.

He tore his gaze away, looking anywhere but at you. He hated the way you made him feel, even after all those years. Torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to pull away, he couldn’t reconcile the two. He had built walls for a reason—so that no one could get too close, so that no one could hurt him again. And yet, there you were, slipping through those cracks, reminding him that even after all this time, even after all the distance, he still cared.

“What about you?” Player 388 asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. I’ll find a group somewhere.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing with worry.

You nodded, your tone firm but kind. “Of course. If you want, you can help me?” you offered, though it wasn’t a question so much as a gentle suggestion.

The male nodded without hesitation, as though it was the most natural thing to do. He saluted you with a small smile, his expression brightening as he turned to lead the way. You followed quietly, walking side by side as the two of you engaged in light, casual conversation. The sound of your voices seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere of the game, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, navigating the chaos in your own way.

In-ho watched the interaction unfold from a distance, his gaze fixed on you. His chest tightened as he observed the way you interacted with Player 388, the ease with which you formed connections, the comfort you seemed to give others despite the grim situation. For a fleeting moment, he found himself wishing it was him walking beside you instead of that other player. He longed to be the one you relied on again, the one you trusted in a world where trust felt like a luxury.

He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides, trying to suppress the emotions that stirred inside him. It wasn’t supposed to matter. You had your own path to walk, and he had his. But the feeling gnawed at him, more intense than he liked to admit. A part of him wanted to be the one to keep you safe, to be the one to stand by your side. To be the one you turned to, the one who could offer you something real in the midst of all the chaos. But another part of him feels like that’s impossible to achieve now.

Busy with his inner battle, he didn’t notice the curious watchful eyes of the female beside him.

Luckily, you and Player 388—Dae-ho, as he introduced himself—found a group of four not long after starting your search. Players 149, 007, 120, and 095 stood in a tight circle, whispering among themselves as they looked around for their missing fifth member. Their faces were a mix of tension and determination, but they didn’t seem hostile, which was more than you could ask for in this environment.

Dae-ho, ever the confident one, strode forward with an easy smile. “Excuse me… do you need more members?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

All four turned to face you both, their eyes scanning you up and down. There was an unmistakable wariness in their expressions; trust wasn’t exactly in abundant supply here. Finally, Player 120 spoke, her voice measured. “I’m sorry, but we only need one more.”

Dae-ho didn’t even flinch at the rejection. Instead, his grin widened, his tone growing more playful. “Well, you’re in luck! You see, [Name]nim here is a master at spinning tops. Quick hands, sharp focus—everything you’d need for precision games like these. How could you possibly pass on a deal like that?”

You blinked at him, both amused and exasperated. Was he seriously pitching you like you were a product at an auction? Despite the absurdity of it, his tone was so casual, so confident, that it managed to disarm the tension in the air, even if just a little.

You gave Dae-ho a small shake of your head before stepping forward yourself, bowing politely to the group. “I may not be a master,” you began, sending a pointed but amused glance toward Dae-ho, “but I’ll do my best to contribute. Please, if you’ll have me, I’ll work hard.”

The group exchanged glances, their hesitation apparent. It was weird for them, hearing a casual and almost teasing tone in an environment where death is prominent. Still, after a moment, Player 120 gave a curt nod. “Alright. You’re in.”

Relief flooded through you, and you turned to Dae-ho, a small smile breaking across your face. “Thank you,” you said, your tone filled with genuine gratitude.

Dae-ho gave a casual wave of his hand, as if dismissing your thanks. “Thank me after you survive this game [Name]nim.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his unshakable confidence. “Alright Dae-ho, see you later.”

As you turned back to your new team, introductions were exchanged before quickly discussing strategies. Despite the palpable tension in the air, they seemed cooperative enough. Each player carried their own air of quiet determination, though the stress of the situation was evident in the tightness of their voices and the stiffness in their movements.

Your team was one of the teams to go first. When it was your turn, you grabbed the top and string with trembling hands, whispering a small prayer under your breath. Slowly, you began winding the string tightly around the body of the top, starting from the bottom and wrapping upwards. But as you reached the middle, the string suddenly slipped free, unraveling entirely. You froze, your shaky hands betraying you further as you fumbled to pick up the loose string.

A lump rose in your throat as panic surged through you. You knew you were good at this. Spinning tops was your childhood talent, something you had always taken pride in. But now, in the most critical moment, your nerves were getting the best of you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you looked at Player 120, your voice trembling. “I… I’m sorry. I swear I’m good at this. I’m just… really scared.”

Player 120’s expression softened, and she knelt beside you. Her voice was calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. You just need to take a deep breath and focus, alright? You’ve got this.”

Her words anchored you, and you nodded, inhaling deeply. As you exhaled slowly, a memory surfaced—something that always helped you when you were scared. Turning to 120, you asked hesitantly, “Could you… could you cover my eyes?”

She blinked at you, puzzled. “Cover your eyes? Why?”

You offered a nervous smile. “I promise it’ll help. It’s… just something I do.”

With a shrug, she moved behind you and placed her hands gently over your eyes. As darkness enveloped your vision, you felt a strange but comforting familiarity take over.

“What’s up with this weird ritual you do?” In-ho’s voice was teasing, his hands warm as they covered your eyes back then. “You’re always doing this!”

“It’s not weird!” your younger self had retorted, pouting.

“Is too!” he laughed. “Nobody else does this, you know.”

“Well, I get really scared when I see what I’m doing, okay?” you’d replied stubbornly. “So I thought, ‘What if I just don’t look?’ It helps me focus.”

You smiled softly at the memory, your hands finally steady as you began winding the string again. This time, it wrapped perfectly around the top, tight and precise.

When 120 uncovered your eyes, you felt a renewed sense of determination. But before you could proceed, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“To effectively spin the top, first, you must hold the loose end of the string firmly in your hand,” In-ho called out, his voice carrying an authoritative tone. He paced in front of you like a drill sergeant, his arms folded behind his back. “Next, throw the top onto the ground with a flicking motion. Pull the string sharply to make it spin. Understood?”

You straighten your posture, snapping a salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

The two of you broke into laughter, a sound so pure and unexpected that it momentarily dissolved the tension in the air. When he handed you the fully wound top, his fingers brushed yours lightly. “Alright, [Name],” he said, his smile softening, “show me what you can do.”

Gripping the top tightly, you turned to him one last time, your eyes filled with uncertainty. He gave you a reassuring thumbs-up and a wide smile, and somehow, it was enough to calm your racing heart.

With all your might, you threw the top onto the ground, pulling the string sharply. It spun perfectly, steady and unwavering. Relief washed over you as you watched it spin continuously.

The cheers erupted so suddenly that it startled you out of your thoughts. Your teammates—149 and 120—rushed to your side, shaking your shoulders in celebration. Their excitement was infectious, and soon you found yourself smiling, laughing, and letting the moment sink in.

“Alright, alright, let’s calm down!” 120 said, her voice mixed with happiness and haste. She led the group to the next station, the victory fueling your collective determination.

In-ho watched from a distance, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t let himself indulge in for years—a flicker of joy, the kind that came from something genuine. Seeing your face light up with relief and triumph stirred something buried deep inside him, something he thought was long gone. He couldn’t stop himself from cheering along with the others, maybe louder than necessary. Perhaps it was his way of masking the whirlwind of emotions inside him, or maybe it was just his heart acting on its own. Either way, he didn’t care to stop.

As your group crossed the finish line. The room became lively again. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound pure and unrestrained, even as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel it: pride, joy, and the simple relief of success.

Amidst the commotion, your eyes instinctively searched the crowd—and then you saw him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight made your breath catch, your smile faltering for a second before returning, softer this time.

And then it happened. Your eyes locked. Everything else seemed to fall away—the noise, the crowd, the weight of the game itself. It was just the two of you in that moment, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between your gazes.

His dark eyes, cold and guarded the first time you saw them, were now filled with longing, happiness, maybe even a glimmer of pride. It was as though he was telling you, I knew you could do it. I’m proud of you. But there was something deeper, too—something unspoken. His gaze held a vulnerability that he wouldn’t dare put into words, a quiet hope that you might still see him the way you once did.

You felt it, too. A warmth spreading through you, unexpected and disarming. The wall between you, built by years of distance and unspoken words, seemed to crack ever so slightly. For a brief moment, you forgot the tension, the pain, and the uncertainty. You saw him—not as an enemyl, not as someone you had grown apart from—but as the In-ho you once knew.

His lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still held a quiet sincerity. He wanted to say something, you could feel it. But words were unnecessary. The way his gaze softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his presence seemed to pull you closer—it was enough.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, but it left something behind. A spark. A fragile yet undeniable hope.

As you were all escorted back to the main area, you found yourself glancing back at him one last time. He was still there, watching, his expression unreadable now. But you saw the faintest nod, as if to say, Please, let’s talk soon.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. A chance to fix what had been broken. A chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you. A chance to reconcile, to find your way back to each other in a world that had done everything to pull you apart.

Your eyes remained locked with his until the door behind you closed.

Player 149 invited you to join them for a chat, a way to pass the time as the second game continued. With a small nod, you followed them to their little corner, settling on the stairs just behind Player 120. The group was warm and welcoming, and soon you were learning their names, hobbies, and bits of their lives outside the games.

Player 149 introduced herself as Jang Geum-ja, a kind but sharp woman who spoke with unwavering pride about her son, Player 007, Park Yong-sik. Her love for him was evident in every word and action—she had joined the games solely to pay off her son’s debt, determined to give him a better future despite the grim odds.

Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, exuded a quiet yet approachable aura. A transgender woman with dreams of starting fresh, she joined the games not only to clear her debt but also to complete her medical treatments. Her plan was to move to Thailand and begin a new chapter in her life, one filled with hope and authenticity.

Finally, there was Player 095, Kim Young-mi, a soft-spoken woman with a warm, unshakable belief in the goodness of others. She and Hyun-ju had formed a close bond, their friendship blossoming into a dynamic partnership that made them inseparable—like two peas in a pod, finding strength in each other amidst the chaos.

As the room began to fill with players returning from the game, your eyes instinctively darted to the doors each time they opened. Your stomach twisted with worry, though you tried to stay composed. You were searching for Jun-hee and her group, your concern growing with each passing minute.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you spotted familiar faces walking through the doors. Relief surged through you as you quickly excused yourself from the group and descended the stairs. Without hesitation, you rushed straight to Jun-hee.

"Are you okay? How are you? How’s the baby? Did you feel nauseous? Do you want me to massage your back? Or your feet? Need to go to the bathroom? Pee? Puke?—"

Jun-hee's face turned bright red as she raised a hand to shush you. “Stop, [Name]nim, you’re embarrassing me,” she whispered, glancing nervously at her group. Despite her words, a small smile tugged at her lips, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“Hey! It’s [Name]nim!” Dae-ho’s cheerful voice cut through the moment as he jogged over to you.

“Dae-ho! Looks like I owe you a proper thank-you now, huh?” you said with a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing.

The three of you exchanged warm words, laughter breaking through the otherwise somber atmosphere. Nearby, the rest of Jun-hee’s group—456, 390, and In-ho—watched the scene unfold. As 456 and 390 moved away to sit down at their spot, In-ho lingered, his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer before he turned to follow the others.

Moments later, you found yourself joining the group, introducing yourself properly. 390, a man with a friendly demeanor, grinned and replied, “Ah, how could we forget you? Thank you for giving Jun-hee to us. She’s really skilled in ddjaki! The name’s Park Jung-bae by the way.”

Your eyes widened. “Jung-bae? Are you Young-sun’s husband?” You asked, pointing a finger at him.

Jung-bae blinked in surprise. “Huh? How’d you know my ex wife?”

“I live in Ssangmun-dong! I visit your pub often. Young-sun would always keep me company when I stopped by.”

Recognition dawned on his face. “Ah! I remember now! You’re the one who splurged like crazy that one night. You even had to crash at our place because you were too wasted to leave! Young-sun told me you were whispering someone’s name... what was it... In-h—”

Panic shot through you as you clamped a hand over his mouth, heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t. You. Dare,” you hissed, glaring at him.

Jung-bae’s eyes widened, and with a nervous nod, he raised his hands in surrender. You slowly released him, muttering an apology under your breath as you tried to regain your composure.

Dae-ho and Jun-hee, however, were staring at you, their mouths slightly agape. Who knew the kind person they looked up to was a raging alcoholic? Behind them, In-ho’s expression shifted subtly, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Was it anger? Hurt? Curiosity? You couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty only made your heart race faster.

Breaking the awkward silence, Jung-bae cleared his throat. “W-well, speaking of Ssangmun-dong, my buddy here also lives there. We’re best of friends!” He gestured toward Player 456, who waved at you with a sheepish smile.

You bowed politely, offering a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Seong Gi-hun,” he introduced himself with a nod.

“What a small world,” you said, grateful for the distraction as the three of you fell into an animated conversation about your shared hometown.

From a short distance away, In-ho watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on you, his mind racing. Why were you talking about Ssangmun-dong like it was the greatest place in the world? What about Gyeonggi-do? What about the memories you shared there? What about him?

He paused, a flicker of something he refused to name surfacing in his mind. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be—he wasn’t allowed to feel that way, not after everything he’d done to you. The very thought felt absurd. Yet, the knot tightening in his chest as you spoke to others wasn’t easy to ignore.

A nudge from Dae-ho jolted him out of his thoughts. He blinked, realizing all eyes, including yours, were on him, waiting for his introduction. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and forced a polite smile.

“My name’s Oh Young-il. Young-il sounds like ‘zero one’, and that’s my number, see?” He gestured to the 001 embroidered on his jacket. Dae-ho raised his brows, impressed by the coincidence, but your gaze lingered on him, a storm of confusion hidden behind your composed expression.

You knew his real name. You knew that he was Hwang In-ho, not Oh Young-il. So why was he lying? The thought gnawed at you. Had he changed his name after getting married? But there was no wedding ring on his finger. Maybe he’d taken it off? No, no. The contradictions piled up, yet a part of you didn’t want to accept the truth. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, deliberately avoiding you. He was hiding something, and you wanted to know what it was.

The moment was interrupted as the heavy boots echoed across the room. Guards marched in, their presence commanding silence. The atmosphere shifted instantly as the square-masked guard stepped forward.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game,” the guard began, his voice monotone yet eerily loud. He pressed a button on a remote, and the massive piggy bank descended from the ceiling once again. Wads of cash began to tumble into the glass container, the sound of bills hitting each other. Eyes across the room were glued to the spectacle, greed and desperation lighting up every face.

“The results of the second game are as follows: 110 players were eliminated. Therefore the total prize money accumulated is now 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Despite the staggering amount, you couldn’t shake the pit forming in your stomach. 78.8 million won. It was a fortune—more money than you could have ever imagined—but instead of relief, all you felt was disgust.

How could you be thinking about the money when 110 people had just died? Faces flashed in your mind, the terrified screams, the sight of bodies collapsing. And yet, here you were, wondering if it was enough to pay off your debts. The thought sickened you, and your throat tightened as bile threatened to rise. When did I become this person? You had stepped into the games for survival, for a better future, but now you couldn’t tell where desperation ended and greed began. The numbers on the screen blurred as hot tears welled in your eyes, your breaths coming quicker. I’m no better than the ones who created this place. Am I even human anymore? You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to silence the spiraling thoughts, but they refused to stop.

You felt your body tremble, your vision narrowing as the room seemed to tilt around you. The walls felt closer, the hum of voices blurring into a distant buzz that drummed in your ears. Every blink brought a sting to your eyes, tears welling and threatening to spill over. You tried to focus—on the floor beneath your feet, the faint pattern of the tiles, anything—but it all blurred together, a haze of shapes and colors you couldn’t ground yourself in. Deep breaths came shallow, catching in your throat, each inhale fighting against the tightness in your chest. Your hands twitched at your sides, desperate for something to hold onto, but all they found was empty air. You whispered to yourself, hollow words of comfort you couldn’t even hear over the pounding of your heart. Your pulse throbbed in your ears, drowning out everything else. All you could feel was the weight of guilt pressing down on you, the silent judgment of the room—even if it existed only in your mind. You were spiraling, untethered, a storm of shame and helplessness that swallowed everything in its path.

Suddenly, a hand gently rested on your shoulder. The warmth startled you, and you whipped your head around to find its source. It was him. In-ho. Or Young-il, as he’d introduced himself. But he wasn’t looking at you; his head was turned toward the commotion among the players, who were now arguing loudly about the rules. His hand, though, remained on your shoulder, steady and deliberate.

Before you could process it, he began to rub your shoulder in slow, soothing circles. His fingers worked gently, almost instinctively, massaging the tension from your stiff muscles. You stared at him, stunned into silence. His expression remained neutral, his attention seemingly elsewhere, but his touch told a different story.

After all these years, he remembered. He remembered how you used to freeze up during moments of intense stress, how just a simple touch—steady and grounding—could help you calm down. You hadn’t needed to explain it to him back then; it was something he’d noticed, something he’d done instinctively. And now, after everything, he was still the same. His hand stayed on your shoulder, firm yet gentle, just like before.

He remembered how you hated when people stared at you in moments of weakness, so he kept his eyes elsewhere. He knew you felt exposed, ashamed even, as if everyone was silently judging you, so he never let that happen. 

He remembered how you felt guilty for needing comfort, for drawing attention to yourself, so he never made a big deal of it. No words, no questions—just a quiet, unwavering presence that said, I’m here.

And you were thankful for that, more than you could ever put into words. It gave you hope. Hope that maybe, after all these years, there is still something left between you. 

With a grateful nod, you looked away as his hand left your shoulder, already missing his warmth. The commotion around you had ended, and people were drifting back into small groups, discussing their next move. You knew you had to focus, to think through the decision, but your mind felt like it was breaking into pieces. Should I vote X? If it wins, you’d leave with 78 million won—not nearly enough to erase your debt, but at least it would mean you were alive. Or should I vote O? That meant continuing the games. No guarantee of survival, but a chance at something greater—a chance to fix everything.

You tilted your head to gaze at the piggy bank hanging above, its glowing light taunting you. Before you could fully weigh your options, a conversation behind you caught your attention.

“Oh, don’t worry. I want to stop here,” In-ho’s voice said casually.

You froze, listening.

“I should go and be with my wife at the hospital,” he added.

Oh.

It was like someone had snuffed out the flicker of hope you’d just found. The energy drained from your body in one cruel wave as the words settled in. A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, and you swallowed it down, shaking your head. Of course, he has a wife. How could you have thought otherwise? You felt like a fool for hoping, for thinking even for a second that those small moments meant something more.

Dae-ho’s voice broke your spiraling thoughts. “I’m telling you, we’ll get out this time,” he said with determination, tugging at the patch on his jacket like it was the source of all his problems. “A marine should think strategically and know when to retreat,” he added, giving Jung-bae a playful shake.

Jung-bae, looking utterly rattled, nodded weakly. “R-right… that’s true,” he muttered, though his nervous glances betrayed his doubts.

“We have to end the games here,” Gi-hun said firmly, stepping into the circle of your group. His eyes met yours briefly, and you nodded. It was a silent agreement, one that seemed to lift his spirits slightly.

In-ho, standing off to the side, watched the exchange with something that could only be described as malice.

Dae-ho clapped his hands, calling everyone back to attention. “Alright, let’s huddle up!” he said with a grin, thrusting his hand into the middle.

One by one, everyone joined in. Your hand landed just below In-ho’s, and you tried not to think about it, about how the warmth of his hands made you feel .

“In one, two, three… Victory at all costs!”

“Victory at all costs!”

“This time the vote will begin with Player 001. Please cast your vote.”

All eyes turned to him, including yours. In-ho met your group’s collective gaze with a calm, unreadable expression before walking up to the platform. Without hesitation, he pressed the X button. The distinct chime echoed in the room as the counter for X increased by one.

The next player—Player 006—stepped forward. Without much deliberation, they also pressed X, their vote adding another mark to the tally.

“Player 007.”

Your eyes flicked upward at the familiar number. It was one of your teammates from the second game, Yong-sik. You spotted him in the crowd, watching him lean down to exchange hushed words with his mother. Her expression was tight, desperate, begging him to vote X but he simply nodded before walking to the machine. His hesitation was visible as he stood there, torn between his choices. Then, the sound of O being chosen played, the button glowing bright blue as his vote was registered.

Your heart sank as you saw his mother’s face fall, her grief and disbelief plain for everyone to see. You averted your eyes, unable to look at either of them any longer. You understood both sides of the story—the desperate hope of a mother to save her child so they can go home and the equally desperate desire of a child to pay his debt fully, leaving his mom with no more worries.

The votes continued, each press of a button punctuating the room like a drumbeat of tension. Finally, your turn came. You felt the weight of the decision like a physical burden pressing on your shoulders. Part of you wanted to vote O, to take the gamble, to fight for a chance to win enough to pay off your crushing debt. But the thought of your group—the first people in years who had truly accepted you—stopped you. You had promised yourself that you would protect them, that they would go home safe to their families.

You stepped forward and pressed X. The red glow of the button reflected on your face as the counter ticked up. You removed your blue patch as a guard gave you a red one. You stuck it to your jacket before, giving a small bow to them before retreating to your spot.

As you walked back, you felt In-ho’s gaze following your every step. His eyes burned with intensity, but you didn’t look his way. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not when you knew the truth now. He had a wife—a life far removed from you. Whatever feelings you might have clung to in the past didn’t matter anymore. You would not degrade yourself into becoming a mistress in someone else’s story.

The voting continued until suddenly, a commotion broke out. Gi-hun stormed to the center of the room, shouting for people to vote X and urging them to end the games. His words rang out with desperation, but before he could fully plead his case, In-ho cut him off.

In-ho’s voice carried an edge of anger as he stepped forward, his composure cracking. “There’s no guarantee you’ll survive the next game! Do you really want to risk your lives for a few more million won?”

The room fell silent for a moment, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Player 100 stepped forward, shaking his head with disdain. “And what if we don’t risk it? We leave here with nothing but debt and regret. One more game, and we’re looking at at least 240 million each. That’s life-changing money!”

His argument ignited the room, and chaos erupted. Voices clashed, some siding with In-ho, others with Player 100. It spiraled into a shouting match, each side growing louder, more frantic.

You stood still, detached from the chaos. As much as you wanted to support your friends, you couldn’t bring yourself to intervene. This wasn’t a debate to be won; it was simply another game of chance, with lives hanging in the balance. The outcome wasn’t up to persuasion or reason. It was up to luck.

Finally, the vote was tallied. O won against X by a wide margin, 139 to 115.

Your stomach churned, fear creeping in as you processed what it meant. You weren’t scared for yourself but for Jun-hee, her kind heart too soft for the brutality of these games. You weren’t worried about your own safety but for Dae-ho, whose unwavering faith in others had been betrayed as Jung-bae—someone he admired and respected—voted O.

When the vote ended, your group regrouped, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. You found yourself behind Jun-hee as she ate her portion of the day’s dinner. Her small frame trembled, though she tried to hide it, her hands shaking as she clutched the bread's wrapper.

Without a word, you placed your hands on her shoulders, massaging gently to ease her tension. You moved to her lower back, your fingers pressing lightly, offering what little comfort you could in such a bleak moment. She didn’t say anything, but the way her breathing slowed told you that it helped, even just a little.

Without a second thought, Dae-ho stood up, his face conflicted as he grabbed Jung-bae by the arm and dragged him over to your group. His eyes darted nervously between you, Jun-hee, Young-il, and Gi-hun before his gaze softened, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, [Name], Jun-hee, Young-il,” he started, his voice low, his words laced with guilt. “Gi-hun, I’m sorry…” His apology hung in the air, sincere but laced with discomfort.

He went on to explain his decision to vote O, his voice shaky but determined. “You see, I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors have been harassing my ex-wife and kid. They’re threatening them, and if I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle the debt. So…” His words trailed off, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes.

Before you could speak up in defense of Jung-bae, In-ho cut him off, his frustration still fresh from the earlier commotion. His tone was cold, a sharp edge beneath the calm exterior. “Jung-bae,” he started, his voice low but heavy with disappointment. “You of all people shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t twice as righteous.”

You felt a twinge of sympathy for Jung-bae, but In-ho’s words were true. Deep down, you understood why In-ho was so disappointed.

In-ho’s gaze flicked back to Jung-bae as he continued, his words almost regretful. “But looking at the results, even if you two voted against it, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right? So it’s not really our fault,” Jung-bae quickly added, eager to find any shred of justification. He seemed relieved, like the pressure had been lifted slightly, but his eyes flickered nervously to the others, waiting for confirmation.

Dae-ho, who had been silently observing, scratched his head and gave Jung-bae a comforting pat on the shoulder. His movements were casual, though his eyes were thoughtful. “Honestly, I get why you did it. 78 million won isn’t enough. So when I went to vote, I really thought about going for ‘O’ too.”

You nodded in agreement, a soft murmur of approval escaping you. You understood the temptation, the overwhelming urge to fight for more when it felt like everything was slipping away. The money was too much to ignore.

Seeing the subtle nods of agreement from the group, Jung-bae’s confidence grew. He straightened his posture, eager to make up for his earlier decision. “Next game, I promise. I’ll—”

“Next game?” Gi-hun’s voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with a quiet intensity. “Next game, we might have to kill each other.”

The room went completely still. Everyone froze, the silence thick and suffocating. Gi-hun’s words hung in the air, their weight sinking into each of you. He was right, and the grim truth of it was enough to stop all conversation. There was no sugarcoating it. The next round could very well be the end, and the thought was unbearable.

The quiet that followed was heavy, the dread and uncertainty sinking into your bones. You couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run down your spine, the magnitude of what was to come settling over you like a thick fog.

Annoyed by the uncomfortable pause, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. We all know there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just stay focused. We need to eat, get ourselves together, and prepare for the next round.”

The group seemed to agree with your statement, the momentary discomfort fading as they all began to refocus.

In-ho, ever the quiet observer, handed his milk carton to Jun-hee without a word, his gaze flicking to her briefly before he looked away. “I don’t drink plain milk,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the gesture was nothing more than a small, unnoticed act.

Jung-bae, following suit, offered his bread to Jun-hee as well, his eyes shadowed with guilt. “I don’t deserve to eat,” he said with an awkward chuckle, trying to mask the heaviness of his words with forced humor.

You watched the exchange, your heart twisting slightly, but before you could speak, Dae-ho leaned in, his voice light but with an edge of concern. “I’ll take the milk carton?”

When Jung-bae shot him a glare, Dae-ho hesitated, then pulled back, not wanting to push it further.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of what was ahead. The uncertainty, the danger—it all felt too much. But in this moment, you focused on your meal, knowing it was the only thing you could control for now.

You found yourself sitting beside Dae-ho, your bread in hand, chewing quietly as you both took a brief moment of respite. Dae-ho seemed lost in thought, his eyes darting toward you, hesitant yet full of unasked questions.

“If you have any questions, just ask me, Dae-ho,” you said, offering a small smile. “I’m not gonna bite, you know?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, caught off guard by your casual invitation. But he took a deep breath, calm now, and turned to face you fully. “Do you have kids at home, [Name]nim?” he asked, his voice low but sincere. “It’s just... whenever I see you with Jun-heesii, it reminds me of my mother taking care of me and my four sisters.”

You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of discomfort as you realized the question would require a vulnerable answer. In-ho, sitting nearby, seemed to listen in, his curiosity piqued. Part of him, though, wished you didn’t have any children, that you weren’t settled in on with somebody, a selfish thought he quickly pushed away.

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” you murmured, a soft laugh escaping you as you fidgeted with your bread. “I actually don’t have any kids or a husband... I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Boys don’t really look at me like that, if you know what I mean. Life wasn’t that nice to me, especially after we moved. I didn’t have the time or luck for any of that…”

Dae-ho’s expression softened with guilt. He immediately regretted asking the question, but when he saw the faint longing in your eyes, he paused. There was something more behind your words—something unspoken, something that told him you longed for a family, for the chance to live that dream.

In-ho, overhearing, felt a pang in his chest. What had happened to you? He knew things had ended badly between the two of you, but he never expected life to treat you so harshly. You were kind, generous, and had always believed in the goodness of people. He couldn’t understand why life had been so difficult for you. You didn’t deserve that.

Before the silence could grow any heavier, Jung-bae mischievously broke it with a suggestion. “Well, if you like, I can set you up with someone back in Ssangmun-dong. Right, Gi-hun?”

Gi-hun, who had been quiet up until then, blinked in surprise, his confusion evident. “Huh? Who?”

“You know! Sang-woo! The Pride of Ssangmun-dong!” Jung-bae grinned, clearly amused by his own suggestion. “I think he and [Name] would make a great couple, don’t you think?”

At the mention of Sang-woo, Gi-hun’s face shifted. His expression faltered, a wave of guilt and sadness clouding his features. A pained smile tugged at his lips as he nodded absently. “Yeah... I think so too,” he murmured, his mind clearly elsewhere as he drifted off into his own thoughts.

The sudden change in Gi-hun’s demeanor caught your attention. His usual angry and tense self had been replaced with something quieter, a deep sadness that seemed to pull at him. You looked to Jung-bae for an explanation, your brows furrowed in concern.

In a soft voice, Jung-bae filled in the blanks. “Gi-hun and Sang-woo were childhood friends, but... he’s been missing for years.”

You nodded, understanding the pain behind Gi-hun’s words. You could relate to that feeling—the ache of a long-lost connection. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your own heart as well. Even though the lost connection was right in front of you, and he still felt so far away.

Gi-hun’s sadness wasn’t a good look on him. He was always either grumpy or happy, never in between. You wanted to change that. You thought back to when you missed In-ho so much, you’d drown your sorrows in alcohol and chatter to Young-sun about him. Maybe, just maybe, getting Gi-hun to talk about Sang-woo could help him, even if it was just for a little while.

“Hey, Gi-hun,” you called softly, breaking the silence. “Tell me more about this Sang-woo guy. Who knows, maybe we’d click together, you know?”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your question. But something in his gaze softened as he began to talk. He recounted bits and pieces of his childhood with Sang-woo, his voice lighting up with nostalgia. His eyes shined as he described his friend’s strengths, quirks, and all the little memories they shared.

From the way Gi-hun spoke, you could see how much Sang-woo meant to him. The same way you felt about In-ho, the weight of love and loss behind every word. You silently prayed for their reunion. Gi-hun deserved happiness, and you wished for him to find it—whether through Sang-woo or another way.

In-ho’s jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. If they were going to give you a partner, they should give you someone who can protect you—someone who knows you, your likes and dislikes, your type... His thoughts were possessive— jealous. His hands clenched into fists, though he forced himself to stay composed. He wasn’t sure why the thought of you with someone else hurt so much, but it did. It hurt more than he was willing to admit.

As the conversation shifted and laughter filled the space, In-ho stayed silent, the weight of his unspoken emotions heavy in the air. The conversation ended when they all went to the bathroom, leaving you and Jun-hee alone. She wasted no time asking a question that had been bothering her ever since she noticed something strange.

“[Name]nim, do you know Young-ilnim? Like, before the games?”

You were taken aback, your surprise evident in the way your eyes widened. What prompted her to ask such a thing?

“No, not that I remember,” you replied, a small ache tugging at your chest. It was hard to say those words. “Why do you ask?”

Jun-hee hesitated, her gaze flickering down to her hands. “It’s just that… I always see Young-ilnim looking at you, or staring at you. Especially when you helped me during the second game. His stare... it was like there was something there.” She trailed off, her voice quiet, unsure if she had crossed a line. “I thought you two might know each other. Sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, no... don’t apologize, Jun-hee. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassured her with a small smile. “Maybe I just remind him of someone?”

The conversation shifted, and though the topic ended there, you couldn’t help but linger on what Jun-hee said. In-ho, looking at you? Your mind spun with questions that you couldn't quite answer. But before you could dive deeper into your thoughts, the group returned from the bathroom, and the moment was gone.

Gi-hun gathered everyone, asking them to bring their mattresses and bedding to your designated spot. You all exchanged confused looks but did as instructed, gathering pillows and blankets. It was clear there was something important going on, and it wasn’t lost on anyone.

As you and Jun-hee handed out the bedding, the tension in the air grew. Jung-bae spoke up. “Hey, is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under here.”

Gi-hun continued setting down blankets without looking up. “Once the lights go out, someone might attack us.”

His words grabbed everyone's attention, and you paused, glancing around. Dae-ho, curiosity now evident in his eyes, asked, “Why would anyone do that?”

“The prize money goes up every time someone dies. It’s part of the game they designed,” Gi-hun explained, his voice tense with the weight of the situation.

You frowned, the idea feeling far-fetched at first. But as you thought about the desperation you’d seen in people—and the way some of the others eyed the prize board with hunger—it started to make a disturbing kind of sense. Gi-hun’s words seemed to settle over the group like a cold shiver, but In-ho wasn’t convinced. “Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting,” he said, shaking his head. “Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun turned to him sharply, fury in his eyes. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here, you have no idea how people can change in a place like this…”

In-ho trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable. “I see… I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, but Gi-hun, though still angry, nodded with some understanding. “We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.”

“I’ll take the first watch. You should decide the order for the rest,” Gi-hun added, continuing to spread the last of the blankets.

It wasn’t long after that you found yourself lying on the bottom bed, the silence in the room heavy. You couldn’t tell what time it was, but sleep seemed distant. With your eyes closed, you tried to rest, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn’t shake the thoughts of Jun-hee’s question, of In-ho’s gaze, and of all the tension in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t stay still any longer. You quietly rolled out of the bed, careful not to disturb Jun-hee beside you. As you stood, you rubbed your eyes, still groggy but wide awake. You walked over to the one who was supposed to be keeping watch.

“Hey... get some sleep. I’ve got it from here,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath in the darkness.

When no response came, you paused, your heart beating a little faster. Had you imagined it? You slapped your cheek lightly, half-expecting to wake up from a dream, but the sting was real. This was no dream. You were still in the game. But who was supposed to be guarding?

As you glanced toward the guard, your breath caught in your throat. There, in the dim light, stood In-ho, staring at you with wide, almost startled eyes.

“In-ho...” you whispered, the name escaping before you could stop it.

He blinked, his expression unreadable. “[Name]... sit down, will you?” His voice was quiet, laced with an undercurrent of tension. You did as he asked, your body moving on its own, though the atmosphere between the two of you felt thick with unspoken words.

You sat there, your knees pressed together. The silence stretched, heavy and thick. There were so many things unsaid between you, so many apologies left unspoken, so many reasons left unexplained. Neither of you seemed to know where to start, but the distance between you had never felt more real. You had shared a bond once, and now it was hard to find the words to bridge the gap that had formed.

In-ho shifted slightly, as if searching for something to say, but still, nothing came. Neither of you moved for what felt like hours, both of you stuck in a place neither knew how to navigate.

The silence between you and In-ho lingered, thick and suffocating, each of you carrying the weight of the years since you’d last spoken. Finally, In-ho shifted, breaking the stillness, his voice low and tight.

"[Name], I—I'm sorry," he started, his words hesitant, as though testing the waters.

"I shouldn't have acted like that, not when you were leaving. On our last day together, I—" He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours, searching for the right words in the dim light. "I was so angry, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t mean to push you away. I never should have let my emotions control me like that, especially when I knew you were going away."

Your chest tightened at his words. The apology you’d waited for, yet feared to hear, was finally being spoken, but the bitterness still clung to you. You swallowed hard, forcing the anger down, trying not to let it rise again. It felt like you were walking a fine line, torn between the hurt and the understanding you wished you could give him.

"You know," you said softly, voice wavering, "I was angry, too. You pushed me away, In-ho. I never got to explain myself, to tell you why I had to leave. It hurt so much that you didn’t even give me a chance." You paused, trying to steady yourself. "I don’t know what you thought, but I wasn’t running away from you. I... I never wanted to hurt you."

In-ho’s eyes flickered, regret and guilt tugging at his expression. His hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed at his side, as if searching for the right words but struggling to find them.

"I thought you were just... leaving, leaving me, leaving us." he said quietly, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know if I could let you go. But you were going, and it felt like I was losing you, like you’d be gone for good. I was angry that you didn’t even try to stay. I thought you had already made your choice." He swallowed hard, his gaze still on the floor. "I thought you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you."

Tears threatened at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was it. The truth you’d wanted to hear, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. The anger you’d carried for so long still clung to you, but in this moment, it was tinged with understanding.

"I didn’t know you felt that way," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I thought you hated me for leaving. I thought I’d ruined everything, and you’d never forgive me for it." You took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in your chest. A tremor crept into your voice as you fought to hold back the emotions welling up inside you. 

"I understood why you did it," you said, voice cracking slightly. "I understood it at the time. You were scared, just like I was. But it didn’t make it hurt any less." Your voice dropped. "I didn’t know how to feel. You were the one person I thought I could rely on, and then you turned away without a word. And I had no choice but to carry that weight with me."

Your eyes locked onto his, your heart aching at the sight of the guilt in his expression. “I spent so much time angry at you, blaming you for leaving me like that. But now... now I know we were both just lost. I didn’t know how to handle it, and neither did you.”

In-ho’s face softened, his expression full of regret. "I wish I had known how to handle it better. I wish I had been braver... for you, for us. I should’ve told you how I felt, instead of shutting myself off."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, both of you silently processing what had been said. Then, as if a dam had broken, you continued, feeling a rush of emotions that you hadn’t been able to express before.

"All those years... I kept wondering if I could’ve done something different. If I could have convinced my parents to stay. But I was too proud, too scared. And when we left, it felt like the world just... stopped. I couldn't move forward, not without you. I didn’t know how to move on. And I don’t know if I ever truly did." Your voice cracked, the weight of it all coming crashing down in that moment.

In-ho’s breath hitched as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was scared, too. I didn’t know how to handle the idea of losing you. But I realize now... that by pushing you away, I was only making it worse. I’m sorry, [Name]. I’m so sorry for everything.”

You both sat there in the quiet, the weight of the past hanging heavily in the air between you. In-ho’s voice broke through the silence again, softer this time. “I should’ve been better for you. I should’ve told you how I felt, not let my fear take over.”

Your heart ached hearing the sincerity in his words. He was so close now, but there was still a lingering distance between you. His hand hovered near yours, unsure if you’d let him in. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. The touch was like a lifeline, pulling you both back from the uncertainty.

In-ho’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand finally resting on top of yours. He shifted slightly, moving a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze now, something you hadn’t seen in him before. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to swallow hard to keep them from spilling over. For so long, you’d carried this burden of unspoken words, of lost time. But now, sitting here beside him, it felt like the weight was lifting, bit by bit.

In-ho seemed to sense your struggle, his hand gently squeezing yours. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I never wanted you to feel abandoned or alone.”

The words were all you needed. With a shaky breath, you leaned toward him, resting your head on his shoulder. The closeness between you felt like a reunion, a connection rediscovered after years apart. In-ho’s arm slipped around you, pulling you just a little closer, as though he never wanted to let go again.

He ran his hand through your hair, slowly, gently, as if trying to calm the storm inside you. The motion was soothing, and for the first time in so long, you felt at peace. The anger and the hurt slowly started to fade, replaced by something new—something warm.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

In-ho paused, his breath hitching as he processed your words. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his face inches from yours. “I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

You both sat there in the quiet, letting the words hang in the air, surrounded by the unspoken promise of a new beginning. The past wasn’t something that could be erased, but it didn’t have to define you anymore. What mattered now was that you were here, together, in this moment.

In-ho held you close as you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you’d kept inside for so long. You felt his chest rise and fall against you, steady and warm, as his presence grounded you. After a long moment of silence, he pulled back just enough to look at your face, his expression filled with concern and curiosity.

“What happened to you, [Name]?” he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. “What happened all of this? I’ve been wondering for years.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as the memories threatened to spill out. But, in his embrace, it felt safer to finally speak the truth. Slowly, you opened your mouth, your voice a whisper against his chest.

“I didn’t want to leave, In-ho,” you murmured. “But I had no choice.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of your past pressing down on you. “My parents... My father left for someone else, and my mother... she just disappeared. One day she was there, and the next, she was gone. I was... alone.”

You felt In-ho’s grip tighten around you as you spoke, but he said nothing. He just listened, offering his silent support.

“I tried to hold it together,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But the bills kept piling up, and I couldn’t see a way out. I was working non-stop, just trying to keep up, but it never seemed to end. So, I thought, maybe a small loan would help... just to get by for a little while. But it only made things worse. I kept borrowing, and the interest kept stacking up. Eventually, I couldn’t keep up at all. To cope with everything, I started drinking. I just needed something to numb the pain.”

You paused, trying to steady your breathing. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and now there was no stopping it.

“After a while, it became a habit,” you said, your voice shaking. “I couldn’t face the world without it. And... I lost everything. My job, my sense of myself. I kept pushing people away because I didn’t know how to fix anything. I didn’t even know how to fix myself.”

In-ho’s hand gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer against his shoulder as if to shield you from the weight of your own words. He didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence settle between you. Then, his voice broke through the stillness.

“I’m sorry, [Name], I wish I was there with you during those times,” In-ho murmured, his voice filled with regret, each word heavy, like it carried all the years of silence and distance between you.

You let out a quiet sigh, the ache in your chest growing as you tried to push back against the weight of the past. The pain, the loss—it was all there, hovering just beneath the surface, but you chose to focus on what was right in front of you now. You chose the present. “It’s okay, In-ho,” you said softly, trying to steady your voice, but your heart was louder than it had been in years. “What matters now is you’re here with me, just like before.”

He was still so close to you, your bodies pressed together in the embrace, his breath uneven against your shoulder. His hand traced the back of your neck, his touch gentle, as though trying to reassure you, to hold you together. But there was more to it—something unspoken, a pull between you that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence, felt so right, and yet, it stirred something deeper, something dangerous.

His fingers grazed your cheek, his touch soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters. He lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel that silent question in the air, one you had both ignored for so long. Could you finally give in? Could you finally let go of the years that had kept you apart?

You wanted to lean in. You wanted to close that distance, to feel his lips against yours and forget everything else. All the pain, the years apart, the weight of the world—it could disappear, just for a moment. But your mind raced with doubts. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was just a fleeting feeling? What if you were getting swept up in the moment, in the desperation of it all?

And then, In-ho’s lips brushed against your forehead, his kiss tender and almost like a promise. You didn’t hesitate this time. The distance between you seemed to disappear, and without thinking, you leaned in. Your lips parted, and your breath mingled with his as you slowly closed the gap, inch by inch. Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears. It was all so familiar, yet so new. You could feel everything—the pain, the longing, the need. You wanted to erase the distance, to bridge the gap that had haunted you both for so long.

But just as you were about to close the distance completely, just as you were about to feel his lips against yours, something flashed through your mind. The memory of him speaking of his wife, of the woman who was supposedly ill in the hospital, came crashing back. Your chest tightened. He was already married. You pulled back suddenly, your breath caught in your throat.

“What about your wife, In-ho?” Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. The words had been building inside you, but you couldn’t stop them. The questions came rushing to the surface. The connection, the closeness—it felt so real, but how could it be? How could you trust this moment when he had a sick wife waiting for his return?

In-ho froze, his eyes widening for a brief moment. Then, as though realizing the weight of what he’d said, his expression softened. He reached for you immediately, his hands cupping your face gently, almost desperately, like he couldn’t bear the space between you now.

“No,” he said, his voice low and strained. “You don’t understand. I lied to them. The wife... the illness... even my name. I did it for safety.” He explained as fast as he could.

“I swear to you, [Name], I wanted you. I always have. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve been waiting... waiting for you. All these years.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping over everything you had believed. The confession shattered your doubt. The years apart, the silence, the feelings that had never gone away. You had thought he was moving on, that he had a life without you, but now he was telling you that it had always been you. That he had always wanted you.

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, and for the first time in years, you saw it—his vulnerability, his sincerity. He had waited for you. He wasn’t lying now. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and in that moment, you whispered, almost to yourself, “I never stopped thinking about you, either.”

That was it. Your hands, almost on their own, moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The hesitation, the doubt, all of it was gone. You leaned in again, this time with no fear, no second-guessing. You could feel his lips, just inches from yours, and this time, it was going to happen. There was no turning back.

But just as you closed your eyes, just as you felt the warmth of his lips moving toward yours, the room suddenly lit up. The loudspeaker crackled to life, its cold, mechanical voice slicing through the moment like a knife.

“Third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.”

The announcement shattered the moment like glass and reality rushed in. You pulled away quickly, both of you flustered, eyes wide as reality snapped back into place. In-ho let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. His gaze, still soft from the moment, quickly shifted into irritation.

You, too, felt your cheeks burn with the sudden shift. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all washing over you. “Of course,” you muttered, voice a little shaky. “Couldn’t be that easy, huh?”

In-ho shot you a look, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “I swear, they have the worst timing.” He shook his head, clearly irritated by how things had unfolded, but there was a trace of humor in his voice that made the tension feel lighter.

You both sat there for a moment, the awkwardness of the interruption still hanging in the air but somehow feeling less heavy. It was like you’d both just come back from the edge of something important—and the abrupt break made you laugh despite the weight of everything. In-ho let out a short chuckle too, the irritation in his eyes still there but fading, replaced by a sense of shared frustration with the situation.

You glanced at him, eyes still lingering as you both realized how close you'd come to crossing that line. But there was no point in lingering on it now—not with the game calling you back to reality.

“Guess the universe isn’t ready for us yet,” you said, shaking your head.

In-ho gave a soft, exasperated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “Yeah, well, it never really was on our side before,” he muttered, then stood, adjusting his clothes and brushing off the frustration like it was nothing.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before turning your back, to tend to the pregnant girl you had been caring for. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t feel quite as impossible as it had before. In-ho followed suit, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary. For a moment, the room felt like it belonged to just the two of you again. But the third game was calling, and you both knew you had to face it. Together, this time.

The third game was Mingle. A game where you had to form pairs based on a number assigned and get into a room within 30 seconds. As the platform spun beneath your feet, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. It reminded you of times spent playing this game with friends back in Gyeonggi-do. You remembered one time in particular, when he had gotten into a fight with a common friend, because of the said game. You laughed softly at the memory, causing In-ho to glance over at you, curiosity in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low but still full of interest.

“Nothing,” you said with a soft chuckle. “I just remembered how Byung-hun was angry when you pulled him off of me, so you and I could be partners instead. Didn’t peg you to be a jealous kid.”

In-ho immediately bristled, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Hey, I wasn’t jealous. He was hurting you by gripping you so hard.”

“It didn’t even hurt!” you teased, but the corner of your lips twitched upward, unable to keep a smile off your face. “You’re just jealous.”

“Whatever you say…” In-ho muttered, stepping onto the platform. You followed him, shaking your head but smiling at the same time.

After four rounds, you all began preparing for the final one. The rounds were nerve-wracking, the tension palpable, but you had made it this far with the help of your amazing group. The platform began to spin, the music creating a frantic rhythm as it played in the background. You found yourself standing beside Jun-hee, instinctively holding her steady to keep her from stumbling as the platform jerked beneath your feet.

“What do you think the next number will be?” Jung-bae asked, his voice alert as he looked around.

Without hesitation, In-ho spoke up. “Two.”

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, glancing at In-ho, silently asking him to explain.

“There are 50 rooms, and 126 people still alive. Everyone will need a partner, but there won’t be enough rooms. This is how they conduct these games.” In-ho’s eyes were sharp, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of awe at how quickly he had figured it out.

And as it turned out, he was right.

2.

Everyone paused, looking around at each other, wondering who would pair up with whom. Before you could grab Jun-hee to pair up, In-ho suddenly grabbed your arm, pulling you along with him. The rest of your group—Dae-ho with Jun-hee, Gi-hun with Jung-bae—quickly followed, all of you rushing to find a room.

You spotted an open door and, without thinking, you shouted. “Over there!” You both sprinted toward it, but before you could step inside, a man suddenly tackled you to the ground. Your head slammed hard against the floor, and for a moment, everything spun.

In-ho’s face twisted with fury as he watched the man try to crawl into the room you had been aiming for, disregarding you entirely. Without thinking, he reached for the man, grabbing him by the neck and shoving him away from you.

“Get in the room!” In-ho shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. You were dizzy and nauseous, the world spinning around you, but you didn’t hesitate. You stumbled to your feet, still feeling the lingering effects of the impact, and forced yourself into the room, fighting through the haze in your head.

But as soon as you entered, something coiled around your neck, a vice-like grip tightening with brutal force. You gasped, your throat constricting as you tried to draw in a breath, but the air seemed to vanish. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping into the periphery of your sight. Panic surged like a tidal wave, and you clawed at the hands choking you, but they were relentless. Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one feeling more like a plea for life than a simple breath.

The world around you was fading, your chest tightening, your limbs growing heavier. You struggled harder, your body thrashing, trying to free yourself, but the darkness was swallowing you whole.

And then—just when you thought you would lose consciousness—there was a shift. The grip loosened. The constriction around your throat vanished in an instant, and you gasped, desperately drawing in the breath you had been fighting for. The air tasted sharp, bitter, as if the world itself was trying to punish you for the terror you had just experienced.

And there he was—In-ho.

He stood over you, his face a mask of fury, eyes wild and unrecognizable with the force of his anger. His knuckles were white, gripping his fist tightly, as though the act of hitting the man who had attacked you had only just begun to settle in. His face was twisted in a way you’d never seen before. Something inside him was unraveling—breaking.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned on the man who had attacked you, and the sound of his fist meeting the man’s face was deafening. A sickening crack echoed through the room, sharp and cruel, as In-ho’s punch sent the man crashing to the floor. But In-ho wasn’t done. The fury inside him was a beast, a monster he couldn’t control. He grabbed the man by the neck, his fingers tightening with savage force, twisting, until there was an awful snap.

The sound of a life being crushed, broken beyond repair, sent a shockwave through your body. Your stomach turned violently, and your chest tightened, as though you could feel the man’s life draining out of him, just like your own hope of ever seeing In-ho as you once had. It wasn’t just the man who had died. In-ho had killed, and something inside him had died, too.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t move. You stared at him, frozen by what he had just done, your heart racing as the gravity of the moment began to settle in. His chest heaved, each breath coming out ragged and uneven. But it wasn’t the man’s blood on his hands that terrified you the most. It was the look in his eyes. Dark. Soulless. As though he was searching for something—anything—to bring him back to the man he once was. But it was gone. That warmth. That kindness. All of it.

"In-ho..." you whispered, your voice cracking as you reached for him, but he wouldn’t look at you.

His gaze was distant, bloodshot, as though he couldn’t even recognize the person standing in front of him. For a brief moment, you feared you were losing him—losing the man you thought you knew.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

“In-ho,” you whispered again, more urgently this time, your voice thick with unshed tears. “Thank you. For saving my life. Again.”

His jaw clenched, the guilt settling into every line of his face. “I’m sorry, [Name],” he said, his voice breaking, and you could hear the remorse in every word, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, your heart hammering as you let out a shaky breath. “What are you sorry for?” Your voice was stronger now, fueled by a strange mixture of anger and desperation. “That bastard almost killed me, and I’m glad he’s gone. I’m glad he’s dead. What’s there to apologize for, In-ho? You saved me. You did what had to be done.”

But In-ho’s gaze softened for only a moment before it hardened again, his hands curling into fists. He was still haunted by what he had done. You could see it in the tight set of his shoulders, in the way he stood, as though he was trying to hold himself together. But the cracks were showing, and you couldn’t let him fall apart in front of you. Not when you needed him most.

Before you could say anything else, the adrenaline that had kept you both on edge began to fade, and the weight of everything—the violence, the pain, the fear—settled into the pit of your stomach. You threw your arms around him, not caring about anything else. Not the blood, not the death, not the mess that surrounded you.

You held him tight, pressing your face into his chest as sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw. “I thought I was going to die…” you whispered between breaths, your voice trembling with the weight of the fear you had felt. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know what was going to happen...”

In-ho didn’t say anything at first. He just held you, his arms coming around you in a protective, desperate way, like he was trying to shield you from the madness, from the horrors that were closing in on you both. His chest was shaking with the same unspoken terror, his breath ragged in your hair as he held you closer, as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.

You closed your eyes, pressing harder into him, the weight of his words sinking into your heart. But no matter how tightly he held you, there was a part of you that was already broken, already afraid that the man you had just seen—the man who had crossed a line he never should’ve had to—was never going to come back.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

You both stood there in silence for a long moment, caught in the aftermath of what had just unfolded, the weight of the violence and the fear finally catching up to you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you knew—no matter what happened next, you weren’t alone.

After the third game, the group gathered in the makeshift fort Gi-hun had set up, each player lost in their own thoughts. The atmosphere was heavy as they processed the brutal reality of the games. Gi-hun asked Jung-bae to report the number of players who had voted to continue. The tally revealed 56 players had voted O, while the X team remained outnumbered by twelve votes.

In-ho suggested that if six players switched their votes, it would result in a tie, and seven switches would tip the scales in their favor. The tension was palpable as everyone prepared for the vote. When the results were announced, it was a tie. Relief spread through the group, prompting cheers, but their celebration was short-lived.

The guards announced that a tie meant another vote would take place the following day. Dinner was served, and while the group shared light moments to ease their nerves, the tension lingered, a silent reminder of the stakes.

That night, chaos erupted when a fight broke out in the bathroom between the two sides. The O team accused the X team of initiating the attack, while the X team retaliated with their own accusations. The conflict escalated quickly, spreading through the room like wildfire. By the time order was restored, Team X had gained an advantage, now numbering 48 players compared to Team O's 47.

“Two people died on our side,” Player 047 said grimly, sitting down. “We lost three overall, but we’re still ahead by one vote.”

Jung-bae tried to remain optimistic, his voice steady. “As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win tomorrow.”

Suddenly, the announcement broke the silence.

“Attention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

Player 047 turned to the group, his voice firm. “Listen, no one can change their mind, okay? We’ll win tomorrow. Stay strong, and we’ll make it through.”

The group murmured their agreement, but Gi-hun’s expression remained tense.

Dae-ho leaned in, glancing toward the opposing team. “Those guys are acting really suspicious. They’re planning something—I can feel it.”

Jung-bae waved him off. “Whatever. Once we win tomorrow’s vote, it’ll all be over.”

“No. Once the lights go out, they’ll attack us.” Gi-hun spoke, his voice calm but filled with tension.

The room went silent. Player 007’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, They know we’re at an advantage,” He said, voice steady despite the situation. “They’ll try to kill some of us tonight to even the odds and raise the prize money.”

“Then we should attack first. We need to take them by surprise,” In-ho suggested, his tone firm. His words were met with agreement from Player 047, who nodded and added, “We have the women and elderly on our side. If they attack first, we’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”

But Gi-hun raised a hand, his expression grim. “No. We can’t start a fight like that.”

The group turned to him, confused by his sudden objection. Gi-hun’s voice cut through the growing tension, calm yet weighted. “We need to stay calm. If we kill each other, that’s exactly what they want.”

“Who are they? Who are you talking about?”

“The makers of the game,” Gi-hun said bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. His words hung heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs around the room. “They’re the ones who want us to kill each other. They’re watching us right now.”

A chill ran down your spine as you processed his words. The room fell silent, each player lost in thought. Dae-ho broke the quiet, his voice tight. “Where are they?” 

Gi-hun slowly looked up, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Up there,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. You all follow. His eyes seemed to pierce the walls as though he could see straight into them. “The control rooms are above us. Their leader wears a black mask. If we capture him, we’ll have leverage.”

In-ho scoffed slightly, though there was no mockery in his tone. “How are you going to fight them? They’ve got guns.”

“We’ll take their guns.”

“From the masked men?” Player 246 asked, his disbelief evident.

Gi-hun nodded resolutely. “Yes. We’ll catch them off guard. They won’t expect it.”

“That’s too dangerous,” In-ho said, shaking his head. “Even if we manage to steal their guns, we’ll be outnumbered.”

Gi-hun’s gaze hardened. “What’s your plan, then? Sit around and wait to die? Watch as they pick us off, one by one? Is that your idea of survival?” His voice rose slightly, the desperation in his tone cutting through the tension.

The silence that followed was suffocating, each player wrestling with the grim reality of their situation. You could see some heads nodding in reluctant agreement, while others remained still, their fear paralyzing them.

Player 120 spoke up hesitantly, her voice trembling. “Do we even stand a chance?”

“We do,” Gi-hun said, his voice unwavering. “If we strike first, we catch them off guard. They’ll never see it coming. The people running this game think we’re powerless, but we have the upper hand now. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

“How do you plan to take their guns?” In-ho asked again, his skepticism still evident.

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate. His determination was clear, as if he had already played the scenario out in his head. “Once the lights go out, we’ll have our chance.”

Lights out in ten.

The countdown began, the numbers pounding in your skull like the beat of a war drum. You lay stiffly on your bed, your muscles tense and ready to spring. Your heart raced as Gi-hun’s instructions echoed in your mind—Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quickly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us.

You clutched the edge of the bed, your nails digging into the rough wood. The seconds dragged, each one stretching impossibly long, amplifying the terror building in your chest.

One.

The lights flickered violently before plunging the room into suffocating darkness. The sudden silence was deafening. You could hear every breath you took, each one louder than the last, as if your own body was betraying you.

For a brief, terrible moment, the room was still.

The silence was suffocating, a heavy void pressing down on you as though the darkness itself were alive. You held your breath, every muscle locked in place, straining to catch the faintest sound.

Then the chaos began.

Screams erupted, raw and animalistic, tearing through the suffocating silence like claws raking through flesh. Heavy footsteps thundered across the room as bodies scrambled and collided in the dark. The sound of someone slamming into a metal bed reverberated like a gunshot, followed by the sickening, wet crunch of bone meeting steel.

The sharp clang of makeshift weapons rang out, chaotic and dissonant, punctuated by the grotesque, unmistakable sound of flesh being pierced. It was chaos, raw and brutal, an orchestra of horror conducted by desperation.

You didn’t think—there wasn’t time to think. Instinct took over as you dove to the floor, crawling under the bed as Gi-hun had warned. Your breath came in short, panicked bursts, and you pressed yourself flat against the cold floor, willing the shadows to swallow you whole.

The room was a nightmare brought to life. The desperate shrieks of the dying mingled with the guttural grunts of attackers. Somewhere close, you heard a chilling, high-pitched laugh—a sound that sent icy needles of fear racing up your spine. The stench of sweat, blood, and raw terror filled your nose, a nauseating cocktail that made your stomach churn.

A body hit the ground nearby with a sickening thud, so close you could feel the vibrations reverberate through the floor. You froze, every nerve in your body screaming as you listened to their gasping breaths turn into choking, gurgling sounds.

You wanted to turn away, to block out the awful noise, but there was nowhere to go. Even pressing your hands over your ears couldn’t drown out the terrible symphony of suffering.

The screams were getting closer. You clenched your jaw, biting back a whimper as you pressed yourself tighter against the floor, your trembling fingers digging into the cold metal beneath the bed.

Your heart stopped when you felt it—a hand clamping down on your shoulder, strong and unyielding.

Your blood turned to ice, the chill spreading through your veins. Panic seized you, and you thrashed instinctively, your mind consumed by the singular thought that someone had found you. You opened your mouth to scream, but a second hand covered it before a sound could escape.

For a moment, terror blinded you, until a familiar face appeared as the lights flickered.

It was In-ho.

His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the room with laser focus. “Quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, barely audible over the chaos.

Relief swept over you, so sudden and overwhelming that it left you momentarily breathless. But it didn’t last. 

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, followed by the sickening sound of someone being dragged across the floor. You flinched violently, but In-ho’s hand tightened on your shoulder, grounding you. His grip was firm, steadying you even as your body shook uncontrollably.

The two of you stayed motionless, his presence the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the violence raged around you. Every scream, every thud, every awful, wet crunch seemed amplified in the darkness, etching itself into your mind. You wanted to shut your eyes, to block it all out, but the terror kept them wide open, unblinking.

Gradually, the chaos began to subside. The screams turned into weak sobs, the sounds of struggle fading into an eerie, oppressive silence. Then came the mechanical hiss of the doors opening, cold and detached, signaling that the nightmare was over.

But you knew better. It was far from over.

In-ho’s hand finally relaxed on your shoulder, and you turned to him. His face was unreadable in the dim light, but there was something in his eyes—something fleeting, unspoken. Before you could say a word, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. Then, without waiting for a response, he crawled out from under the bed, disappearing into the shadows.

You stared after him, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. The display of affection, so sudden and unexpected, left you reeling. By the time you snapped out of your stupor, he was already gone.

The sound of gunfire shattered your thoughts, sharp and jarring, each shot echoing like a death knell in the enclosed space. You curled into yourself, covering your ears as tears pricked at your eyes.

Please let them be safe, you prayed silently, over and over again, the words a desperate mantra. Please let them succeed.

After a while, Gi-hun’s voice finally rang out—calm but commanding—it felt like the first breath after being submerged underwater. “Hold fire!”

The gunfire stopped.

Slowly, you crawled out from under the bed, your limbs trembling so violently it was a struggle to move. The room was a battlefield, littered with bodies and soaked in blood. Your eyes darted frantically, searching for one face, one person who mattered more than anything in that moment.

Your heart leapt when you spotted Jun-hee crouched nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Jun-hee,” you whispered hoarsely, stumbling toward her. You dropped to your knees, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to you like a lifeline, her body trembling against yours.

The two of you stayed huddled together, finding solace in each other’s presence, until Gi-hun’s voice called out again.

“It’s safe to come out now.”

When everyone was told to gather in the middle of the room, you lingered, pretending to adjust your shoes. Jun-hee gave you a worried glance, but you waved her off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right there. Just... something I need to do.”

She hesitated before nodding, her small frame disappearing into the growing crowd.

Your heart raced as you scanned the room, the chaos of bloodied survivors and flickering lights making it harder to find him. But then you saw him—a familiar silhouette, half-hidden in the shadows of a secluded corner.

In-ho.

He was focused, his movements precise as he disarmed a fallen attacker, slipping the weapon into his grasp. His stoic expression didn’t falter as he worked. Even now, in the aftermath of chaos, he was calculating, steadfast, and unshaken.

Your breath hitched. You knew this wasn’t necessary. You knew you should be with the others in the middle of the room like you’d been instructed. But the ache in your chest, the fear gnawing at your sanity, pushed you forward. You couldn’t leave without speaking to him—without feeling the warmth of his presence one last time.

When you spotted him in a secluded corner, hunched over a stash of weapons he was collecting from fallen players, your resolve solidified. Silently, you crossed the chaotic room, weaving past overturned beds and scattered bodies. Your heart thundered in your chest, not from fear, but from the weight of what you needed to say.

Without a second thought, you ran towards him, your steps quick and silent. When you reached him, you didn’t wait for him to notice you. You immediately threw yourself into his arms, catching him off guard.

“[Name]!” he gasped, his voice sharp with surprise as he caught you. He always caught you. His hands steadied you automatically, even as confusion flashed across his face. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be with the others. It’s not—”

Before he could finish, you cupped his face and kissed him deeply. The movement was so sudden, so full of everything you’d kept locked away, that it caught him off guard. He froze, his lips still against yours, the cold metal of the gun slipping from his grip and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you thought your heart might shatter. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he kissed you back. His hands moved to your waist, holding you as though you might slip away if he let go. The kiss deepened, his lips trembling against yours, and you could feel the war inside him—the pull of his duty against the part of him that wanted to stay here forever.

His lips moved against yours, his hands gripping your waist as though anchoring himself to you. The kiss was messy, desperate, and full of everything you couldn’t say out loud.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingling with his, your voice broke. “In-ho…” You could barely get his name out.

“[Name],” he murmured, his voice low and trembling. “You shouldn’t be here, you know that.”

“I don’t care.” You gripped the front of his jacket, your tears spilling freely now. “I don’t care about any of that. I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice cracked, betraying the lie. His hands shook where they rested on your waist. “But you—you need to go back. You need to stay safe. I can’t…” He trailed off, his eyes darting away, as if meeting your gaze might break him completely.

“In-ho,” you choked out, clutching his jacket tightly. “Won’t you stay, In-ho? For me?” your voice crackled with desperation.

His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. For a second, you thought he might say yes. But then, his face crumpled, and he shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking. “I want to—I want to so badly. But I can’t. I have to help them, [Name]. I have to make sure they have a chance.”

You tried to hold back the tears, tried to be strong for him, but the floodgates opened anyway. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face against his chest. His arms wrapped around you fully now, steady and grounding, even as your world fell apart.

Of course, this was In-ho. The one who always puts others before himself. The one who bore every burden silently, who carried the weight of guilt and responsibility like it was the only thing keeping him alive. This was In-ho—your In-ho. The man who had always been so much more than you deserved.

And yet, even if it hurt, you loved him for it. You always would.

“What about me?” you whispered, tears streaming freely down your face. “What about us? Don’t we matter?”

His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears even as his own filled his eyes. “You matter,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’ve always mattered. More than anything. More than anyone. But if I don’t do this… none of us will make it out of here.”

“In-ho…” Your voice broke, and he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered into your hair, his voice unsteady but full of resolve. “I swear, I’ll come back to you.”

“Please,” you choked out, clinging to him like your life depended on it. “Please, In-ho, don’t make me lose you again. I can’t—I can’t do this… not without you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if trying to memorize the feel of you. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Deep down, you both knew his promise was a fragile thing, held together by hope.

He leaned down, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His lips met yours once more, this time in a lingering kiss, slow and deep, filled with everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. The chaos around you faded into a distant hum, and the weight of the moment lightened just enough for you to feel the depth of his love. A love as desperate and fleeting as the seconds you shared.

When he pulled away, his lips brushed against your forehead, a soft sigh escaping him as if the kiss had stolen the last of his strength. “I’ll be extra safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betrayed the agony tearing him apart. “I promise, [Name].”

The promise felt hollow, like a brittle shell barely holding together.

You nodded weakly, though every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull him close, to make him stay. But you knew. You knew who he was—knew that In-ho was the kind of man who always put others first, and there was nothing you could say or do to change that.

“I’ll come back to you,” he said, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as you. “You have to believe that.”

Your voice wavered as you whispered, “I believe you, In-ho.” But the ache in your chest said otherwise.

He took a step back, his hands lingering on your arms before they fell away entirely. The warmth of his touch disappeared as he turned, moving toward the shadows with quiet determination.

Your heart shattered as you stood there, frozen in place, watching him walk away. It felt like every part of you was being ripped apart, your chest heaving with silent sobs. You wanted to scream his name, to demand he turn around, to beg him not to go. But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the raw, suffocating pain of letting him go.

As his figure grew smaller and smaller, the reality of what just happened sank in. The promise he made, the kiss he gave, the pain in his eyes—they all felt like goodbyes masquerading as hope.

As the silence closed in, the thought struck you with brutal clarity. This was the last time you would ever see him.

And it broke you, how painfully right you were.

---

No. 7 from the fanfic troupes with Dazai pls 🙏✨

Everytime I think of the roommate trope I think of vine lmao. Reader is gender neutral!

Update: I was suppose to post this last night and I passed out instead my bad yall 😭😭😭

CW: minor language, mentions of suicide (cause it’s Dazai) but nothing graphic is mentioned

“And They Were Roommates” Trope with Dazai!

Dream’s 800 Follower Special 📖

Your roommate was… very eccentric, to say the least. That was the nicest way you could put it.

He’s a horrible cook, he uses almost the whole bottle of detergent and doesn’t tell you, takes forever in the bathroom, and you have caught him on more than one occasion trying some new concoction or method to try and leave this world (which scared the hell out of you at first, but now you just scold him for wasting money and out of concern for his mental state).

But he does pay his share of rent and bills on time, he offers to share his bottle of alcohol with you, he’s somehow always find a way to make you crack a smile even when he knows that you’re irritated. He’s made it more…lively here. From your experiences of having past roommates, he’s been the best one you had which is very surprising. Does he have moments that make you very tempted to smother him with his pillow (which he would encourage no doubt)? Of course. But then you think about how fun your life has been recently and how you can’t picture living with anyone else, and the thought goes away.

But something changed recently. You started to notice more about him.

How contagious his genuine laugh was, how the simplest touch made your heart race, how much butterflies you get in your stomach just hearing him say your name- the list could go on and on honestly. You weren’t expecting this arrangement to be like this when you agreed for him to move in- just another body that’s here to find a cheap place to live and that’s it. That was until he came and introduced you to something new, something refreshing, and you weren’t mad that you were proven wrong for once.

The prank wars, unplanned movie nights, late night talks that left you both vulnerable- it was all so refreshing and he helped you welcome it all in. What started out as a business agreement with strangers came to bloom something beautiful between you two, something special. You were smiling a lot more these days because of him, and it made you feel so light inside. It was like you guys were already a couple and-

Then you realized what was happening and your heart sank.

“Oh no.”

“Hm? Everything okay?”

And your situation was only worsening when you heard Dazai’s voice, and you choked when you saw how close he was (he still didn’t understand the concept of personal space). He looked curious and he wouldn’t stop leaning in-

“IgottagoBYE!”

He moved back when you rushed to your room and slammed the door. And you lost count of how many times you screamed into your pillow that night.

Before you made what is possibly the worst decision of your life, you did the responsible thing as an adult- and hid yourself away until you were convinced that your feelings were just temporary. Except that they never went away, and only grew stronger. But just as they grew, so did your pain- you’ve been distancing yourself from him until you get your head together. You can’t fall in love with him, he’s your roommate! Getting your heart broken and then having to live together was a nightmare that you’ve seen come true too many times, and that was not a risk you were willing to take. You weren’t even planning on being this close with him to begin with!

Besides, you doubt that he would even look at you the same way. If anything, you would just be wasting his time, so why not save yourself the heartache now? You weren’t in middle school anymore, you didn’t have time for fleeting crushes. You’re an adult now that has to face the reality that the advice to follow your heart doesn’t always work and that’s okay. It’s time to wake up from this little fantasy and get back into the real world. Just keep acting like everything is normal, like nothing is wrong, like you’re not falling in deeper and deeper each day, and everything will turn out fine.

—

Everything is not turning out fine.

You and Dazai are just roommates- yep. Just roommates. It wasn’t uncommon for roommates to be laying on each other when watching a movie. Nope, it’s totally common to do this between friends.

And it’s not weird for how he pulled you into a random dance, gliding and holding you in his arms so gentle. He’s just messing with you like always, even if you haven’t laughed like this in a while and didn’t want it to end.

It’s definitely not out of place for what you hear through the walls too. The walls are paper thin, so of course you would hear some of the things he said (but the way your heart felt like it was going to give out at any second when you swear that you heard your name escape from his lips among other things). All normal in your eyes- YEP HAHA. Totally no romantic feelings involved, NOPE.

How you got roped into drinking with him after coming in so late from work still remained a mystery.

Drinking with Dazai wasn’t uncommon, and he already shuffled you to the table and into a chair and poured you a glass before you could even open your mouth. And honestly, you needed the drink to somewhat drown out the troubles of work and your love life. He knew what he was doing- he wasn’t sneaky in getting your favorite brand either. Sly bastard.

The warmth was already soaking into your body from your first glass. It felt nice to chat with him like this, with no stress hanging over your head (at least for the time being anyway). It’s easy to forget about your worries when you’re with him, and alcohol doesn’t even have to be included.

“What is it with you and bothering that Kunikida guy?”

“Can you blame me? It’s free entertainment! You would do it too if you could see how he reacts. It never fails in making my day less boring.” He poured more into your cup, then propped his head on his arm. “One day I’ll take you to the agency so you could see for yourself.”

“Mhm, sure. Looking forward to it.” You sipped on your drink, feeling the tingling sensation in your throat. Glancing at the clock, you saw how late it was getting. Standing up and stretching, you thought it was time to make your leave before you let something slip out that you don’t mean to say, “Well alright. I stayed up past my bedtime, and my bed is calling my name. Try not to stay up too late tonight, okay?”

“Ah, still so caring, even when I don’t deserve it.” He swirled his glass around. “And leaving me so soon? The night is still so young, and there’s still so much I want to talk with you about.”

“Like what? What new ideas you’re gonna torment your coworker with?” You chuckled.

“No, about us.”

That caused you to freeze. You almost choked on your spit, and you’re grateful that you’re faced away from him. “Us?” You gulped. “What is- what is there to talk about?”

“A lot if you would give me the time. There’s so much to say about us.”

“I mean- not really. We’re just roommates, that’s all.”

The silence in the room grew that came after was damning.

“Just roommates?” You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and meet his eyes, and you could just feel his own burning into your skin. “Really? Nothing else?”

“I mean we’re friends too- yeah. Just- roommates that became friends. Yeah, roommates turned into friends turned into BFFs. That’s what I would call it. Just really close roommates/friends.” Keep your head together, don’t ramble, don’t ramble-

“I see.” And it was quiet after that, and you are trying your best not to squirm. Why did you have to make this so awkward. You turned around and gave him a quick wave, taking increasing steps backwards to your room. “Well, it’s really late so I’ll see in the morning Dazai-“

“Then I haven’t been very clear with you then.”

You did choke on your spit at that moment. “…huh? I don’t- I don’t understand.”

When he placed his glass down and stood up, you just stood there mouth agape. When he made his way to you, you were convinced that you were going to collapse at any second. You weren’t drunk, you’re still coherent enough to know what’s going on, to know how close he was getting- you should’ve made the move to push him away. But how could you when it felt so nice to link your hands together with his? So right?

The look he’s giving you- it’s so soft. His chestnut orbs have this affectionate glow to it, one that made you think you were dreaming, that this couldn’t be happening. You wanted to sink into his touch, you wanted to bolt back to your room, you didn’t want this moment to end- your emotions were all over the place.

“You don’t have to feign ignorance you know. The walls aren’t exactly thick, and I must say- if the last thing I heard was my name falling from your lips, I would die a happy man, especially knowing that my affections were returned.”

“Returned?” You said in a small voice.

Dazai just laughed again, and leaned in closer, nose brushing against yours. “Why of course. I would be a fool to deny them, and a bigger one to let you slip away.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and your heart soared at his words. But the little doubt in the back of your head had you second guessing.

But what if I mess this up? What if I lose you?

“You won’t. If anything, I’m the one who should be concerned about losing you.” His hand caressed your cheek. You flinched- you didn’t mean to say that out loud!

You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, but he titled your chin up to do so anyway. “I’m more than willing to take the chance. To have you in my arms before I leave this world is a chance I will always take if you allow me to.” When his eyes flickered between your own down to your lips, you closed the distance and hoped that you didn’t come to regret it.

And as time passed, you didn’t come to regret anything at all.

—   ( SUMMER RAIN )

˚ SUMMARY. two unlikely students are paired together for a documentary — but sometimes love finds us in peculiar ways ( aka an our beloved summer au. or also in other words high school unlikely match / rival au )

˚ FEATURING. ayato, albedo, childe, kaeya, thoma, xiao x gn! reader

˚ WARNINGS. mentions of “pretty” in albedo’s. mild swearing. usage of mx

˚ LINKS. masterlist

˚ NOTES. im posting this even though it technically isnt valentines day yet for me but by the time i post this tmrw it wont be valentines for most people so … enjoy !! all fluff :D

( interlude )

“a documentary,” you say, slowly.

“yes,” the cameraman says. “it’s only for a month. we’re pairing up the [pair] and we’ll basically filming you throughout the month. just pretend we aren’t there — it’s just a documentary about youth life, and you just go on about your day-to-day lives.”

you hesitate. this sounds like a mistake.

it’s one month, a voice in your head whispers. you can do one month, can’t you?

you clear your throat. “so who’s the other person going to be?”

ayato: most proper and least proper

kamisato ayato has a rep around inazuma high and it isn’t necessarily a bad one

the only thing you know about him is that his family practically runs the town

and apparently, an asshole

he has a rep for being closed off – you never see him hang out with anyone other than his sister and thoma. and you’re on good terms with thoma - but you’ve never talked to ayato

you’ve never had reason to; you’re never in the same class as him, and he always seemingly disappears every time you approach thoma

stuck up ass, is basically what you’ve always thought of him; he often had an air to him that said he’s too good for everyone

you think he looks down on you because you’re not as prestigious as he is - he’s proper, he comes from a rich family. he probably doesn’t even need the money from the documentary

still, at first, in the documentary, you try to be friends with him.

it goes horribly wrong.

on the first day of the documentary, you buy yourself a coffee at the local coffee shop. and you end up buying him one as well

however, when you try to give it to him, you end up tripping it and spilling it all over his business project that he’s stayed up all night to work on

there’s a beat of absolute silence as he slowly looks up to stare at you. you swear his eyes are burning holes into your head

and then he slowly looks back down, grabbing his water bottle, unscrewing the top lid, presumably to take a drink.

“sorry” you say, hurriedly. “i was trying to give you coffee, because i know you always stay up-”

he dumps the water over your head

a small shriek gets stuck in your throat, as you get soaked from head to toe

“i said sorry,” you say. your voice isn’t angry, still in shock. but the anger rises in your chest all the same

“oh.” he looks back down at his project. his voice is nothing short of sarcastic. “sorry.”

and then, at that moment, you decide that you hate this kid. with a burning passion

and of course he never gets into trouble because nobody would ever suspect ayato of doing something bad

the only person who sympathizes with you is thoma who just shrugs with a crooked grin and says “he’s sly. there’s a reason he’s never gotten caught.”

you’re forced to sit in the same classes, next to each other, for the sake of the documentary

but even through the filming, you’ve never been afraid to tell the camera how much you dislike ayato

“oh things i hate?” you ask, staring at the camera. “kamisato ayato.”

he doesn’t turn his head to you but you can see his scowl all the same. “funny, i was going to say the same.”

your arguments are equivalent to a child’s argument — often times, when arguments spark, they’re accidents like the coffee; it only gives him more fuel to dislike you, and you to dislike him

once, he decides to give you coffee with a “sorry :(“ sticky note attached to it

and like the fool you are, you decide to drink it

he watches from outside the door, not being able to resist a smirk

salt floods your taste buds, but instead of spitting it out, you make eye contact with him in the door and continue to down the entire thing

ayato also basically has this claim to a parking spot in the school - it’s not technically his, but everyone’s agreed it’s ayato’s spot

you stole it as soon as you could

it becomes a competition on who can get to school first to steal the spot. and that leads to both of you being to school two hours earlier

which means you actually spend a lot of time together ! and soon, your dislike for him, melts into something softer

you like spending time with him. in fact, you look forward to it

and you don’t miss how his smiles become fond - sometimes, when you’re on the verge of falling asleep in class, you see him smile softly as you rest your head on his shoulders

or sometimes, when you wake up, you just find his jacket over your shoulders

and there’s this one time when someone else makes an off hand comment about your clumsiness

the next day, the kid doesn’t show up to school. and when he shows up again, his face is bright red and his hair has been dyed green

when you turn to ayato, he just gives you his signature smirk with a shrug. “i don’t get caught.”

you two end up terrorizing your teachers. they never figure out who has been leaving alarm clocks around the building to disturb class, and ayato always turns to you with a fond smile

“how do i feel about y/n now?” he breaks into a soft smile. “i love them — i couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime. but don’t tell them i said that. i will never hear the end of it.”

albedo: smart & smart

you’ve never talked to albedo before this - but you’ve noticed him from afar

you’re both top of your class - both of you competing for number one spot

he’s never had many feelings towards you, other than the fact that you’re smart. he notices your name on the top scorers of exams, but knows nothing of you other than that

you never see albedo hang out with anyone - he has a few people he talks to, but none that he ever seems to be friends with

and it’s not for a lack of trying either - you ask kaeya about him once, wanting to get an idea of who albedo was

and kaeya just says “albedo — a strange one. he’s nice. but don’t interrupt him while he’s working. or ask him to hang out. he will always say no. it’s quite embarrassing.”

but when you talk to albedo, he’s actually quite nice! he’s never been anything but kind to you

you work together on a lab, and he’s always been patient with you. you’re able to bounce ideas off each other, and you’ve never worked with someone better

the rivalry doesn’t kick in until the second day. and then oh boy

but you also work at a daycare after school hours — and there, you take care of a child named klee

and you love klee ! klee’s the best !

sometimes, you help klee make these little water bombs as pranks to help her terrorize this “big bad brother” she complains about in daycare

and you share all your knowledge with her

and then, one day, when klee decides to set off her bombs on “big bad brother” albedo asks klee where she learned to make these new kind of bombs

klee — the absolute icon she is — isn’t able to keep a secret. “mx y/n helped me,” she says, sheepishly, swinging back and forth

albedo stops. “y/n l/n?”

klee shrugs. “i think. they says they’re your age. i like mx y/n more than you. they let me go fish blasting!”

so the next day, albedo, naturally comes to ask if you work in a daycare and you know klee

“yeah, i know klee.” you chuckle, thinking about her. “the other day, i helped her make mini water bombs — not a dangerous kind, don’t worry — to prank her brother. she’s amazing.”

he gives you a deadpan look. “klee’s my sister.”

oh. oh shit.

“and by the way,” he says, “i make better water bombs than you.”

and if to prove it, the next day, you find a container on your desk. and when you open it, water sprays in your face

and next to you, albedo is chuckling

oh it is so on.

you do most of your pranks through klee, bribing her to prank albedo. and albedo does the same

you both compete to be klee’s favorite — and whenever albedo comes pick klee up, you both have to tone down on the swearing

but you two are never mean to each other - it’s always been fun little pranks, with no mean intentions behind it, something you both know

“how do you feel about albedo?” the cameramen ask you, once, for the documentary.

“albedo?” the cameras don’t miss the small smile that spreads across your face. “he’s kind. a little closed off, but an absolute menace.”

but even though your words don’t say the whole truth, the cameras catch it

the cameras catch every time when you’re working late in the lab and he brings snacks for you

or every time either of you don’t understand something, you’re always patient, while explaining it to the other

or sometimes, during class, if you’ve pulled an all nighter, he’ll let you rest on his shoulder as he takes a little more notes as usual that way you’ll be caught up in class

and one day, when you’re taking of klee, she tells you

“my brother says he likes you.” she grins from ear to ear. “he says you’re very pretty.”

needless to say, you played a clip of your documentary at the wedding

“how do i feel about y/n?” albedo hums. “don’t tell them i said this, but i’m happy klee likes them. i want to make them apart of our family.”

more undercut !

Keep reading

— caramel frappucino.

✩ description. in which sakusa kiyoomi tries not to fall in love with the girl who spilled her favorite drink on him or;

sakusa being your breakfast buddy until you both realize your feelings and eat together for every meal

✩ pairing. sakusa kiyoomi x reader

✩ genre. college!au, enemies?? to lovers, friends to lovers, lovers to friends, crack, fluff, angst to the bones

✩ warnings. swearing; angst; basically my madness showing itself from time to time

✩ disclaimer. pictures used are not mine and are all credited to their owners. haikyuu characters are owned by haruichi furudate.

✩ status. ongoing 📝

TAGLIST CLOSED

✩ TABLE OF CONTENTS:

00 – introductions

y/n’s squad || sakusa’s squad

01 – let the clowns be

02 – pokemon macaroons

03 - don’t leave me on read

04 - something called love

05 - don’t miss me too much

06 - just us two

07 - am i doing it right?

08 - see you at 8

09 - mom, i think i’m in love

10 - code red

11 - she’s a psycho

12 - are you asking me on a date?

13 - that sounds desperate

14 - ship: sailing soon

15 - be a man

16 - please don’t be sakusa kiyoomi

17 - i’m just her friend

18 - let’s go out

19 - you were right, tooru

20 - the truth untold

21 - our love wasn’t meant to happen

22 - too early to break my heart

23 - damn you, tetsurou

24 - you like y/n

[...]

Hiii, I've just finished your long work abt In Ho and I gotta say you write wonderfully! I'd like to submit a request, if you have the time, about In Ho, I don't have an exact idea but I love the concept of him being cold hearted to everyone but you, being the love of his life he's able to show his true colors to you and you only. thank you in advance if you'll work on this idea

hihi!! thanks for the lovely request

i have this in-ho fic up that perfectly shows his true colors to the reader^^ if its not what your exactly looking for feel free to lmk! i still have more fics up my sleeve

---

I beg you to write something about Sae-Byeok or The Salesman. Your just so talented. I’m obssessed.

hii !! i have a salesman fic up and going :) borderline nsfw, but no actual intercourse. it's not my best work but I'll be posting more in the future !

tysm for the interest :) feel free to lmk if you want to get tagged!

---

Traitor

Reiner Braun x f!reader

Summary: All the times Reiner found a home in you that he will never be able to return to again.

Warnings: angst, fluff, aot spoilers if you haven’t watched season four pt. 1?? cursing, panic attacks, Reiner’s self-deprication and poor mental health, suicidal ideation - Reiner’s, implied reader death but is it true? Me thinks not. Also in good me fashion, I haven’t proofread this teehee.

A/N: Season four Reiner had me in a chokehold.

wc: 9k+

aot mlist

God I wish you thought this through before I went and fell in love with you.

He didn’t think devils were supposed to be beautiful. Not when, for the majority of his life at least, he had pictured them to be vile and cruel monsters, with grotesque faces that snarled down upon him and his people — cursing them to deal with the consequences of the evil-doers actions. Those, only an ocean away, were grimly cackling at what was left of the Eldian’s sheltered in Liberio; the demons were howling so loudly at how his people failed to run away, instead choosing to take responsibility, that the force of their laughter was what pushed the wind inland, towards Marley. That is what everyone said to him as a young boy, anyway, and he figured it must’ve been the truth.

However, within the few years he spent hiding in the devil's den, he found that those scary stories weren't exactly true. At least not in present terms. What he was taught — ever since the early days of his life where he questioned why he had to wear an armband and why he wasn’t allowed to leave the walls — about the devils on the island was a lie.

He didn’t understand how history and all those lessons could be so wrong. These devils, who he had lived beside and shared smiles with, weren’t the ones he had been forced to learn about. It was a bitter truth he was certain of.

And sure, maybe the way they acted was questionable. Perhaps their customs and ways of living were a little strange and primitive, but when he turned the pages of a dictionary to look upon what would fall under the definition of ‘savage’ and ‘evil’ never did he see their faces underneath the printed words.

Because according to all those lessons and stories that had been drilled into his mind since birth, devils were not supposed to be kind, or caring, or funny, or beautiful… but you were.

You were beautiful in how you made his heart sing, his cheeks glow, and his body float. You were beautiful in how you were strong, in how you were attentive, and in how you were determined. You were beautiful — inside and out. So no, Reiner did not think you to be a devil; how could you be when every fiber of your being resembled that of an angel instead?

And he missed you, his angel, with every long, bleak day that dragged by.

“Say, Reiner, when are we going to finally meet the girl in your sketchbook?” His mother asks from across the table, and Reiner feels as though he was young, naive and in training again — the wind completely knocked out of him as he lands flat on his ass.

His tongue feels heavy and dry, as if he had swallowed buckets of sand -- God knows he had done plenty of that for the past few months -- a sensation that was unpleasant and choked him of every word he had.

Although it doesn’t distract him from the fact that his family were all looking at him expectantly. Everyone always looked at him like that and he despised it; big brother Reiner, so reliable, dependable, and always knowing what to do.

Naturally, he wonders how they have seen his sketchbook, the one hidden in his room and under his pillow; the one he constantly drew in out of fear of forgetting what you looked like. Why did his family know of its existence and more importantly, why did they know that a poorly sketched angel danced within the pages?

It was unfair how they thought it was ok to breach his privacy… but, considering how fragile his mind has been lately, he can somewhat understand his mother’s spying.

“Since when did you have a girlfriend, Reiner?” Mushed broccoli and potatoes sputter across the table as Gabi yells out, “you work all the time, I thought you were too busy?”

Fuck, he is busy; run down and beyond worn out. There are days where his limbs refuse to move and all he craves is a few extra minutes of pretending to be somewhere, anywhere, else.

The war in the east only made his suffering worse, with each devastating blow his body received, and as much as he was glad he was out of the line of fire, he still didn’t feel safe and at home. Not a soul would ever hear him admit that though, he didn’t deserve a second of pity for what he had done. This was his repentance.

His uncle scolds Gabi and yet she does not ease on her stare. In fact, none of them do, their eyes eagerly awaiting a response, still so expectant of him -- he wishes he could still look at himself with that much hope.

Reiner clears his throat amidst the noise, “what?”

“Oh, honey, don’t play coy with us” — his mother smiles — “it’s perfectly ok for you to have a crush.”

His brows furrowed further, restraining against correcting her because it was so much more than a crush. A crush was childish, a miniscule moment of affection, a simple spark compared to the all-consuming fire that burned in his heart for you. It was so much more than a crush.

“No, I am just curious as to how you found it,” he instead chooses to say.

“Oh, I was cleaning whilst you were away and it fell” — a lie, he knew that was a lie — “all the pages have the same girl in. She is beautiful, Reiner, don’t be shy, bring her over for dinner sometime.”

“No, uh, that won’t be possible. She’s not… she’s not available.” Reiner says, his words a solemn slew that seemed to reach the hearts of those across the table. He hates that pitying look.

Whilst his mother is right, you are beautiful — no, more than that, shit, he didn’t think there were enough words to describe how good you were — the truth is you hate him, most probably. No, most definitely. And whilst he stays up late at night imagining you, here, smiling with him at those around the dinner table, a ring shining proudly on your fourth finger soon to claim you as another Braun, he knows it all will remain just a naive dream to indulge in when the intrusive thoughts become too much.

You would probably try to kill him if you were to ever meet again… though at this point, time seems to be leaning towards when. He never thought he would dread seeing you but anything would be better than watching your eyes burn with hatred for him. Although, maybe dying by your hand would be ok; Reiner thinks that would be a good way to go, taken out by an angel, his angel. He would let you. The real question, however, was if he deserved such a merciful end.

His mother grimaces with her typical sad and old eyes that begged for something to remain of her only son once he passed on, “Oh… she’s in a relationship then?”

God, he hopes not.

“Yes.”

And that was that. Pitiful looks are shot his way, maybe a few simple apologies too -- even the bitter “well, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, Reiner,” as if anyone else could compare to you, as if he even had time to think of looking for someone else with his scheduled death right around the corner.

He didn’t care to listen as they moved back to talking about Gabi and the whole warrior program, his fork instead prodding at the food still on his plate. They move on and he sits there for the rest of the night with his tongue craving to speak your name, of how alive you made him feel. His family wouldn’t find it so easy to talk down on the island devils -- like they were now -- if they knew you; if they knew your kindness or your intelligence.

In some ways, Reiner comes to envy them slightly, the way his family remains so unaware of how truly ethereal life can be. Remaining oblivious means that they can continue going about their normal, bleak day, but not Reiner who merely survives knowing that there is a taste of sunshine out there he can no longer bask in.

Reiner? Why would you do this? Reiner, tell me you’re lying?

Violently, he jolts, the chair screaming loudly against the wood floor and amber eyes are panicked when all he sees are walls surrounding him along with those he betrayed. He could feel the wind whipping at his cheeks and the dull throbbing of his arm. He could remember the harsh yellow light that shadowed the pained look on your face.

How could you do this to us, Reiner? I thought you loved me?

No, not again, please not now, he begs. He didn’t want to hear your voice, not like that, not now. Chest heaving, he does anything but meet his family’s concerned gaze, grabbing at the shirt material over his heart as he harshly pants out, “I’m going to bed, I’m tired. Thank you for dinner.”

They don’t call after him as his footsteps roar against the stairs, they never do because they know better after four years of the same shit; he wouldn’t tell the truth, a rushed ‘I’m fine’ half-hazardly thrown over his trembling shoulder as he flees to his room. His heart thunders at a worrying pace, choking him with fierce regret.

He can’t breathe. Then he stumbles. Weak feet thudding against the wood floor, looking for the soft comfort of blankets. It’s hard to focus but he knows that he can’t breathe. Not as he falls against his bed, hand frantically searching under his pillows.

Reiner, I hate you.

No. Please don’t say that. I’m so sorry.

His aching fingers find leather. Gripping the book tightly as he opens the pages. He still can’t breathe. And it hurts. Even as he looks at your face printed in graphite on the pages of his sketchbook, it hurts. Fuck, it hurts so much -- missing you. He misses you so much. So, so much. The burning of his eyes makes his vision fuzzy, but he knows the paper is getting wet. He hopes he hasn’t obscured any of the details of your face, because what if he forgot? God, what if he forgot? He can’t forget you. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

His mind is screaming, his heart, his eyes. It is all so loud. Clutching his ears he sobs into his pillow, wails like the infant he is until he can no longer see, think or feel.

Yet, even as his body surrenders to sleep, he cannot escape that final pitiful howl that reverberates through the four walls of his room.

Let me see her again, please.

But he only does in his dreams.

+

If there was any way for him to die, Reiner didn’t think sunstroke would be it.

The mid-summer sun bore down intensely as it watched the soldiers that lined the dirt ditch. With him were maybe fifty trainees in total, if he had to make a rough guess. A sea of naive faces; children who didn’t know the meaning of what it was to fight, to sacrifice. It was easy to laugh at the stupidity of those he stood with — the fact that they truly thought they could stand a chance in battle. At least here, Reiner can see that the rest of his fight should be an easy one.

With that being said, he still couldn’t help the way his knees trembled. Only a small movement, barely noticeable to the normal eye, but he still felt it was obvious to those who knew what to look for. This was the lion's den, and ultimately, these were the evil bastards he would have to fight. Kill. Surrounding him from every side were past, current, and future soldiers, all worked to the bone for the name of a battle they were set to lose.

Although, despite how pitiful he saw them to be, Reiner was anxious. What if they figured him out? He knew it was an outrageous thought, hardly likely to actually happen. But, as Commander Shadis stands in front of him with his ugly teeth bared and demanding a name, Reiner cannot help but fear that the lion's jaws were about to snap down on his neck.

Golden eyes glared at him, daggers nearly piercing through his resolve. If anyone here could blow his cover, then this wrinkly bastard would be it.

Luckily -- Reiner never thought he would say this -- he had encountered far worse than Shadis in his relatively short lifetime. Training for years within the deadly observation of the Marleyan elite, had taught him what it meant to be a warrior. He didn’t struggle to introduce himself with a steeled face, no stutter or nervous shift in his eyes to be found. A warrior wouldn’t do either of those, and Reiner refused to be the exception. This was nothing compared to what he had done, and what he would do.

He refused to lose now, there had already been enough of that.

The Commander says nothing more to him, and Reiner steadily exhales through his nose in relief. He had passed, and now all he had to do was blend in. Blend in and kill these evil Eldian devils, for the sake of his home, for the sake of his people.

Shadis struts out of his line of sight, instead moving on to the person standing to his left. Curiosity gets the better of him as Reiner finds himself sneaking a small glimpse towards the next cadet, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N L/N, sir.”

Reiner’s eyes widened like dinner plates as he spotted you. He almost had half a mind to grasp at his heart with the way it betrayed him and stuttered in his chest.

Because fuck, you're pretty. Like, super fucking pretty.

Almost instinctively Reiner’s cheeks flare up against his will, no matter how much he tries to remind himself that you are a dirty island devil. A desperate attempt is made to remove his gaze from you, before you caught him staring, and yet, no matter how hard he tried to steer his gaze forward -- to look for Bertholdt or Annie’s reassurance amongst the crowd -- Reiner just couldn’t take his eyes off of you, as if you had bewitched him. He wouldn’t put it past you, considering what you were.

Although, he had to admit, staring at you was like staring at the sun; he knew that he shouldn’t, that he would only be burned by it, yet the call was practically irresistible.

He watched your lips move, unaware of the dopey grin on his face as they formed another slew of candied words, “from Shiganshina, sir.”

His smile drops. Nevermind.

Even if he wanted to, Reiner had no chance with the pretty girl whose hometown he had willingly destroyed. He couldn’t really picture dinner with your family going well. Shit, imagine that, sitting down and saying ‘hi, yes, I’m Reiner Braun and I’m the armored titan that forced you to give up everything you had.’

Sure, that would go over with no issues at all.

It was probably a good thing, Reiner sighed to himself as Commander Shadis moved on to the next cadet to interrogate, the heavy weight of his footsteps drowned out by the orchestra of crickets in the fields above. They weren’t here to make friends, Reiner would have to kill you when the time called for it. So, the thought of future dinner plans with you and your parents -- if they were even still alive after the mess he and Bertholdt made -- really was stupidity at its finest. Nothing will ever develop that far during his time here, he refused to house the disgusting thought.

Still, he can’t help the small quirk of his lips as he hears you mutter a baffled, “is she seriously eating a potato?”

And he most certainly didn’t mean to mumble back, “at least potato girl is taking one for the team; number one spot on the shit list. Makes it easier on us.”

It got a smile from you though, and shit, it really was like looking at the sun. Reiner quickly decided in that one moment, he loved your smile, and he was going to continue making sure it stayed on your pretty face…

Yeah, it’s most definitely a good thing Reiner wanted nothing to do with you…. Right?

+

“I’ll never get this,” you complained, flopping down against the grass with a loud huff.

Sweat dripped off his forehead as he fought to catch his breath. The fabric of his now slightly sheer button up uncomfortably clung to his skin and he thinks perhaps he should’ve chosen different attire for this.

“Yes, you will. Come on, just a little longer, you are already so much better than before.” He smiles as he sits down beside you, electricity enticing shivers throughout his body as your shoulders lightly brush.

The sun was setting, painting your face in a golden glow. It was almost funny how much he envied how the sun could so openly and confidently kiss you. Though, he knows he shouldn’t be thinking that; he shouldn’t want to give a devil affection, not when he now trekked the long road to repentance. Feelings towards you were no more than your evil heart casting webs in his mind. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny it, you looked beautiful. You always looked beautiful, even whilst covered in sweat and grass stains.

“You’re just saying that, Reiner. You’re one of the best at hand to hand combat so you have to be nice to me.”

“I don’t have to say anything, you are improving. Don’t disregard your progress. Besides, you are better than the rest of us with the ODM.” He says and bumps your shoulder. Though, he didn’t expect the force to send you flat on your back, his heart dropping to his stomach as he watched you do so. Apologies lined the tip of his tongue yet they were cut short as you unexpectedly laughed.

Your laugh was something he also quickly grew to love; a beautiful melody, so deeply enchanting like the chiming of wind. He had quickly found that whenever you laughed, his eyes would soon find you and refuse to leave. Especially in moments like this: the grass was your halo as you lay there and he wondered -- even as you fell to the ground so ungraciously -- if the color green had ever been prettier. No, probably not, he thinks with a flustered grin.

It is then that Reiner, as much as he envied it, also thanked the sun for concealing the red of his cheeks. If it hadn’t dusted the fields you both lay in within a golden glow, he was sure the fire behind his face would have been enough to light the whole world, sun be damned.

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do if you were to catch onto the fact that his blood was hot and racing around his body at a million miles per hour because of you. The friendship you had developed over the past two years of training was… remarkable. If anything threatened or imposed on it then, as much as he hated to admit, Reiner knew he would be devastated.

Instead, you both sit there, still trying to catch your breath from vigorous training in the summer heat, and watch the sun set behind roaring hills. The wind starts to cool and the birds stop their chirping in favor of listening to the crickets sing out from within the long strands of grass. It was as if Reiner was living within a dream, blissful and sweet like a person his age should.

“I used to be scared of you.” You say, eyes closed and smile wide. Your voice was nonchalant and yet he still frowns. The mere image of you being scared -- of him nonetheless -- unsettled his stomach, as if he had eaten a bad slab of meat.

Lightly grasping at his gut, Reiner realizes there that he never wanted you to be scared, especially of him, “why?”

Sitting up, your body leans against him and he isn’t sure whether it is subconscious or not but he doesn’t care, “well, you know… you’re big and strong and you kinda had that face that screams” -- you lower your voice and dramatically puff up your chest -- “I’m big and strong don’t fuck with me or I’ll kill you.”

If only you knew how true that statement was.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You do sound like that” -- you giggle, lightly swatting at his arm -- “but anyway you aren’t like that at all. You are basically just a huge ball of…” You pause then, eyes coated in a warm, far off haze and a faint smile on your face. Your head comes to rest against his shoulder as you wistfully sigh, “you are one of the nicest people I have ever met, Reiner Braun, and I’m so glad I met you.”

And in that one moment Reiner felt as though he had swallowed the sun. With only a few simple words you had lifted the weight of the world off his heavily burdened shoulders and instead placed a smile so large on his face. It was a smile put there because of you.

Truly, you had no idea of the power you wielded over him, and yet even if you did, Reiner knew you would never exploit it -- not that he would care if you did, he would still be proudly wearing the same old giddy smile he was now.

Confidently, he held your hand and a flurry of flowers bloomed within his chest. Reiner delighted in the size difference of your soft hands in comparison to his -- it always made him feel like he was made to be by your side -- softly playing with your fingers as if they were made of glass. He doesn’t think twice as he places a chaste kiss to the center of your palm and embraces the heat that licks at his heart. Your body shudders at the gesture causing his own to explode with fireworks… he hopes he gets the chance to show you them in the future.

“I’m glad I met you too.” He breathes, transfixed as you peer at him from behind fluttering eyelashes. He meant it, every single word.

Magnetized, you both get closer and closer and he feels hotter and hotter as you do. Your lips were all he could focus on, the mere thought of their sweet taste simply too divine to ignore. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heart thundering like that of a race horse in his chest. Though it would all be worth it when he finally gets to kiss you after so many months of longin-

“Reiner!”

But he doesn’t get the chance to kiss you like he desperately wished to, not when Bertholdt calls for him across the field. He wants to ignore him, wants to finally crash into you like a wave to the shore, like he had dreamed of for all these months, but no matter how many extra minutes he spent by your side nor how many times he glanced at your pretty lips, Bertholdt kept on calling his name like a broken record to which you break apart. Once again he was cold.

You huffed as you stood, offering him your hand, “I guess that’s our training done. We both know he won’t shut up if you don’t go, Reiner.”

He lets you pull him up, touch slightly lingering on your hand before finally drifting apart after his name is called once again. Reiner groans, “he has his timing and I’m going to strangle him.” A silent message that he doesn’t regret what was about to happen, he doesn’t want you to think of it as a mistake on his part.

Your laugh blesses his ears once more as Bertholdt's figure gets closer and closer. You hug him again, quick and warm, and his heart stutters at the unexpected affection. He hopes he adapts to it sooner rather than later.

“Then let me know when you are going to do it so we can both ring his neck and put my training to use,” you wink before you leave -- your silent, coded response to let him know that you didn’t regret it either -- before joining Mikasa, Armin and Eren with a loud cackle as you retreat.

Although he cannot reflect on your words nor the lingering tingle he feels shooting up his spine from your touch for long, not when Reiner is met with stern disappointment as Bertholdt frowns, “you are getting too attached, Reiner. You have to stop whatever you have with her.”

He pushes past his friend, his blood boiling,“I’m not getting attached, I’m just blending in.”

Bertholdt’s hand grips his shoulder, spinning Reiner to meet his eyes, and with hushed fury Bertholdt says, “Blending in doesn’t involve falling in love with someone, especially the enemy. Get it together Reiner, you know what the goal is.”

The weight is back on his shoulders and the world crushes his spirit once again. Bertholdt is right, Reiner shouldn’t be fond of you like he is. If this was left unchecked, to grow like the weed it was, then Reiner would surely fall in love, if he wasn’t already and that was dangerous…

But as you both walk away, back to back, he can’t help the way his heart yearns for your comfort.

He sighs, defeated, “yes, you are right. I’m sorry, Bertholdt.”

+

“When we graduate, what branch are you going to go to?” You whisper as you fiddle with his hands, tracing the shape of them lightly with your pointer finger.

You were both sitting on a roof, the night sky alive with millions of stars -- you like to think of them as fireflies, it made the nighttime seem not so lonely. There was a chilly breeze, one that sent goosebumps flaring up across your skin. He must have noticed because no more than a second later, he gently drew you into his arms.

It was hard not to fluster as you sat there against his chest. The sonorous beat of his heart made it hard to stay awake as your breath started to even out and eyes fluttered shut.

“Hmm, I always said the military police would be it for me but” -- you look up at him to see him already dazedly smiling down at you -- “I think I may reconsider depending on a few things.”

Smiling into the material of his shirt, you shake your head a little at the implication of his words, “well, if I told you I was going to join the Scouts, what effect would that have?”

It was well known amongst the 104th that after Shiganshina, you, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were going to the Survey Corps. There was no way you could forget the screaming and the blood that rained down upon the streets that you grew up in; no way you could erase the image of your family crushed by debris and eaten alive. Although, it was mainly due to Eren that you all decided to join, after all, the small group of you were all you had left.  There was no way you couldn’t follow, even if it meant your own demise would be met out there, though you tried not to think of that.

But to imagine that Reiner would give up his safety to join you out there… well, it made you feel like you mattered; cozy and complete.

Reiner chuckles, the sound rumbling deep within his chest, “I would tell you that I always thought I looked good in green.”

Your laugh echoes throughout the air as you lightly shove him, although he is quick to grab your arms and pull you back towards his chest. The two of you fall silent then, his hands gently gliding up and down your back as he blissfully sighs.

“You’re stuck with me,” he finally says, placing a familiar kiss to the crown of your head, “I don’t think I can leave your side, even if I wanted to.”

“Reiner,” you breathe, a gentle smile taking over your face, “I guess it’s a good thing for you that I never want you to leave me then.”

The arms around you squeeze a little tighter and you can hear the smile in his voice as he agrees, “yeah, that’s a good thing indeed.”

+

Eren had truly caught Reiner off guard. The way he harshly grabbed him and pulled him into a shadowed corner between two cabins with a glare that had never once been directed towards anyone other than Jean.

“You like y/n, right?” Is what he says, and the question causes Reiner to choke on his spit. He had only wanted to go to sleep, the day was tiring and the food had only pushed him further towards exhaustion. However, he still made sure you walked back to your cabin safely, even if there was no need for him too — you both knew he did it just so he could spend an extra few minutes with you. Reiner only wanted to sleep, but it seemed that Eren wanted to pick a fight instead.

Coughing, he hits his chest a few times before croaking, “uh, what?”

Eren rolls his eyes before scoffing, “I’m not stupid, Reiner. You like her, it is written clear as day over your stupid face.”

Reiner had never considered his feelings for you to be embarrassing, no, they were quite beautiful actually; equated to a field of flowers or a roaring sunset. Although, being forcefully confronted about his liking towards you was another matter, right now it felt as though he had been punched in the gut.

Sighing, he sees no other choice but to give in to Eren’s probing stare, bashfully whispering, “I think I more than like her at this point, Eren.”

It’s quiet between the two for a while, awkward and tense. The silence causes Reiner to shift uncomfortably on his feet, looking anywhere but the green eyes of the boy before him. No one would have expected a sight like this: Reiner cowering at the sight of a maniac like Eren Jaeger, it was almost funny.

However, that soon ends when Eren sighs, placing a hand on Reiner’s shoulder and awkwardly mumbling, “if you hurt her, I’ll kill you Reiner.” That was all the younger boy — one of the only people important enough to be considered family by you — said before quickly turning on his feet and walking back towards their shared quarters.

And as Reiner watched Eren kick a few rocks as he left, he smiled because he knew that was as close to a blessing he was ever going to get. Somehow, that little threat, well, it meant the world to him.

For a moment he forgot about who he truly was, because in that second he was excited for what a future by your side entailed. It was a shame Reiner was who he was, because fuck did that future look utterly divine.

+

They had done it, Bertholdt and him.

They had easily broken through another wall and let carnage descend upon Trost. Many were already dead and more about to join the fallen. All that was left after Rose was Sina, and once that final barrier was destroyed the mission would be complete. They could go home. After so long in this hellhole they could finally leave and be heroes. He should be joyous, excited, thrilled. Yet, Reiner couldn’t understand why instead his mind flooded with panic; refusing to leave your side for even a second since he had joined you all.

You were a spectacle, that was to be sure. Graceful but deadly as you danced through the air and sliced every titan unfortunate enough to stumble into your path.

If Marley had a warrior like you, then fuck, this mission would have been so much easier. Marcel would probably still be here and enemy nations would be nothing but rubble beneath your feet. Marley didn’t have you though… and you were an enemy. Reiner tried his best to remember that.

“There are too many, shit,” you seethe, a murderous glint lining your eyes, “I don’t have much gas left, fuck, fucking damnit it to fucking hell.”

Unfortunately, you were correct. All of you -- him, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Bertholdt, Armin, Marco and a few others -- were practically running on fumes by this point, with no shelter and far too many meat headed bastards littering the street, picking people off one-by-one. HQ was plagued with titans and supplies were looking to be unoptional for the foreseeable future. They had already lost a large number of friends during this battle -- including Eren, which he knew hit you hard despite how calm you tried to remain -- and it was only a matter of time before someone else joined the rest of the corpses lining the titan’s bellies.

So, as much as Reiner refused to believe it, with the way things were looking, you were going to die. He couldn’t risk transforming to save anyone, even you. Not that he should, because the mission will always come first. He just hoped he didn’t have to watch as your blood stained the streets below, your body torn apart and crunching under the force of a titan’s jaw.

You're pacing back and forth now, hands pulling at the skin of your face as the shock begins to set in. Shivering hands are easy to spot, and it is even easier to conclude that the action likely isn’t caused by the rain. Marco tries his best to comfort you from his spot by Reiner’s side, but you are completely unresponsive to him; muttering wildly under your breath as you continue shakily stumbling across the rooftop. This is grief, Reiner recognizes, grief and acceptance of your death.

“Hey,” he grabs your arms as he watches you tear up, “we’ll get out of this ok? We aren’t dying today. I’ll make sure of it.”

No one else around him says anything. He is, of course, aware of Bertholdt and Annie’s burning stare focused on the back of his head but he tries not to fixate on it. Instead he chooses to concentrate on the smallest movements and changes in your face, awaiting the moment you finally break.

“He’s gone, Reiner,” your voice is wobbly, so uncharacteristically gloomy, and it pulls hard at his heart, “my best friend is- he’s dead, just like..” Just like your family is what you’re going to say but choke before you could even begin to form a single syllable. Armin had broken the news to you through a slew of tears -- you hadn’t reacted then, too caught up in the current situation. He was eaten by a damn titan with only an arm left of him, shit, what an awful way to go. Eren didn’t deserve that.

Reiner’s thumbs quickly wipe away the tears that fall, and he quickly pulls you into a tight embrace. This wasn’t the place or time, he knew that comfort was the last thing he should be offering right now but… but you needed it. Reiner wasn’t completely fucking heartless.

Soft hushes escape his lips as he lightly rocks you back and forth, “I know, and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

This was his fault, your pain, your anguish. He did this, he was guilty.

Sniffling, you slowly pull back from where he held you to his chest. You smile at him, a tragic thing that doesn’t reach your eyes and he has half a mind to think that he may have preferred it when you cried, at least then he didn’t have to see you force being ok for him. You shouldn’t have to comfort him in a moment like this. You should let yourself grieve and not force a mask of solace to ease the harsh frown on his face, because you always knew how much he liked your smile. God, you were such an angel.

Lightly patting his chest, your voice is completely exhausted as you utter, “don’t apologize, Reiner, this isn’t your fault.”

But it is, it is all his fault, he thinks as he brings you into another hug. Wincing against the top of your head, he silently begs for your forgiveness because he hurt you, he hurt your family, he hurt your friends, and he is so, so fucking sorry.

Reiner has ruined your life and yet here you stand, nuzzling into him as if he were deserving of such tender affection. You had no clue of the crimes he had committed… Just like Reiner doesn’t know if the wetness on his cheeks is from the rain or his building regret.

+

“Have you seen, y/n?” Reiner asks as he finishes bandaging Armin’s head.

His body ached slightly, nothing he wasn’t prepared for or wouldn’t heal from, and thus something that became a second thought in comparison to the anxieties that were slithering in his head. He was thankful that the small, little group had found shelter beneath the trees. The heat was messing with his brain, it made him see all kinds of things and think all kinds of thoughts. The sweat practically dripped from his forehead like a leaky tap, he felt disgusting, and he really hoped you had a spare handkerchief on you for him to use. He smiled slightly at the thought, you were always prepared when it came to stuff like that.

Jean stops whistling as both he and Armin shoot anxious glances at each other, and Reiner’s smile falls. Their mutual hesitation does nothing to settle the sinking of his gut, nor does it quell the boiling of his blood. Although Reiner was a patient guy -- he had to be in order to keep a cool head, to lead like he had promised his fellow soldiers -- the longer their shared silence continued the shorter his fuse got. Images of you being torn apart, eaten, scared, trampled, screaming for someone, for him, to save you plagued his mind.

Broken and bloodied, the idea of you in that state became nothing but clearer in his mind the longer they allowed the silence to tick by. Nausea overwhelmed him as he could practically smell the iron-y scent and taste the bitter copper tang. Shit, what if you got mixed up in this mess? What if you encountered the female titan?

Annie… she wouldn’t kill you, right? There was no way, you were both friends, surely she would take mercy upon you…

He prayed to whatever God there was that she was sympathetic towards you, towards him.

“Well? Have you seen her?” He snaps, far harsher than he should but he cannot bring himself to utter an apology, not if he didn’t know whether you were ok or not.

The land was open for miles, only the grass and bordering trees could be observed from the acres of fields. Yet, Reiners eyes didn’t once stop inspecting the area around him, silent pleas screaming to see you riding towards him and diving within the safety of his arms. Only, there was nothing there. You weren’t there.

Armin stutters slightly before finally and timidly uttering, “no, Reiner. We haven’t, but-”

What did that mean? What did that mean? What did it mean?

“Damnit,” he seethes and desperately tries to withhold the tears that were prodding at his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from hunching over as if struck, hands on his knees as the acidic taste of bile washed his tongue.

“She was stationed on the right wing…” He chokes and the air is tense as he watches both his comrades tense.

“Maybe she is fine, Reiner. She is tough, you know that from training and… Trost. Besides, we need to figure out how we are getting out of here first.” Jean speaks between piercing whistles.

The noise was infuriating. A constant high-pitch ringing that battered his brain with excess noise that overwhelmed his every sense. Reiner truly wanted to scream at Jean that his stupid horse wasn’t coming back, to cut that shit out incase more titans come. Fuck, he wanted to claw at everything and anything around him; rip his ears off, punch a tree, something to get rid of all this stress.You were out there somewhere, possibly fighting for your life, and he was standing here doing fuck-all.

Of course, whilst the what ifs would continue to flood his mind in a constant taunting loop, he knew his anger towards Jean was stupid and heavily irrational; not an act a soldier should be engaging with. After all, emotions do not save lives when it comes to missions, in fact they make them deadlier. So, as much as Reiner is appalled by the suggestion because there was no way he could prioritize his escape when you could be out there in need of help, he supposes he can’t help you if he is dead.

Sighing, Reiner stands straight before finally stating what he knew the three had been thinking since their encounter with the female titan, “no, you’re right Jean. Anyway we look at it, one of us has got to stay here. We need to figure out who.”

He couldn’t afford to stay behind. Whilst he could ultimately survive out here, there was no way he would be able to look for yo- to finish his mission if he were assumed dead. Although, he didn’t exactly feel comfortable leaving Jean or Armin behind either -- especially Armin, you would be devastated if anything were to happen to the blond.

However, that doesn’t make anything easier. Someone has to stay behind, and Reiner doesn’t want to play a part in choosing who.

“Wait a second” -- Armin protests before coming to a wobbly stand -- “shouldn’t we fire a signal? If everyone kept going straight then the final row should be in close proximity by now,” he reasons.

It was a valid option, something that wouldn’t hurt to try. After all, what could really be worse than this?

The three look between themselves before Jean retrieves a canister from his satchel with a sigh. Loading the emergency flare into the gun, Jean fires it into the air, and the three watch it paint the sky. Reiner watches it travel, and as much as he knows safety is unlikely, he really hopes someone sees the purple smoke. A naive part of him hopes you see it too.

“There we go, but I highly doubt someone is going to see that and think someone is in need of a horse,” Jean laments, walking off to once again whistle for his missing horse.

“We stay here three minutes tops, Armin. After that, we are making the decision.” Reiners' words hang heavy in the air.

“Wait, someone is coming.” Jean interrupts.

Jean wasn’t wrong, someone was coming, emerging from the fields of red and green. The world had taken pity upon the three wounded soldiers and sent them, him, a guardian angel… because there you were, riding full speed towards them.

Reiner doesn’t realize he is running until he is right before you, a blinding grin on his face. “Are you ok?” He asks, grabbing your hand.

There were no visible wounds to you, at least not ones he could spot as he frantically inspected you for the nth time within the short seconds you had arrived. Your eyes were slightly watery and your brows furrowed far more than he would like them to be, but you seemed fine. He was so fucking glad you were fine.

In that moment he wanted, needed, to kiss you, though really he had wanted to do that for a long time, knowing you were safe and ok convinced him to finally admit his fond feelings.

“I should be asking you that.” You exclaim, squeezing his hand before bringing it to rest on his cheek, “are you all ok?”

Reiner nuzzles into your palm, a subconscious movement, and places a sweet kiss to the center of your palm, a habit he had picked up within your presence.

The boys behind him are thanking you, he can hear the desperate sounds of relief floating through the air. No one would be left behind because you had seen their call for help and you had brought them horses, Jean’s as well. You really were an angel.

He hears you cry out from above as you fling yourself down from your horse, “oh my God, Armin, your head!”

Within seconds Armin’s face is cupped gently within your hands, a nasty, green feeling settling in Reiners gut. Your fingers lightly trace the bandage covering his forehead, relieved to find that the bleeding had stopped a while ago and no longer seeped through the white material. Although, it was a battle for Reiner to contain the urge to pull you away, to hug you again and ward Armin off with a glare; ugly possessiveness rearing its head at the sight of the two of you. He clicks his tongue in frustration, more than aware that feeling this way wasn’t fair -- you both are just friends, he reminds himself, nothing more.

But as you turn back round to face him, striding over and gripping him tight within your embrace, he can’t help but indulge in the fact that you never hugged anyone like this, nor did you ever place a gentle kiss to their cheek like you are doing right now.

Since when did anyone under the terms ‘just friends’ act like this?

You pull back, only a little bit, but when you whisper the sacred words, “you don’t know how devastated I would’ve been if anything had happened to you,” he feels as though he is complete.

Reiner only feels it right to respond with a light kiss to the crown of your head, and against the warm skin he smiles, “oh, I’m pretty sure I know.”

+

“Reiner?” He hears your shaky voice mumble, the weak sound prompting him to quickly turn around. Within the shadows of the cold Survey Corps hallways, he can still make out the tear stains on your cheeks.

He races towards you, only a few short steps, but a distance traveled as fast as he humanly could. Grasping your face gently within the comforting, protective hold of his calloused hands, his thumb traces over the watery paths, his own eyes burgeoning with tears as he rasps, “hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Hazel eyes are quick to analyze every minute detail of your body, looking for scrapes, or blood, or bruising, or-

He jumps when you cup his face, similar to how he does you -- gentle and loving. Beneath your hands he can feel his cheeks burn, as if your skin were a match and he was gasoline. You pull his head down towards you, a gentle tug that is futile to resist, and as your foreheads rest against each other you confidently say, “Reiner, I love you.”

For a moment, he truly believes he misheard you. In his broken, twisted mind, there was no way you could love him back. You deserved the world and all its treasures, so why would you ever decide to settle for a man like him instead? He was broken, evil, and a murderer. Selfishly, he couldn’t find it in himself to tell you that, selfishly, because he had wanted for so long to hear those sweet words tumble from your mouth.

At his silence, he watches your face wince, panicking as if you truly believed he hadn’t been obsessed with you since day one, “I just had to tell you, after the last expedition and hearing you almost died, I- I just-”

“Say- say that again,” he smiles, eyes watering.

You smile back, “I love you, Reiner.”

“Again.”

“I love you, Reiner.”

He whispers, “again.”

“Reiner,” you groan, throwing your head back with a roll of your eyes.

Although, he doesn’t give you much time to complain. Instead he laughs brightly, louder than he had in years, picking you up and holding you close as he spins you around, “I love you too. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

The words easily fall from his lips, bursting like water through a broken dam. He would say them over and over again, millions upon millions of times if that is what you needed, wanted. Reiner loves you, he loves you, and is certain that for the rest of his life -- a life not long enough -- he will continue to love only you. How could he not?

You were perfect in every definition of the word, a perfect blend of kindness, determination, strength, and empathy, all drizzled with the sweetest layer of honey. Loving you was easy, Reiner found. He doesn’t believe he could ever regret such a beautiful thing.

Then he catches it, through the dizzying spins he catches a glimpse of your smile -- a smile he still adores to this day. It begs him to end the years worth of pining, longing for your lips on his. Your smile, a smile he has loved since he first lay his hazel eyes upon it, hardly needed to do much convincing.

After years of waiting, as he places your giggling self back to the ground, he finally gets to kiss you like he wanted that late afternoon in the field. He kissed you to convey all those millions of words he could not say; kissed you to show how long he had desired to love you; he kissed you like it would be your last…

Funny really, considering that when a scout came to collect Reiner, and only Reiner, a minute later to venture off somewhere down South, that single moment truly would be your last shred of shared happiness until you both rejoined on that wall after the events of Utgard Castle. Before Reiner finally and fully broke both of your hearts.

If he had known, he wouldn’t have left.

+

“So, you’re telling me… Reiner and Bertholdt are…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, your throat burning under the acidic taste of bile.

You couldn’t believe it, how could you? Reiner? A traitor? No, Armin had to have this whole thing wrong. Reiner had been nothing but kind, and sweet, and loving. A traitor wouldn’t care as much as Reiner did, a traitor would never show you love like the one you had known with him. If everyone could maybe just listen, maybe they would understand how good Reiner was.

Because he bandaged your scrapes and kissed them better. He protected you from titans when Trost fell. He helped you improve with self-defense when it seemed like a hopeless task. He told you stories when you couldn’t sleep, even if he was so tired all he wanted to do was pass out. Those weren’t the actions of a bad person. So maybe, if they just listened to you, they would see that Reiner Braun could never, ever be a traitor… right?

Collapsing to your knees, tears singe your eyes red. It seemed Eren was also having a hard time with this. Denial pouring out of his mouth faster than the tears escaped your eyes. The more Armin spoke, the more he explained everything, as much as she tried to drown everything out, the more it made sense… and you hated yourself for it.

If Reiner was the traitor… the armoured titan like they believed then that meant… that mean he murdered your family… Eren’s family… everyone’s family.

Oh God. He… he killed them.

Bringing a hand to your mouth with a gasp, you gag at the thought that you had fallen in love with the man who ruined your life. All the times you wept in his arms, sobbing about what you saw that day… he knew the entire time.

He knew what he did to you, and yet… oh God.

A hoarse voice echoes throughout the room, it belongs to you, as you numbly say, “if Reiner is a traitor” — you gasp, sniffling as the sobs threaten to break free — “I will kill him.”

It was a promise. You would, even if the thought of his blood staining your hands shattered what was left of your heart. If Reiner was the traitor, you would kill him… you had to… you hoped you had the strength to at least.

Although something deep inside you whispered that you didn’t.

+

It was dark, damp and putrid within the basement walls, thick layers of mold crusting over the beige stone. Water dripped from the ceiling with a slow yet incessant pace, similar to that of a ticking clock -- the continuous sound was a taunting reminder that time was quickly running towards its end. So much was happening, so much to be processed. He truly felt as though he had finally gone insane. After all, it was only a matter of time until he did; the breakdowns, nights of plagued dreams, the thoughts of craving death. This was bound to happen, yet he was terrified at how real it all was. Could it be that this was actually happening? He never thought he would hope so, but that seemed far better than the other option, that this was all real.

Falco remained shaking against the wall, silently gasping in shock. Reiner wished he could reassure the boy, tell him that this wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what sending those letters meant, he didn’t know that the supposed injured man he was trying to help was the enemy from overseas. Reiner so desperately wanted to tell Falco everything he needed to hear, but the words were stuck behind the lump in his throat. He burned with an unholy fire, tears singing his skin as he begged Eren for forgiveness that he knew he didn’t deserve. His knees were beginning to hurt as they dug into the stone ground, the material of his pants growing wet the longer he bowed.

Reiner babbled like the infant he is, words an incoherent slew of snot and tears. He was just a kid too, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Eren had to understand that he really didn’t want to hurt him, hurt his friends, hurt you.

How could you do this to me, Reiner? I loved you.

God, he was sorry. So, so sorry. He didn’t want any of this to happen, not anymore. You had to understand that, right? You had to know he never wanted to hurt you, that he didn’t think of you as a devil like everyone else here did. Not when he knew you to be better than anyone who walked this pitiful world.

“You want to know how she is, right?” Eren’s voice is a monotone drawl, all hints of the once familiar fight that lit his bright eyes was gone. This person, this man, sat before Reiner was a stranger; the vacant shell of an old friend turned enemy. Maybe this was one of the consequences of his betrayal, and Reiner wonders how many of the others are like this too. He ignores the voice murmuring in the back of his head that he had made you into one of these numb soldiers, that his betrayal shattered you for good.

Even so, Eren is not wrong. Reiner craved to know every detail about you, for the past four years all he wanted was you. The medals, the praise, the recognition, to hell with all of it -- you and your beautiful smile was all he needed. It was the air which he was desperate to breathe.

Nodding his head, fast and vigorous, he brings his palms together and prays to hear your name. He wants Eren to describe everything: how you had changed and how you had stayed the same. Was your favorite color still that of the blue sky? Did you still always drink a cup of tea before walking around the fragrant fields? Were your eyes still vibrant and full of stars? Did you smile whenever you thought of him? Reiner knows he still smiled when he thought of you.

“Reiner,” Eren says, looking down upon his trembling form. There was a weak pause, full of tension that detained his airways in a vice grip. Reiner sits up, quivering beneath Eren’s detached gaze.

“She’s dead.”

He was shot. Reiner didn’t see a gun but Eren must’ve had one. There was no other way to describe how his flesh felt as though it had ripped in two, the way his lungs were suffocated and choked, the way his body went into a painful shock. Finally breaking down, Reiner screams, at least he thinks he does with how his throat ignites in furious ache; He wouldn’t know of the dreaded noise he unleashed within the cold walls -- like a wounded animal cornered and about to die -- because Reiner cannot hear anything beyond the shattering of his chest.

Refusal was all he had, complete and utter denial for the vile words that slithered from Eren’s lips. He shakes his head back and forth, a fast paced movement that causes his brain to rattle painfully within his skull. You couldn’t be dead. Eren was lying. Reiner had heard you, with the group, with Jean and Hange as they detained him. He had heard you, seen you, protected you. You couldn’t be gone, not you, anyone else but you. No, this had to be another nightmare. A lie he had no choice but to suffer through for how he had sinned.

“You’re lying, Eren” -- he gasps, like he had been submerged under water for far too long and now he finally breached the surface for precious air -- “Why would you say that? She’s not dead. She can’t be. Please, Eren, tell me you’re lying.”

The green-eyed boy glared down at Reiner’s trembling form, lips slightly curled into a vicious snarl. It was the first hint of emotion that had been seen on Eren since the beginning of this interaction, and Reiner shivers at the intensity, “you have no right to cry after what you did, Reiner. You have no right to ask of her, not after what you did.”

Pitiful whimpers echo throughout the walls, “I love her, Eren. I swear, I love her.” The defeated words repeat over and over again like a broken record, in hopes that eventually he would get Eren to understand that his feelings for you had never been a lie.

His skin prickles as Falco’s concerned, or perhaps curious, gaze falls on what’s left of Reiner. He knows what questions the young boy wants to ask, he knows that Falco wants to know who you are. How was Reiner supposed to say that this was your best friend, here to bring the dreadful news that you, his soulmate, was dead? Falco wouldn’t be able to understand how Reiner fell in love with a ‘devil’ nor would he ever know just how easy you made falling to be.

“I suppose that is one of the many ways we are alike,” Eren stands before grasping Reiners hand with an iron clad hold. It was just enough to gain the fleeting remnants of Reiners attention as Eren continues, “we both have lost people we love… to you.”

To… me? Had he heard Eren right? Did that mean he had… Did he kill you?

You’re killing me Reiner, how could you do this?

“How?” Reiner croaks, he couldn’t understand it, he couldn’t understand what Eren was saying. Reiner needed to know, he desperately needed to know.

But Eren ignores him, doesn’t offer any closure or solace, only the familiar words of a monster, “I told you what would happen if you hurt her didn’t I?” — Reiner gasps at the haunting, far off voice of his resurfacing memories ‘if you hurt her, Reiner, I’ll kill you — “and just so you know, I will keep moving forward” — Eren’s grip on Reiner’s hand tightens, a painful constrictor refusing to let its prey flee. Amber eyes widen as Eren’s begins to glow, and within the split second of time he has, Reiner tries to rush towards Falco before it is too late — “until I exterminate my enemy.”

You killed everyone I loved. You’re a murderer, a traitor. I hate you, Reiner. I hate you.

Reiner once upon a time thought the island devils across the sea were the most vile and cruel of creatures to walk this earth, but when a bright light followed and as he felt the burning heat scorch his skin, Reiner understood that the cruelest of monsters had been him all along.

And as he falls with the ghost of your name on his lips, Reiner truly wished he was dead too.

Maybe then he could finally feel safe and at home once more.

Hi Xae, have a good new year, I wanted to ask you if you could write about Kang Dae-ho (player 388) from Squid Game 2, where the reader joins Gihun's team and even though it's only been a few hours, she and Dae-ho already have chemistry and Dae-ho tells Gihun's friend how pretty the reader is, making him a little angry and calling him a fool in love, ty ❤!

-🦊

Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 - Fool in love

Synopsis: You and Dae-ho get along within the first second you meet - maybe it's meant to be?

A/N: Finally dropping this !! Dae-ho is so cutie and I love him sm

Warning: none !!

A game where death is lurking right around the corner is enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine. Especially yours. You only came here because you needed the money but you weren't confident that you'd be willing to die for it. The idea that you might die soon made you utterly afraid. You had a family that you'd most definitely like to go home to but most of the other players seemed far too keen to stay in this hell and it meant you were stuck there with them too.

On a more fortunate note, there seemed to be a previous winner amidst the hundreds of other players and you'd be damned if you didn't rely on someone who knew what he was doing. If he really was a winner, then he could predict the games. Maybe then you'd actually have a chance of getting out alive and with a lot of money.

“Hi. You're the guy from earlier who said that he played this before, right?” You ask as you stand in front of player 456. You thought maybe being his ally would make you feel better but, with the way he looked up at you, he was actually kind of scary. It's like his face had been frozen into a hard glare. Though, to be fair, he was apparently the sole survivor of the game he played so he must have suffered plenty of losses. You suppose you'd look that unhappy too if you lost people you cared about.

He gives you a nod as the other people sitting around look at you too. They looked a lot less terrifying than him which made you feel a bit better. “I was wondering if maybe I could stick with you guys? I don't really want to be on my own and, since you've played these games before, you can help, right?” you ask with a hopeful look. You were really hoping that they'd be welcoming to you. 

“Mm? Who are you?” Someone suddenly speaks and, when you look towards the voice, you see a boy with food stuffed in his mouth peeking out from around the corner. His eyes briefly widen when he sees you properly before he quickly puts his food down and jumps off the bed. “Of course, you can stick with us,” he says rather eagerly as the three men behind him give him a strange look.

“Ah, really? Thank you,” you say with a nervous grin as he practically pushes you to sit down. You honestly didn't expect to be welcomed with such open arms. Actually, maybe that wasn't really a team decision but you didn't complain because now you had a team who could protect you and that you could hopefully trust. 

“So, who are you?” He asks as he grabs his food from the bed before he sits down beside you with his legs crossed. He looked genuinely interested to know everything about you and it made your heartbeat a little faster. He was cute. That was for sure. So to have his eyes on you was certainly making you slightly nervous. You cleared your throat before introducing yourself as you tried to maintain eye contact with him.

He repeats your name as if testing out how it sounds when said from his own mouth. After a slight pause, he gives a slight nod of approval before speaking up again. “I'm Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho,” he says with a smile. In all honesty, he had never seen someone as pretty as you. You really captivated his attention. He felt like he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Kang Dae-ho,” you repeat quietly as you engrave the name into your mind. “That's a nice name,” you say with a small smile and he smiles too. “It's supposed to mean big tiger. Kang means big and Dae-ho means tiger,” he explains before taking a bite of his food. 

“Big tiger? You don't look very big,” you say with a small smile, teasing him slightly. He swallowed down his food before responding to your comment. “Wha-? I'm big! I was a marine,” he says with a proud smirk. You look at him and down and raise an eyebrow to send a clear message that you didn't believe him one bit.

“No, I'm serious!” He says before pulling his sleeve up to reveal his tattoo. “See?” He says as he makes sure you get a good look at it. “C'mon, anyone could get that tattooed on their arm,” you say and he immediately shakes his head in denial. 

“You still don't believe me? Maybe I need to show you my strength then,” he says with a small smile before throwing some gentle punches at you. You laugh at his actions as you two play fight - something that captures the attention of the other three that were sitting around. They look at you two before exchanging a glance between each other then looking away and trying to act as if you and Dae-ho aren't clearly forming some sort of chemistry right now.

The next few hours you had spent exclusively with Dae-ho talking about every little thing. You opened up to him about why you were in these games and what you had gone through and he listened so intently, it made your heart race. You swear your brain would short circuit when he looked at you with that look. When his head was tilted and his eyes said all the words he wanted to say with his mouth.

You couldn't believe you were crushing on a guy you just met. Sure, he was a good listener, funny, strong, nice, and everything else that makes someone perfect but you couldn't just fall in love with him. Hell, you're both in a game of death! One of you could die tomorrow so you really shouldn't be letting your heart race at 100 miles per hour just because he's cute.

Before the both of you knew it, there was already five minutes until lights out and you'd all have to go to sleep to have energy for tomorrow’s game. You looked over at Dae-ho before speaking up. “Dae-ho, I'll be back. I'm just going to use the restroom,” you say with a small smile. When he nods his head, you wave before walking off quickly towards the door. He watched as you knocked on it before having it opened by a guard and then promptly disappearing round the corner. 

He let out a sigh before turning around and walking over to Jung-bae. You were so pretty. He honestly couldn't believe you were real. Maybe his brain had made you up as a coping mechanism? You were just so perfect in his eyes. Everything he could possibly want. God, he'd love to take you to dinner sometime when both of you get out of this place so he can give you the love and attention you deserve. He just wished that he could cover your face in kisses for hours on end and hold your hand while taking a walk together. He didn't care if it was cliche. It didn't matter because it was for you.

He finally made it to Jung-Bae and took a seat next to him quietly. He shifted slightly to rest his chin on his hand and waited for Jung-Bae to ask what was on his mind. It was quiet for a few moments as Jung-bae chose to pretend like Dae-ho definitely didn’t have anything to say about you so Dae-ho made the quick decision to let out another sigh- this time much louder to catch Jung-bae’s attention and force him to ask what's on his mind.

Jung-bae turns to look at him with slight annoyance. “What? Don't just sit there and sigh. What is it?” Jung-bae asks as Dae-ho turns to look at him with a shy smile. “She’s so pretty,” he says with his face flushed slightly red, embarrassed that he was fawning over you like this. “Huh?” Jung-bae responds, confused about what he was talking about. 

“Her. She’s so pretty. She has the most amazing laugh and the cutest smile and-” Dae-ho begins to speak before receiving a smack over the back of his head making him shut up. The smile on his face drops as he looks at Jung-bae like a confused puppy.

“You're such a fool. You just met her a few hours ago,” he says as he shakes his head in disapproval. Dae-ho laughs nervously as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess.. but still. She's so perfect,” he says in poor defense. 

He hears the door open and his head snaps towards it immediately. He was hoping it was you because he already missed talking to you, even if it's only been a few minutes since you left for the bathrooms. When he sees you, he quickly smiles and, if he was a dog, anyone would see his tail wagging back and forth. Jung-bae let out a sigh and shook his head like some father who was disappointed in his son.

“You're planning to ask her out, aren't you?” He says only to get an immediate response.

“absolutely,”

Hi! I want to ask if there's any hwang in ho fic in the making at the moment? I still can't get over your 'crossroad' fic. I'm dying here, i need your work like i need air and water lol.

I am planning to send you a request, and i am wondering if you are comfortable at writing in ho x reader with the age gap? (20s reader)

lots of love 💋

hii!! I actually have two in-ho pics planned! one is a blurb I'm gonna post later and one is another long fic lol (currently as 17k words)

as for your request, i'll definitely add that! I have another request that perfectly matches with yours :)

thank you for your support <33

---

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."