*Please check the trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter by the authors note before reading if necessary. Thank you*

Walking out of that dorm felt oddly bitter-sweet.

Bitter because he strangely enjoyed the aura, atmosphere, dynamic--whatever it was--that he and Yoonah managed to create. It was dwindling cold wrapped in flames, a blazing piquant core thawing it's icy exteriors, unveiling a formidable path.

Sweet because he can finally breathe.

Still, his lungs felt constricted anywhere he seemed to go, but significantly less without the daunting weight of his mask.

As he walked further away, he felt only the dread of what was yet to come intensify.

By the time he had actually left her dorm, night had risen. Most students were just coming back from dinner, and Jaemin thought that it would be nice to bring Yoonah a meal. She was probably starving, and would definitely appreciate it (or maybe not. Some days, it seemed like she wanted nothing more than to throttle his throat. It was mentally scarring), but the thought of going back to those halls brought more anxiety than Jaemin would like to admit.

No matter how much of a front Jaemin puts up, he still will never get used to those stares. Although, now that they're going through with this 'fake relationship' ordeal, the stares will only increase.

Not to sound cocky, but many hearts will certainly break once the news that Na Jaemin's heart has finally been raptured spreads.

The idea scares him entirely. In fact, he's not even quite sure why he agreed to it in the first place. Contrary to popular belief, Jaemin has never been in a relationship. He isn't the romantic Casanova that many girls dream about. In fact, he lacks any romantic experience. A dead mouse is probably more romantic than him.

But if the shoe fits, right?

His feet guide him on their own accord, memorizing every corridor of this wretched school. He finds himself in front of a familiar dorm too soon, and doesn't bother to knock. There's no need to; he's always welcome.

Plus, it seems that Lee Jeno has a second sense when it comes to Jaemin.

When he enters the dull dorm, the others are already sprawled across the room with ease. It's past curfew, and none of them are meant to be there, but of course, nobody cares. Who would dare stop them, anyhow?

The room is cast in a dark aura, the only lighting being a coffee-scented candle and one lone lamp in the corner. The black curtains were drawn, though the silver moonlight did little to ease the tension swimming in the room.

The others pretended to ignore it, but it became unbearable the moment Jaemin stepped into the room.

Donghyuck was sprawled across the bed, while Renjun sat at the end of the bed with the younger's feet resting on his lap. His calves were being used as a prop for his art journal, which he was scribbling in furiously. Chenle laid on top of the dark blue rug while Jisung lay on his stomach. They seemed to be conversing lazily, words slurred together as Chenle threaded his fingers through the others hair.

Then sat Jeno on his throne, or better known as: his desk. It sat in front of the window, and he sat upright and rigid. His cold eyes met his the moment the door closed behind him. The lion meets the fox.

Immediately, he stood from his desk and marched right up to him. "You're late." His expression is composed, but to Jaemin's trained eye can see right through it. He's seething.

"Late for what?" He glances around the room, raising a brow. "Did I miss bedtime stories? Oh dear..." He feigned innocence, raising the back of his hand to his forehead for a dramatized effect.

Bad idea.

His wrist was nearly snapped in half by the sheer force Jeno snatched it with. His other came up to wrap around his throat, nails digging into soft flesh.  "I don't have time for your games tonight, Jaemin," he breathed into his ear. "Am I clear?"

Jaemin's skin was crawling with every little touch, or the twitch in his fingers reminded him of those nights. The room felt much too small and shadows swirled in every corner, just waiting to catch him and wrap their cold tendrils around his body. Goosebumps trailed his skin in fear as he fought back the urge to fold in on himself.

Jeno knew what he was doing -- and well aware of Jaemin's aversion to sudden touch. But that didn't matter tonight. He wanted to instill dominance and trepidation. Jaemin just happened to be in his way, and there was an audience. So really, it was just the perfect timing.

Jaemin gulped. It was foolish of him to think he could act any different and get away with it. Especially with finals nearing. He should know better. Jeno's senses are especially heightened during this time and his anxiety runs high.

He bows his head, ignoring his pounding heart and burning flesh. "Clear."

After one final look, Jeno releases his wrist and grip on his neck. It was never suffocating, because Jeno knew that just the mere weight of it would cause more harm than actually choking him. The brunette would have preferred the latter, actually. Maybe then he would've been focused on the lack of oxygen rather than his past, but Jeno always has reason over his actions. Jaemin is quick to cradle his wrist in his palms, attempting to rub away the aching sting. He's quick to notice the other's stares, and feels a flash of irrational anger towards their indifference.

"The dove took more of my attention than I anticipated." He offers as an excuse, which is partly the truth. Jeno doesn't need to know that Jaemin willing chose to stay to nurse her back to semi-health.

Jeno sends him a harsh look, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Our dove isn't the one in charge, is she? Neither are you."

Jaemin is well aware of that, always has been but decides that now is not the time for snarky comments. He still feels the strong urge to scrub his skin until it's raw and bleeding, so his brain isn't the sharpest right now. Perhaps that's what Jeno intended - after all, he knows him better than anyone.

The lion rubs his temples in irritation. Jaemin wonders what got him in such a foul mood - even this is a little extreme. He gives him an expecting look. "What did you get on her?"

"Not much. She reads, a lot. Plays the piano, it seems--"

Chenle squeaks. "She's amazing at it. The other day--" Donghyuck jabs him in the rib and shoots him a hard glare, though it's too late.

Jeno's eyes widen as he seizes the orange-haired, yanking him closer by the tie of his uniform. Jaemin startles and steps forward to interject, but finds himself stepping back at the last minute. It seems even he is a coward towards Jeno's rage, and a petty part of himself reminds him of the endless times his friends have witnessed Jeno's anger being directed towards Jaemin (which is a majority of the time) and did nothing.

"She joined the choir?" When he receives no answers, he nearly growls. "When was this?"

Chenle's cheeks are flushed red. "Uh, I-I don't--know, a day--two days ago?"

Jisung stands, hands hesitating. "Jeno, come on, there's no need for this."

His pleas go ignored. "And nobody thought to tell me?"

Donghyuck shifts anxiously. "We didn't think it was necessary."

Jeno throws Chenle back to the ground in a fit of rage. Jisung goes down with him, rubbing his back soothingly and straightening his tie.

His eyes sweep across the room. "Any and everything comes back to me. Always. Got it?" His eyes meet Jaemin's, and the latter finds himself shrinking into himself. "Did you know about this?"

Jaemin shakes his head violently. "No, no, I swear I didn't."

That doesn't seem to be the right answer apparently, because then Jeno is storming towards him with his fist raised and socks him right in the nose. There's an unsettling crack before the pain sinks in and Jaemin is covering his nose with his palm in shock as dots cloud his vision. When he removes his hand, it's covered in his own blood. He can hear Renjun's sharp gasp in the background, but still, no one gets up. No one says anything, or does anything.

Cowards.

When he finally gains the courage to look back up without worrying if he'll faint, he's met with Jeno's dark, fuming eyes. He's towering over him in full unadulterated animosity. Jaemin blinks, still hazy and filled with pain and remnants of the past and all he can think is -- when did he get so big?

His voice is lower when he speaks. "I have picked you up and put you back together time and time again, do not disappoint me now."

Jaemin swallows anxiously and nods his head. "I'll do better."

"I promise."

━

The walk back to his own dorm was unbearable.

Jaemin flinched at every corner, hyper-aware of any sounds or sudden footsteps. Hands wrapped tightly around his body as he rushed to the safety of his own room. He knows he must have look pathetic -- Na Jaemin, second in command and a king of his own, stumbling and panting through the hallways like a flushed wreck.

Jumping at the sound of his own door closing behind him, he hurdles past the stacks of books and papers he left on the floor, pillows thrown in fits after a nightmare or sleepless night, and turns on the fluorescent light in his bathroom and clenches the edge of the counter until his knuckles turn white.

He stares at his deathly reflection in the mirror and counts to three.

1, 2, 3. He gasps, tears welling up in his eyes. Fuck.

His skin is dirty, covered in smut and grime and unwanted handprints, nails dragging into his skin and leaving him covered in ghastly bruises and red slashes. His skin may look pure now, but he will never be clean.

Na Jaemin is filthy.

A whine heaves from his throat. His hands slap against the toggle and is consumed by darkness. With his reflection no longer visible, he undresses himself with shaking hands. Unwraps his tie from his neck and shrugs the jacket off. His button up shirt slides down the small of his back and it feels all too familiar. He chokes on his saliva mixed with salted tears when he unbuttons his pants and halts at the hem of his boxers.

His skin is itching and begging to scrub the memories away, and yet he can't get himself to remove his boxers.

Do not disappoint me now.

His boxers remain wrapped around his hips, covering the most shameful secrets of his past as he steps into the steaming shower, blazing water pattering against his flushed skin.

It's not enough.

He scrubs his body with soap (it's his skin, so why does it look like someone else's?), fast and rapid as his chest heaves and burns with the imprints of chapped lips, swirling tongues and unwanted touches.

It's not enough.

Nails scrape against his filthy, inflamed skin fervently as his body trembles until he's completely bare and raw, the most depth parts of himself leaking in the form of his own blood and steaming water, swirling fragments of himself into the drain.

It will never be enough.

━

There's a faint knock on his bedroom door late at night, so light that if Jaemin still were not as vigilant as he was, he probably would have missed it.

When he doesn't respond, there's another knock - this time more impatient. Jaemin has bveen laying lazily on his futon after wrapping a measly band aid over his aching nose, in his crumbled trousers and one of Jeno's wrinkled navy blue sweatshirts. It swallows him whole and allows him to disappear into whatever maladaptive daydream he chooses.

"Jaemin," a voice hisses and another knock sounds. "If you don't open this door right now--"

The boy heaves a tired sigh and traipses to the door, and Yoonah comes tumbling into the room and right into his chest. She blinks owlishly with her hands on his chest, and Jaemin has to suppress a shiver at the touch; his skin is still itching. Show no weaknesses. Luckily, she steps back quickly and closes the door shut before letting out a deep sigh.

Her glare returns. "I almost got caught by the DA, you inconsiderate twerp."

Jaemin blinks. "You're quite aggressive tonight."

"Forgive me, the stab wound in my stomach gave me a particular twist for vengeance." Her eyes dart across his dark room, and Jaemin realizes how much of a mess it is. A direct inside into his mind. Shit.

If she notices, she doesn't say anything about it. Instead, her gaze travels down his body and a brow raises. "Is that what you're wearing?"

Jaemin follows her gaze and shrugs.

"Doesn't seem very efficient to fight in."

His lips quirk at the thought and a small chuckle bubbles in his chest. "You thought I was going to teach you to fight tonight?"

"Well, what else?" Yoonah snaps, seemingly annoyed by his judgement. Funny, because she was freely judging him not even three seconds ago.

"You don't deep dive without gear first, right?"

"I don't really have the patience for your riddles today, Jaemin."

"You can't fight with an open and unhealed wound, idiot," Jaemin deadpans. "Also, what're you doing here? We were supposed to meet in the library." He tilts his head. "Couldn't wait to see me that much?"

Yoonah crosses her arms and furrows her brows. "In case you didn't notice, it's 10:00. I was waiting at the library, and you didn't come," she huffs, blowing a stray strand of chestnut hair out of her face. "I was worried about you." She mumbles the last part quietly, but Jaemin still caught it.

Something stirs uncomfortably in his chest.

He glances at the watch around his wrist. Indeed, it was past their agreed meeting time. He rubs his arms and fights the itch. "Sorry, I lost track of time."

"Clearly," she scoffs, but then her eyes narrow as she looks up at his face. "What happened to your nose?"

Jaemin was starting to get a little annoyed at the girl's apparent keen attention to detail.

"I walked into a pole." 

A brow raises. "Didn't take you for a clumsy type."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me." He snaps, and immediately regrets it. Not because he cares about the way he makes the girl feel at the moment, no, he doesn't have the mental capacity for that right now.

Yoonah winces and bites her lip to refrain from saying anything. They stand in silence for a moment, letting the tension soak in.

That seems to be the only thing Jaemin feels lately. Tension and exhaustion. All he wants is to sink into that couch and never get up again.

"Can I show you something?" Yoonah suddenly asks.

Jaemin looks at her with disinterest. What could be more enticing than his own couch right now? Still, he finds himself nodding his head.

She reaches her hand out, but seems to think better of it and retracts it. Jaemin feels a tiny weight lift off his chest—at least she doesn't expect anything from him tonight. One of the first people to not try to take from him.

It was relieving.

She opens the door and looks both ways out before waving her hand, signaling him to follow her.

The hallway is dark and silent, only the sound of their pounding footsteps resonating through the walls as the run down the corridor. Yoonah giggles, running her hands across the gilded wall. Her hair flows freely from her shoulders, bouncing with every step. She turns her head back every now and then to make sure Jaemin is still following, and sends him a wide smile.

Jaemin can't help but return it.

It's cold in the hallway, and Jaemin doesn't even have shoes on. Only a pair of white socks, but he finds himself not caring anymore. So be it if his socks get dirty, it wouldn't be the first part of him to be tainted.

Yoonah comes to a halt in a tiny corner in one of the west wing hallways. Jaemin trails behind her, chest nearly touching her back as they pant in the hallway, faint smiles still adorning their lips.

In front of her is a rusted door with splintered wood. Her hand rests on the golden knob and she pulls a bobby pin from her hair before jabbing it in the lock.

"You do realize that only works in movies, right?" Jaemin questions.

She smirks. "Watch and learn, pretty boy."

After a few moments on ungracious jiggling, the door clicks and opens.

Jaemin's mouth hangs open. "Beginners luck." He scoffs.

"This wasn't my first time doing it." She winks before entering the small space and steps on the the metal spiral staircase. It creaks underneath her weight but she pays no mind as she walks two steps at a time. Jaemin presses on the railing, ensuring it's sturdy before following her up.

When they reach the top, there's another door but this one is pushed open with ease, no jiggling necessary. Thank god. If Jaemin had to see Yoonah struggle with a doorknob one more time he may actually stab his own eyeball.

As the door swings open they're hit with a gust of wind that reminds Jaemin of how painfully alive he is. It slaps his skin and paints his cheeks red, the blood circulating through his veins. It threads its fingers through his ash hair and whispers empty promises of a future.

Waning crescent nestled in the milky sky as pearls littered the dark river above. It was the promise of light in darkness; a vastness offering warmth and solitude. When Yoonah turns back to him, he briefly thinks her eyes might outshine the stars.

She walks further out onto the roof, and it's then Jaemin observes his surroundings. In the center of the roof is a short, squared wood table meant for one. There's two cushions on the floor on each side of the table, and a pink blanket folded beside it. Of course it's pink. Jaemin finds himself grinning softly at it.

Yoonah is already at the table, settling onto the cushion and wrapping the blanket over her legs. She drags the second cushion beside her and pats it, looking up at him expectantly.

Biting his lip, he shuffles over and plops onto the cushion. Yoonah places the blanket over his lap, making sure to cover him entirely with it. It makes his heart warm at the consideration.

Their knees are brushing against each other, and while the touch isn't agonizing, Jaemin still isn't sure how long he'll be able to take it.

He sighs, desperate to think about anything other than touch.

"How did you find this place?" He asks.

Yoonah turns to him. "One night, well, one of the first nights I came here, I felt so trapped by these walls. It felt...suffocating, and a horrible part of me wanted them to eat me alive or take my body so I'd never have to deal with—with this place again. So I snuck out and tried to find a way out of this place and found that door," she looks around, cheeks flushed. "It always seems to be windy up here, and sometimes, it reminds me that I'm breathing."

Jaemin sucked in a sharp breath.

She continued. "So whenever I get that same feeling, whether I'm thinking about my parents, this school or...about you, I come up here. I feel the bitter cold of the night and count the stars until my chest doesn't hurt anymore."

She sends him a soft look.

"This is my safe place," her hands fiddle with a strand of her hair and her knee pushes closer to his. "and I wouldn't mind if it became yours too."

Jaemin stares. It's all he seems to be able to do. At Yoonah, and her eyes filled with generosity and a warmth he's never felt before. At the halo on her head. At the midnight sky, at her name intertwined with the stars.

She is everywhere, and Jaemin gets the sense that he's beginning to lose control.

His gaze hardens and he straightens his shoulders. His knee grows cold, immediately missing her heat as he pulls away. "I don't need a safe place. I don't know where you got the idea, but I'm fine."

Yoonah leans over, hand resting over his thigh. Jaemin's not sure if she did it consciously or unconsciously, but it made that growing heat in his stomach lurch up to his throat.

"Earlier I asked you if you would let me get to know you, and you didn't answer. I'm asking you again."

Her eyes are earnest and full of kindness and sincerity, and it intimidates Jaemin far more than Jeno's animosity-fueled glare ever could.

He stands up abruptly, desperate for a higher ground, and stares down at her.

"I'm tired, Yoonah." Is all he can say.

Her gaze falls, all signs of hope eradicating from her features.

"Oh," she says softly. "I guess it is late."

They both know he wasn't talking about sleep.

He begins walking to the door. Yoonah doesn't bother to follow him, instead she wraps herself further into the blanket and looks up into the stars. Jaemin thinks she looks far more younger and innocent like this, and a pang of guilt strikes him hard in the chest.

"You have made it look quite lovely up here, you know." He finds himself speaking, hand resting on the door knob. Just mere seconds from pulling himself away.

She sighs. "I did, huh?"

He opens the door. "Goodnight, Yoonah."

He doesn't bother to wait to hear her say it back. He's not sure if she did.

━

When Jaemin returns to his dorm, Jeno is already there.

Jaemin can't tell if the pique in his heart is from anticipation or annoyance.

Jeno wraps his arms tightly around his shoulders, shoving his head into the crook of his neck. He inhales his nostalgic scent and takes it all in, and wraps his arms around the others waist despite the itch never quite going away.

They sway in silence, before Jeno breath ruffles his hair.

"You know I just get worried, right?"

Jaemin nods.

"I don't mean to snap at you. I just get so mad sometimes, I can't control it."

Jaemin nods.

"You know I'd never hurt you."

Jaemin nods.

Jeno places his forehead against his own, passion and lust filled eyes boring into his own.

"You're my most valued possession. Don't fail me now, little raven. I need you now more than ever."

━

Jaemin never thought a raven suited him.

TW: violence, panic attacks, dissociation, and references to past sexual harassment/assault.

my word count is slowly
getting longer and longer
as this fic progresses and
i do not know how to feel
about it.

anyway. enjoy. leave a
vote and comment! <3