(Some Mystic Messenger Zen fan fiction, which I never do, but it was a prompt and a challenge from violets_will on reddit and a palate cleanser after reading a particularly horrible, horrible piece that involved dripping. Seriously. I haven't written fan fiction since I was about fifteen. Not posting this anywhere else as it probably wouldn't be good to have ff attached to my real name ;-)
This assumes the party was in January…)
It had been just a little over three weeks since the party. Three weeks since everything had changed. Four weeks, really, if you counted that strange, almost dream-like time spent living in Rika’s old apartment, surrounded by dust and the mementos of a dead girl MC had never met. A month. So much had happened in that time.
And, at the same time, so little. MC shook her head as she looked at the note Zen had left behind. Crazy, sweet Zen. It was Valentine’s Day but he had a full schedule and had left before she had even woken up. A rehearsal, lunch with the director, a model shoot, dinner with a producer. I’m so sorry, Babe, he’d written. I couldn’t get out of it. I’ll make it up to you later. I’ll be home by ten. Promise.
Did he even realise it was Valentine’s Day? He must have. If there was one thing that was certain about Zen, it was that he was a romantic and a gentleman.
Sometimes, too much of a gentleman. Maybe that was Jumin’s fault. He and Zen were on increasingly good terms now and Zen was listening to his advice like he never had before. And Jumin…that rat. She shook her head again as she flipped through the last few chats in the messenger. I am opposed to living together before marriage. He somehow managed to work that into the conversation every single time they chatted. Every single damn time. Even Jaehee had told him to give it a rest.
But maybe that was why Zen was holding something back. They had kissed, yes, meltingly hot kisses that made MC weak in the knees and drove all thought out of her head. And he would hug her, sometimes without any warning, coming up from behind and wrapping her in warmth and the smell of him. Was she the only one that knew that the intoxicating scent of him didn’t come from cologne? It was just Zen, all Zen.
And at the end of every day, he would kiss her good night and go back to his room to sleep and she, she would go off to the guest room—she didn’t want to call it her room, because that made it feel permanent, like she was relegated there forever— and stare at the wall, picturing him on the other side of it in his bed.
Well. It was Valentine’s Day and she was going to do something about it. Jumin be damned. They were living together but if they were ever going to get closer, something had to happen and what better day to have it happen on? Hopefully cupid was on her side.
She went shopping and came back with everything she needed. The afternoon was spent baking homemade chocolates (they were embarrassingly lopsided, but she hoped it was the thought that counted) and the evening pulling apart dozens of roses and setting up candles. She sprinkled the petals from the front door to his bedroom, all the way to the bed, a velvety red and pink path…to happiness, she hoped. Was it too much? Too cheesy? Maybe too stereotypical? At half past nine she slowly lit the candles and turned off all the lights. She’d bought one for every day that they had known each other, not that she expected him to notice, but it pleased her nonetheless.
And for the final touch, she changed into the most important thing. The filmiest, flimsiest, sheerest thing she had ever worn in her entire life and settled herself on his bed, that bed that smelled so much like him that it made her heart beat faster just to be there, and waited.
Zen put his key in the lock, juggling an armload full of flowers. He’d started with one bouquet of lilies but then there’d been the tulips and the daisies and each one had made him think of MC in one way or another. In the end, he’d bought them all. He hoped she wouldn’t laugh. And he hoped she wasn’t mad, though she absolutely had reason to be. The dinner had run late and it was nearly midnight. He should have been home hours ago, especially on Valentine’s Day.
He opened the door and pushed it open with his hip. “Babe?” he called softly, not wanting to wake her up if she was asleep already. “I’m home…” God, he’d never get tired of saying those words. He’d never realised before that his apartment hadn’t felt like a home, not until she had come. He’d thought it was, but he was wrong. It had been empty.
He took a step inside, something soft under his feet. There were candles everywhere, their flames flickering like twinkling stars, shadows dancing on the walls. He carefully set the flowers down on a chair and took a long look around. Oh. There was a carpet of rose petals leading to his room, the door just slightly cracked. He could see there were more candles in there but that was all he could tell from where he was. He glanced at the door to her room. It was closed.
Was she in his room…?
He slipped off his shoes and jacket, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. His hands were shaking and he quickly patted himself on the face. One, two, three. Now was not the time to be shaking!
He took a few tiptoed steps forward, the rose petals soft against his feet as he followed the path to his door. Everything was quiet. Was she in there? Waiting for him? Was this okay? He’d tried so hard to not rush things, to not rush her. She’d been through so much and was always there for him. Everyone had emailed him to take things slow, except for 707, who had advised him to accidentally walk in on her in the bath. But no one was stupid enough to take 707’s advice.
He pushed the door open slowly and caught his breath. She was asleep, there in his bed, curled up against his pillow, her dark hair spread out like fairy wings. There were fewer candles in here and they had burned down low, but they still managed to cast a flickering glow upon her that tinged her skin a golden color. He tiptoed closer, barely breathing.
Then he saw, really saw, what she was wearing and his breath left him completely, in one shuddering whoosh. Even in the dim candlelight it was virtually see-through! He could see--! He put a hand to his mouth, fingers trembling. Maybe he should have ignored everyone else and listened to 707 for once.
He was at the side of the bed before he had even consciously made the decision to move. He leaned over her, watching the rise and fall of her breath, and with one shaking finger he brushed a few stray strands of her hair from her face. She was so beautiful.
Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked up at him for a moment as if she was wondering if she was still dreaming.
“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Zen whispered.
She caught his hand in hers, pressing it to her cheek. “All that matters is that you’re here now,” she said. She turned her head and kissed his palm, a butterfly kiss that gave him a shiver from the inside out. He froze, so many things he wanted to do or say next that he wasn’t sure what to do.
“I—” he said.
She smiled up at him. “Shhhh. We’ve talked enough, don’t you think?” And she pulled him down next to her, his silver head next to her own dark one, like the moon and the night, entwined.
(that was all the time I had and I didn't edit it at all...so...you can just imagine what happens next...)
This assumes the party was in January…)
*****
It had been just a little over three weeks since the party. Three weeks since everything had changed. Four weeks, really, if you counted that strange, almost dream-like time spent living in Rika’s old apartment, surrounded by dust and the mementos of a dead girl MC had never met. A month. So much had happened in that time.
And, at the same time, so little. MC shook her head as she looked at the note Zen had left behind. Crazy, sweet Zen. It was Valentine’s Day but he had a full schedule and had left before she had even woken up. A rehearsal, lunch with the director, a model shoot, dinner with a producer. I’m so sorry, Babe, he’d written. I couldn’t get out of it. I’ll make it up to you later. I’ll be home by ten. Promise.
Did he even realise it was Valentine’s Day? He must have. If there was one thing that was certain about Zen, it was that he was a romantic and a gentleman.
Sometimes, too much of a gentleman. Maybe that was Jumin’s fault. He and Zen were on increasingly good terms now and Zen was listening to his advice like he never had before. And Jumin…that rat. She shook her head again as she flipped through the last few chats in the messenger. I am opposed to living together before marriage. He somehow managed to work that into the conversation every single time they chatted. Every single damn time. Even Jaehee had told him to give it a rest.
But maybe that was why Zen was holding something back. They had kissed, yes, meltingly hot kisses that made MC weak in the knees and drove all thought out of her head. And he would hug her, sometimes without any warning, coming up from behind and wrapping her in warmth and the smell of him. Was she the only one that knew that the intoxicating scent of him didn’t come from cologne? It was just Zen, all Zen.
And at the end of every day, he would kiss her good night and go back to his room to sleep and she, she would go off to the guest room—she didn’t want to call it her room, because that made it feel permanent, like she was relegated there forever— and stare at the wall, picturing him on the other side of it in his bed.
Well. It was Valentine’s Day and she was going to do something about it. Jumin be damned. They were living together but if they were ever going to get closer, something had to happen and what better day to have it happen on? Hopefully cupid was on her side.
She went shopping and came back with everything she needed. The afternoon was spent baking homemade chocolates (they were embarrassingly lopsided, but she hoped it was the thought that counted) and the evening pulling apart dozens of roses and setting up candles. She sprinkled the petals from the front door to his bedroom, all the way to the bed, a velvety red and pink path…to happiness, she hoped. Was it too much? Too cheesy? Maybe too stereotypical? At half past nine she slowly lit the candles and turned off all the lights. She’d bought one for every day that they had known each other, not that she expected him to notice, but it pleased her nonetheless.
And for the final touch, she changed into the most important thing. The filmiest, flimsiest, sheerest thing she had ever worn in her entire life and settled herself on his bed, that bed that smelled so much like him that it made her heart beat faster just to be there, and waited.
++++++++++
Zen put his key in the lock, juggling an armload full of flowers. He’d started with one bouquet of lilies but then there’d been the tulips and the daisies and each one had made him think of MC in one way or another. In the end, he’d bought them all. He hoped she wouldn’t laugh. And he hoped she wasn’t mad, though she absolutely had reason to be. The dinner had run late and it was nearly midnight. He should have been home hours ago, especially on Valentine’s Day.
He opened the door and pushed it open with his hip. “Babe?” he called softly, not wanting to wake her up if she was asleep already. “I’m home…” God, he’d never get tired of saying those words. He’d never realised before that his apartment hadn’t felt like a home, not until she had come. He’d thought it was, but he was wrong. It had been empty.
He took a step inside, something soft under his feet. There were candles everywhere, their flames flickering like twinkling stars, shadows dancing on the walls. He carefully set the flowers down on a chair and took a long look around. Oh. There was a carpet of rose petals leading to his room, the door just slightly cracked. He could see there were more candles in there but that was all he could tell from where he was. He glanced at the door to her room. It was closed.
Was she in his room…?
He slipped off his shoes and jacket, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. His hands were shaking and he quickly patted himself on the face. One, two, three. Now was not the time to be shaking!
He took a few tiptoed steps forward, the rose petals soft against his feet as he followed the path to his door. Everything was quiet. Was she in there? Waiting for him? Was this okay? He’d tried so hard to not rush things, to not rush her. She’d been through so much and was always there for him. Everyone had emailed him to take things slow, except for 707, who had advised him to accidentally walk in on her in the bath. But no one was stupid enough to take 707’s advice.
He pushed the door open slowly and caught his breath. She was asleep, there in his bed, curled up against his pillow, her dark hair spread out like fairy wings. There were fewer candles in here and they had burned down low, but they still managed to cast a flickering glow upon her that tinged her skin a golden color. He tiptoed closer, barely breathing.
Then he saw, really saw, what she was wearing and his breath left him completely, in one shuddering whoosh. Even in the dim candlelight it was virtually see-through! He could see--! He put a hand to his mouth, fingers trembling. Maybe he should have ignored everyone else and listened to 707 for once.
He was at the side of the bed before he had even consciously made the decision to move. He leaned over her, watching the rise and fall of her breath, and with one shaking finger he brushed a few stray strands of her hair from her face. She was so beautiful.
Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked up at him for a moment as if she was wondering if she was still dreaming.
“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Zen whispered.
She caught his hand in hers, pressing it to her cheek. “All that matters is that you’re here now,” she said. She turned her head and kissed his palm, a butterfly kiss that gave him a shiver from the inside out. He froze, so many things he wanted to do or say next that he wasn’t sure what to do.
“I—” he said.
She smiled up at him. “Shhhh. We’ve talked enough, don’t you think?” And she pulled him down next to her, his silver head next to her own dark one, like the moon and the night, entwined.
(that was all the time I had and I didn't edit it at all...so...you can just imagine what happens next...)
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