Taeyong had no idea what he was supposed to say.

He had been the one to call Shao, that was true, but he hadn't thought ahead about the conversation. The fact that she had accepted was a surprising development in itself; he had only expected her to laugh or turn him down with a joke or a glint of mischief in her eye. A glint of mischief he had got, that was for sure, but beyond that he had found his rather harsh invitation being accepted as well—and without much fuss, too.

"What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" Shao asked, her hands resting on the balustrade. She was perched atop the railing with her head cocked to the side. Her hair was loose today, spilling over her shoulders in a curtain of black silk, and she had actually worn something that fitted her, jeans and a gray t-shirt that said Unicorns FTW.

"Unicorns don't exist," Taeyong said before he could realize what he was saying.

She glanced self-consciously down at her t-shirt, then looked back up at him with narrowed eyes. "If superheroes do, so do unicorns," she said with a sniff, moving her dangling legs with a kick. "And if that was the only thing you wanted to say, you could've said that in front of an audience."

He had to consciously make an effort not to bite his lip in indecision. They were far away from the others—visible, yes, but out of earshot at least. Taeyong looked back towards the ring of chairs, and found Baekhyun calmly flipping through holographic screens with text too small to read, but Taeyong thought he saw a penguin in the pictures somewhere.

The only reason he had had the ability to approach him and Shao to break up their little party was an ugly, alien feeling in his chest and the excessive amount of alcohol in his gut. Taeyong wasn't a drinker, and the last time he'd had any alcohol was when he'd accidentally taken someone else's drink at a birthday party for Jaemin's friend's mom.

He sucked in a breath as Shao watched him expectantly, trying to school his features into a thinking face. What could he talk about? He looked back at Shao—mostly out of a strange urge—and saw the scar that ran under her eye, looking like the jagged blade of a serrated knife in the moonlight.

"That night before the diner, you told me about the fire at the circus," he said. The words surprised him as they came out, as if he hadn't been the one to speak them. "You said the flames were white—and I know what the lighting inside a circus is like, so it couldn't have been that. Are you sure the fire was actually white?"

A flicker of something like disappointment crossed Shao's face, but not before she smothered it. "No, that was just to enhance the horror factor of the tale," she said. "You know about my superb storytelling skills."

He wanted to smile, since he hadn't exactly been looking for a proper direction for the conversation with his question, but didn't. He had thought that the inquiry had emerged from a lack of imagination, but now guessed that his overactive subconscious might actually have been on to something.

So, instead of smiling, he raised an eyebrow.

Shao, upon catching his proffering look, sobered, sighing as she turned her gaze downward. "Okay, yes," she muttered. Her tone was reluctant, though he couldn't quite figure out why. There was no reason for her to not want to talk about the issue—except, of course, he realized with a dull twinge in his heart, the trauma she associated with the event. "The flames were white."

Confusion flooded through him, leaving him stunned and silent for a few seconds, disbelieving of the fact that his meaningless words had actually gleaned something meaningful. "Are you absolutely sure?" Taeyong asked, eyebrows drawing together, making his forehead crease like a bound curtain. "Because if you aren't—"

"I am." There was finality in her tone, and an absolute exhaustion that showed up stark in her face, so used he was to seeing mirth in her eyes. Shao pushed off the railing and folded her arms over her chest, regarding him wearily. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You said the fire ate up everything," he said, a little troubled at the sudden change in tone. "No one was able to stop it, right? What if that wasn't because the authorities acted late? What if it actually—"

"Taeyong, stop," she said tiredly, and he clamped his mouth shut. She looked enervated, and a little disappointed, and he realized with a jolt that she had used his name. "I get that this mission thing means everything to you, and that it's the biggest priority right now, but you can't work all the time."

His lips thinned. Taeyong glanced away from her, out at the skyline, feeling the wind ruffle his already messy hair. "I can do whatever I want."

"Yes, you can," she said with a roll of her eyes. "But that doesn't mean you should. There are other people around you, Taeyong, they're around you right now. You can't slack off when they depend on you, but you shouldn't have to shoulder all that responsibility yourself, either." She sighed, rubbing slow circles on her temples. "Take a breather. Think about other things for a while—the case isn't going anywhere, and you work better when you know what you're working for."

He didn't look at her, pursing his mouth. "That has nothing to do with what I asked you."

"But it does." She put a hand on his arm, and he felt a jolt go through him, like static electricity, except a hundred times stronger. "Leave this be for a night. Just one night. You can ask me whatever the hell you want tomorrow—just...relax a little. You need it."

I didn't come here to relax, he wanted to argue back, but pulled himself back. Taeyong allowed himself a glance—Shao's eyes were calmer than he had ever seen them, almost serene, and her hand was still on his arm, a warm and comforting presence. For a moment, he imagined her hands on his shoulders, leaning against him, and lost himself so much in the thought that he had difficulty pulling himself out.

He stepped back, freeing his arm, and she dropped her hand. There was an inexplicable block in his chest, like he had eaten something he couldn't swallow, and now it was swelling up inside his chest. It felt uncannily like a sucker punch to the gut.

Air left his lungs in a slow exhale, and Shao tipped her face up to look at him. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, coming into view only when the air shifted them, but he could see her face clearly in the starlight—cupped water from a well, the line of her jaw like the line of his palm, and for a moment, he wanted to move closer.

Then he looked away.

Shao stepped back, and he stared down at his shoes unblinkingly. It's just guilt, he told himself savagely, because she saved your life and you treated her like shit. You're imagining emotions. Don't overstep.

"I think Kai and Ten are having a moment," Shao observed, breaking the spell, and he looked towards them slowly. Sure enough, the two were hugging each other tightly, looking very drunk, Ten patting Kai's back over and over as what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. Despite his earlier thoughts, Taeyong smiled.

"You know, I've never been hugged," she said, and he glanced at her in surprise.

"Never?" he echoed, stunned. "In your entire life?"

"Maybe as a baby, but I don't really remember it." She frowned thoughtfully, staring at a spot on the ground as if trying to recall. "Besides, that doesn't count, because babies can't hug back properly."

"I thought occultists were born with full command of their motor abilities."

"Aren't you quite the comedian?" She rolled her eyes, making him smile. This was what he was used to, and oddly enough, its familiarity gave him comfort. "I can guess what hugs feel like, though. They've always seemed so tightly bound, like the two people are packed together as well as they can—as well as human bodies can fit. Even better than during sex."

"It was going great, and then you ruined it with the sex thing."

She gave him a do-I-look-like-I-care face, leaning with her elbows against the guardrails. "Two of my roommates used to argue about which one was better—a back hug, or a normal hug."

"Which one do you think is better?" he asked, thinking of Jaemin and how he liked hugs, his face squashed against Taeyong's shoulder as his pink hair tickled his face. He smiled a little.

"I think I'd like to try both," she said. "At the same time. Though it would be kind of awkward, because the two people on either side might not want to face each other and, I don't know, accidentally touch hands or something."

He smirked. "How considerate."

She gave a little bow, and he laughed, looking back at Ten and Kai, who were still hugging it out. Taeyong thought of Lucas's smile, and Baekhyun's fond eyes, and felt something lighten up inside him.

Though he wasn't likely to cash in his coupons soon, it was nice knowing he had people he could hug.

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so after the note last chapter i realized i never explained how one could vote.......

all you have to do is scooch over to the @thefictionawards account, open the pink book titled The Fiction Awards 2020, and vote in the specific categories such as best plot, best protagonist, and other stuff by commenting. if you're still confused, instructions are inside the book. happy voting!