Down bad.

You are down bad for Enami Asa.

Yes, your girlfriend. You’re so down bad for her.

There’s no other way to phrase it. You are down bad, like so down bad. You remember how she takes her coffee, how your walking pace slows down subconsciously just so you stay beside her, and how you always apologise first even if you’re unsure what the hell you did.

Which…is probably why you’re standing frozen in the middle of your shared living apartment, staring at the floor with the heart stuck in your throat. The vase is in pieces. Shattered. Obliterated. You had to look again, and yes, it is the vase that Asa bought when you both first moved into the place. Porcelain shards scatter across the vinyl floor, the flowers that were inside now lay on the ground. The horrible quiet afterwards makes your spine shivers, and it takes you a moment before you register what just happened.

“Oh fuck.”

You drop to your knees immediately, and your hands do this weird hovering thing as if magic will come out to repair it. “Ah shit, fuck. No, no, no. Okay. Fine. Hell no it’s not fine, but it’s, hm.. Can I glue this? People glue stuff all the time, right?” You ramble as panic begins to climb fast. “I’ll just carefully—”

“You’re rambling to yourself again.”

You let out a hiccup as you hear the voice coming from behind you. You slowly turn around and, ah shit.

Asa’s standing there. In the doorway, smiling. You know those smiles that aren’t tight-lipped nor polite, but the soft and fond smile like she’s in love? Yeah, the kind she always gives you when you’re darn stupid but endearing. The hoodie sleeves (wait, pretty sure that hoodie is yours) covering her hands, her long pink hair a little messy, and completely calm.

Your heart drops down straight to your stomach. “Oh, hey, Asa.”

She walks over with light steps, and you could only stand there and watch her approach like a kid watching his parents coming over to see the shitshow but you’re powerless to stop it. She looks down at the crime scene on the floor, then back at you…and still smiling. Ah, shit.

“Did something happen?” Gosh, the sweet note in her voice and the way she keeps her smile on makes you sweat buckets.

“I…uh..”

SMACK.

Her hand comes down flat against your upper back. Well, it wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but surely hard enough to make a statement, and hard enough for you to yelp.

She’s mumbling as she keeps smacking you, accompanied by low and rapid mumbles that are absolutely not Korean. Her smile is still there, but it scares the shit out of you. You don’t understand the full phrase, but you don’t need to — she always does this when she’s seriously mad yet doesn’t look like she is. It’s clear that your days are so numbered (Well, not really, but let’s not go to the gritty details.)

“…okay, okay, ow ow ow!” you wheeze, hands up. “I deserved that. I deserved that.”

She gives you one more sharp pat between the shoulders like she’s finishing the thought, then finally steps back. The smile fades just a little as she looks at the broken pieces again. “That was my favourite vase, you know? Your mom bought it for us when we first rented this place.” Her voice remains light, but her eyes surely aren’t.

“I know,” you say immediately. “I’m really sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to. I was reaching for my phone and—”

She sighs, rubbing her temples, then points at the floor. “Clean it up, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t cut yourself,” she adds flatly. “That would make me even more annoyed.”

“Copy that.”

You kneel back down, carefully picking up each shard like a grenade that might explode in your face if you move wrong. But that is nothing compared to the intense glare you can feel from behind. Asa sighs and mutters under her breath again, probably not a compliment. Your shoulders slump.

Damn it. Right when the trip is tomorrow as well. You pray that a good night’s sleep will sooth her anger away. Hopefully.

Yeah she is still mad, and you can absolutely feel the energy from behind before you both even reach the departure gate.

Sunglasses indoors. Her arms crossed so tight like she refuses to be near you. Her noise-cancelling headphones are in, of course they are. Asa walks half a step ahead of you, rolling her suitcase like she’s about to do business and you’re just a mess. Adding the cherry on top, she hasn’t looked at you once, like at all.

You trail after her like a kicked puppy, passport in one hand, phone in the other, guilt sitting heavy in your chest. Every few steps, you open your mouth like you’re going to say something. Every time, you close it again, not daring to add more fuel to the fire that is Enami Asa. Far out, you dream of this trip as a super romantic alone time with your favourite girl, envisioning moments of you holding her hands through security while whispering dumb dad jokes in line. Letting Asa take a selfie at the gate for her to brag with her friends.

Nah, just penance now.

It was so awkward when checking in with the attendant. Asa refused to answer when he asked if you two travelled together. She slides her passport across the counter without a word. It’s only when the attendant asks again when she nods and still refuses to look at you.

You tried again while waiting for your boarding passes with utmost care. Still nothing. (You sigh and stare very hard at the floor afterwards.)

Security is worse. Much, much worse. She goes through first — shoes off, bag in the tray, smooth and efficient. You? Fumbling behind her, almost forget to take your camera out, which earns a disappointed look from the staff. By the time you catch up to her on the other side, she’s already putting her headphones back on.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Can you—”

She finally looks at you. Just a glance over the top of her sunglasses. One eyebrow raised.

You swallow. “…Can you pause your music for a second? Please? Asa?”

She stares at you for a long moment, then sighs dramatically and slides one side of the headphones off. “Five seconds.”

“Okay. I just want to say… you’re still upset, I know. I get it. I just—” You hesitate, then push through. “I don’t want this trip to feel bad for you.”

“Totally not.” she says, quiet but sharp. Ah shit. That one cuts deep when she uses sarcasm.

"Okay, okay, I hear you.” You say quickly. “I'll…make up to you. Whatever you want. Shopping. Food. Fun stuff. I’ll behave. I’ll be good.”

She scoffs. “What are you doing? You aren’t a dog.”

“I can be.” The fuck, your mouth yaps before your brain registered. “W-well, I mean, maybe not walk on all fours, but, you know, I just blur— ugh, I don’t know anymore.”

That…somehow brings out a snort from her? Guess that is a small win.

At the gate, she takes the seat farthest from you. You sit one chair away. Not next to her. You’ve learned your lesson. Minutes pass, and you watch people board, announcements echo overhead. Asa is at the corner of your peripheral, tapping her foot, adjusting her sleeve, and (obviously) keep glancing at you.

Eventually, she pulls one headphone off again.

“You’re carrying my bag,” she says.

Your head snaps up. “I am?”

“Yes, please.” she says, already pushing it toward you with her foot. “My shoulder hurts.”

You grab it instantly. “Aye aye. I’ve got it.”

She pauses, watching you sling it over your shoulder.

“…And you’re buying extra complimentary meals on the plane for me,” she adds.

“Absolutely.”

“And if I want snacks—” “Yes.”

“And if I want something from duty free—” “My wallet is ready. I have a dedicated saving plan named ‘To calm my girlfriend’.”

She tightly compressed her lips (but fails to contain the corner of her mouth from going up), and puts her headphones back on.

The first thing she does when you both arrive in Sydney is dragging you straight into the duty free store at the corner, as she commanded.

Her fingers hook around your wrist the moment you clear arrivals with a firm grip. You can definitely tell jet lag did jack shit to her at all. If anything, Asa looks far, far, far happier than yesterday. Sunglasses finally gone, her eyes sparkles like she has been waiting for the torture of your wallet.

“I wanna look around,” she says, already veering toward a store. You barely have time to nod before she’s gone, pulling you along.

You step inside and already want to kill the dumbass that broke her vase yesterday. They aren’t lying when the statistic says that Sydney is one of the most expensive cities. The lights are too bright. The shelves are too clean. The prices, oh god the fucking prices. Yeah, they might as well be written in blood. You glance at a tag and feel your stomach churning.

“Take your time,” you croak, voice cracking just a little.

Asa doesn’t even pretend to hear the pain in it. “Oh, I will, baby. You’re the best.”

Well, at least she looks like she’s having fun. Fingers brushing over fabrics, pausing at mirrors, holding things up to herself with those cute light hums. You just stand a few steps behind her, smiling outside while shaking inside.

She lifts up a dress. “Baby, what do you think of this one?”

You ignore the tag. Swallow. “Looks great. I like the floral.”

“Really?” “Very. Spectacular, even.”

She smiles faintly and adds it to your arms. Then another. Then a third.

“Shoes?” She crouches before she even asks you.

“You already have—” You stop yourself. Clear your throat. “I mean, those would look really nice with the dress.”

“Which one?” You point at the more expensive pair without even checking.

She watches you for a second, then smirks. “Good answer.” And your arms (and your eyes) are starting to burn. Accessories come next. Sunglasses. A handbag she absolutely does not need but claims “feels right.” Every time she turns to you, eyes bright, asking, “This one or that one?” and you could only choose the pricier option. You don’t want to find out what happens otherwise. And by the time you reach the counter, you’re sweating. Profusely. More than the meme. Literally, you can see the number of zeroes all the way from where you are.

You stare at it in silence as the cashier hands it over with a polite smile that feels vaguely judgmental. Asa doesn’t look at the total. She just turns and walks away, completely trusting you to deal with the consequences (Wish she didn’t.) By the time you leave the store, your wallet feels lighter, yet your arms are full. Bags hang off your wrists, your elbows, one awkwardly hooked around your fingers. Asa, meanwhile, walks ahead of you, suitcase rolling smoothly behind her. She’s humming softly, mood visibly lighter, steps bouncier than they’ve been since the vase incident.

She glances back once, and finally slows herself down to walk backward in front of you. “Why are you so quiet?”

“Nothing…just like my wallet that is slowly draining away.”

She stops, then turns fully to face you. And she smiles, clearly amused and satisfied. “Aw, you’re so nice, my boyfriend.” she huffs. “You’re learning.”

You groan. “I swear I will run out of money before we reach the final day.”

She steps closer, fixes the strap of one bag slipping off your arm.

“Worth it,” she says lightly, then turns and keeps walking.

…Gosh damn it, she looks so cool.

Manly Beach is bright enough to hurt your eyes.

The sky is an aggressive blue, the kind that feels fake, like someone cranked the saturation up just to show off. Sunlight bounces off the water in blinding shards, waves rolling in with that steady, confident rhythm that makes the city behind you feel very far away.

Asa, somehow, looks like she belongs here. She’s already changed into her yellow swimsuit by the time you spread the towel out, hair tied up neatly, a few loose strands catching the light. Her skin glows—actually glows—and you have the very irrational thought that the sun is trying to compete with her and losing (Damn it, she looks so pretty.)

Before you can even sit down, she shoves her phone to you.

“Photos.” “We just got here.”

“Exactly.” She says. “Good lighting.”

“How many?” you ask, already standing.

She squints at you over her sunglasses. “Yes.”

You sigh, but take the phone.

And the next twenty minutes are pure labour. You crouch low in the sand. Stand back up. Take three steps back, then another two because “the angle’s weird.” You nearly get your shoes soaked when a wave rushes in unexpectedly (didn’t even have time to take it off, dang it).

“Careful,” Asa says, not even pretending to sound concerned.

“You’re the one making me walk into the ocean,” you mutter.

She poses like she’s been doing this her whole life. Chin tilted just right. One leg bent. Fingers brushing sand like it’s an accident. Looking over her shoulder with that soft and gentle expression that makes your chest tumbling in infatuation and love for no good reason.

She glances at you. “You’re too far left.”

“I am literally standing in the water.” “Shush, commit, and stop whining.”

You take another step back. The water laps at your ankles.

“This is how I die,” you tell her.

She smiles sweetly. “At least I’ll have good photos.”

“Fuck you, Asa-ya.”

“I might let you if you’re doing well. Now shut up and keep doing it.”

“Wait, hu–” “Don’t look into it.”

Click. Click. Click.

“More,” she says. “But more candid.”

You stare at her. “You are literally staring into the camera.”

“I can candidly stare.” “That’s not how—”

“Again.”

You lower the phone, drag a hand down your face, then lift it back up. You take more shots. From above. From below. From an angle that makes your knees ache. Finally, she walks over and snatches the phone back, sitting down on the towel while she scrolls. Her lips purse. Her brow furrows slightly. You stand there, waiting, like a student awaiting results.

“…This one’s cute,” she says eventually. You never knew your internal thoughts can scream so loud.

She rummages in her bag and pulls out the sunscreen, holding it out toward you without looking. You take it carefully like a loaded weapon.

“…Front or back?” you ask.

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Back first.”

You hesitate. “Okay. Just—tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”

She exhales, settling down in front of you. “Don’t rush. And don’t get distracted.”

“I won’t.” “And don’t look around.”

You swallow. “I’m not even blinking.”

She huffs, amused despite herself, and tilts her head slightly, giving you access to her shoulders. The sun beats down on both of you and the waves crashing softly in the background. You’re lathering sunscreen onto her back, not daring to miss any spot. Life is good.

Well, not so good when a flash of colour catches your eye. A group of girls walk past along the shoreline. Bright bikinis. Well-endowed. Laughing. With a carefree energy that made you involuntarily glance, and of course Asa notices.

“…What are you looking at, honey?” Her voice is low but stern enough to make your stomach drop.

“I wasn’t looking, I swear! I mean, I was looking at the water!”

Like the hell she would buy that lame excuse. You’d know. Look at how her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing over the top of her sunglasses. “The water doesn't— whatever, eyes on me. You understand?”

“Only you. Always you.”

She huffs and then mutters under her breath again, probably cursing you in Japanese though you can’t understand a word. Her hands come down sharply on your shoulder, enough to make you flinch. “Okay, okay!” You stammer. “I won’t look. Promise. You’re literally the only thing in my field of vision.”

Asa straightens and taps her foot on the towel, letting the tension linger for a second longer. Then, with a faint smirk that barely softens the scolding, she leans back all relaxed and cosy. “…Better,” she says, still eyeing you like a hawk and with a puffy cheek. “I’m watching. Don’t even think about it.”

You force yourself to focus, squeezing the sunscreen into her shoulders, trying not to glance anywhere else. And every time your brain wanders, every time your eyes flick even slightly, you catch her sharp gaze and remember exactly who you’re here for. And who really is the girl that lives rent free in your head 24/7.

And fucking hell, she’s hot.

Your wallet was on life support. But you can’t send the poor lad to the hospital when Asa’s eyes light up. Especially when the laminated menu lands on the table. To be fair, Shore Beach Club does look pretty with the whole outdoor décor on the rooftop, especially on a sunny day like this.

But you’d prefer to enjoy this moment without the doom (and the shattered vase) looming at the back of your head as Asa leans closer to read. “Wow, they have a lot of cute cocktails.”

“Uhuh, uhuh.” You squint at the prices.

“I will only get one drink.” Asa looks up at you with a smile far too sweet. And what the hell can you really say?

“…Go ahead, baby.”

An hour later, you are several drinks deep. Your table is crowded with empty glasses, nearly-finished seafood dishes (that you mostly eat to not waste it), and a receipt you are actively pretending doesn’t exist.

Asa? Your girl is having the time of her life. She’s giggling into her glass, head tipped back slightly, and cheeks warm both from the sun and the alcohol. It’s light and cute, the one that always makes your heart flutters. You’re so charmed by her, you didn’t notice how she steals a sip from your drink without asking.

“Ew.” “Ya, you literally picked that.”

“I ordered it for you.” She pushes it back to your side. “And damn it, why does it taste so funky?”

“You probably tasted the regret oozing from me.”

She laughs at you. ‘You’re so poetic today.“

"Whatever…” You shake your head as you watch her poke at a plate of grilled octopus.

“This is actually so good. Here, try this, baby.” She holds a fork out toward you. You lean forward and take the bite, barely registering the taste because she’s watching you so closely.

“…worth the bill.” You resign. And of course, she grins victoriously as she flags the server for another round.

By the time you two get back to the beach, the sun has begun to dip. The turns warm and golden, stretching long shadows across the sand. The beach starts to thin out, with families packing up, some surfers heading home, and the breezes picking up.

You’re about to plop to the sand and enjoy the afternoon wind (after that whole mess) then Asa suddenly tightens her grip around your wrist. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

She doesn’t answer. Just pulls you along, past the edge of the bar, down toward a quieter stretch of sand where the light is dimmer and the waves sound louder. The air feels cooler here, and more private. She stops abruptly and turns to face you. Up close, she still smiles, but there is a softer note on her now. Her eyes search your face, which lowkey scares the shit out of you. Who knows what else she can do this time?

“You behaved really well today.”

Well that definitely caught you off guard. “…I did?”

She nods. “You carried my bags. Took photos for me.” She pauses, licking her lips. “…and almost didn’t look at other girls.“

"I didn’t want to do that…” you mutter.

She ignores it. “Well, and you let me be mad at you.” That makes your chest tighten at how soft her voice is. “I really love that vase, you know? Your mom took a lot of time choosing it for us too.”

“I know. And I’m still sorry.”

“Let’s tell Mom and apologise together the next time we meet her, ok?” She slowly reaches to your hand and holds it, her thumbs gently swirling the palm. “Just so we don’t make her worry.”

“Will do, Asa-ya.” You smile. “I’m sorry again.”

She steps close enough that the faint scent of her coconut sunscreen and whatever cocktails that are still on her breath wraps around you. “I know you are,” Her fingers slide up your arm slowly until they curl around the back of your neck. “And you’ve been so good for me all day… following my words without complaining too much.”

Her thumb brushes your lips, pressing hard enough that you know it’s a cue to open it. And damn it, your pulse goes haywire at her touch. “So…I’m going to reward you now.”

“Reward?”

“Uhuh. Open your mouth for me, baby.”

“Eh? Why?” “J-just do it. I’m as embarrassed as you are.”

You don’t even think. You just do what she said — lips parting, tongue resting obediently against your bottom teeth. Asa leans in until her lips are dangerously close to yours while not breaking eye contact. Then you can hear how she audibly gathers saliva and builds those spits, letting it pool on her tongue long enough for you to see it until she spits straight into your waiting mouth.

Replay that again. She spits straight into your mouth.

And of course, you savour it, because why wouldn’t you? (It’s your girlfriend.) The taste of her, a sweet note from the cocktails, and the salty note from the air, meets your tongue. “Swallow.” And damn right you swallow on command and let out a low sound that is half groan, half surrender.

“Good boy.”

Before you can spit out anything to refute, her mouth is on yours, and you get to enjoy the full course.

It’s not gentle, that’s for sure. Her tongue pushes past your lips like she owns it, tangling with yours, and licking the lingering trace of her spit deeper. She kisses you filthy and slow, teeth grazing your bottom lip, and sucking lightly until you feel it throb. You kept gasping for air, but Asa makes sure to not let you with the relentless tongue action. One hand stays locked at the nape of your neck and holds you exactly where she wants you, while the other slips down to fist the front of your T-shirt.

You can taste everything, all the rum and pineapple and her, and it makes your head spin worse than the drinks ever did. She moans softly into your mouth, that damn pleased little hum that vibrates through you, and you answer it by your hands finally daring to settle on her hips.

She finally pulls back just far enough to speak against your swollen lips.

“See?” she breathes, voice husky while ignoring how red her own face has become. “This is what happens when you’re good for me.”

You’re breathing hard, dizzy, and aching in the most euphoric way possible. “I’ll be good forever if this is the reward.”

She giggles and nips your lower lip once more before stepping back, leaving you standing there wrecked in the fading light. “Well, aren’t you such a good boy for me.”

“Maybe I am if you stop being as red as a tomato.”

‘Stop ittt…” She buries her face straight to your chest and let out the cutest whine in the world.

Yep. You are so down bad for Enami Asa.