vldyeseul:
it’s like ripping a bandaid — the curiosity that had her on her toes, completely slashed and smothered by a simple two words of nothing happening. because yeseul’s life no longer revolves around becoming a ticking timebomb of a cliche rich girl gone bad trope, and responsibilities hitch her to the watchful eye of the higher-ups. and all she has left is vicarious living for a couple that never was, but once was inside her heart and soul.
but the couple resides in her imagination, and yeseul’s only left with the warm feeling of tipsiness grazing the surface of her skin — not the warmth from secondhand satisfaction. “you too? looks like you haven’t given off all hope yet.” and it’s the string that they throw, leaving yeseul to cling on instead of let go of dusty history. “come on, bandit. you could give me a bit more to go off of or do we have to down a few more bottles to get you to loosen up?”
a refill of the glasses, and clinks of the shot — motions that follow in monotonous motions. yeseul stops, fingers balancing the soju glass as her chin rests on the back of her palm. “i’ve got too much love in my heart to give. too much warmth, and people think i’m too cold. but you know what i think? everyone’s too sensitive and afraid to step on toes — why can’t we just say what we want and take it?”
Chuckling, Bandit shrugged and continued filling their shot glasses again as Yeseul suggested that more alcohol might cause them to loosen their tongue. Perhaps she wasn’t wrong. who knows what deep, dark secrets might blurt out after one too many shots of soju. Maybe they could finally discover some clarity about how they were really feeling regarding the Odum situation, because as much as they were sure they were confusing Yeseul, they likely felt twice as confused themself.
“You think you’re too warm and cuddly, and that’s why you’re single?” Bandit questioned in an almost condescending tone, raising their brow as they brought the shot glass to their lips, a sly smile around the rim as they threw the liquid back. It was at this point their throat began to feel numb, barely registering the drinks that continued to slide down the back of their throat.
“So, what do you want? What does Son Yeseul want to take, but is unable to?” They spoke as they haphazardly placed the shot glass down on their table, leaning back in their seat. Their arm was draped behind it, the back far too short to support their weight the way they’d like it to. Now with the alcohol settling in the pit of their stomach, their could feel their actions becoming sloppier, less inhibited. It was all they could do to sigh solemnly out of their nose as they waited for an answer.











