(hey! i don't know if you'll ever see this but i was just wondering if you had any other rp accounts? i liked your writing and this character, no matter how brief the muse lasted--)
I see everything. •ᴥ• though i totally forgot i still had this account. I do have other rp accounts now. I recently came back to krp after a while, so I’m a bit rusty, but thank you for the compliments, lovely. Let me love you down. My day has be made, so you should let me cherish you. It’s always nice to see that someone has enjoyed anything I’ve created or written. Brief… Man, all the time. Now that I’m back on this account and I’ve gotten the chance to look through the blog again, I can’t help but want to bring her back. Oh, the feels. At the moment, I currently only have one muse who is up and running and that is Heejung. I’m also working on creating another muse, just because things are kind of slow on the other account. That is Jisun. But really… I might just scrap the second and come back here because I am suddenly so reminded of how much I loved this muse and I cannot remember why I left this account. And I know for sure it wasn’t because I lost interest. I don't know. I want to do it so bad.
44. Our muses are destined for each other after one lends the other a red scarf for warmth.
"Are you cold?"
The inquiry sounds close, yet she ignores it because the smoothness of the voice is not one that she recognizes. Neither does she expect a stranger to stop in their tracks to ask her such a trivial thing. Of course she is cold. That is the exact reason why her hand grips tightly around her collar to protect her neck from the steadily blowing frigid breeze. That is the exact reason why she is hastily strolling the streets, hurrying to get to the warm comfort of her home. Regardless, something tells her to turn around and when she does, she comes face-to-face with a stranger whose expression appears way too concerned to ignore. However, language fails her and she can only point idiotically at herself, eyebrows raised in question.
"Would you like my scarf?"
"N-No, thank you. I couldn’t take that from you. I’m fine. Promise."
Despite how persistent she tries to in order to politely deny his excessively kind offering, the male is already unwrapping the scarf from its place around his neck. The second the accessory is in his hands, her mouth opens immediately to further protest, but, surprisingly, a single look from the other silences her. Although she really does not want to take the scarf, she merely bows her head in acceptance, all the while muttering practically incoherently about being entirely grateful because there seems to be no more room for discussion between them.
Sojin does not receive a prompt response to her thanking, not even so much as a hum of acknowledgement. Instead, there is the light grip that lifts her chin upwards, her eyes no longer directed towards the ground. Incredibly still, she watches as the stranger leans forward to bundle the garment around her neck. He does this so carefully that she finds herself glancing down at his hands prior to gazing blankly with awe into his eyes. His fingers brush momentarily against the skin of her neck, cheeks, and underneath her chin while looping the scarf around her shoulders. And she is too busy relishing their closeness to care much about anything else.
"Don’t worry about it. I think it’d look much nicer on you anyway."
Scarlet blossoms across her cheeks and warms her skin until the delicate fabric of the scarf is no longer needed as a source of heat, but as a makeshift mask to disguise her overwhelming giddiness. Her chin ducks smoothly into the soft material and, with her cheeks revealing a renewed bashful mannerism, her face appears to almost blend into the vibrant redness laced loosely around her neck. Chocolate brown eyes shift and flicker quickly, never landing on the gentleman’s face for longer than the short span of a second before glancing away once more.
It takes her a moment to regain the ability to speak. Even so, she finds that her tongue is tied and her mind struggles quite a bit to piece together a string of words that actually make sense; no matter how jumbled the sounds are when they tumble swiftly from her smiling lips. “T-Thank you. I really appreciate your kindness.”
This time, his answer in given in the form of a hasty nod and a gentle press of his hand atop the messy, tangled strands of hair as he passes by. The touch renders her speechless and immobile, only able to watch the man disappear and merge into the progressing crowd. It isn’t until his figure is no longer able to be seen that she realizes how rapidly thunderous the beat of her heart is. Compared to the almost sickening fluttering feeling buried within her gut, she does not know which is more effective. Both have the ability to leave her positively weak in the knees, and hopelessly enchanted by something she does not quite understand fully yet.
Still, she does not bother to move from her location while she is so helplessly lost in her thoughts. Absentmindedly, small fingers entangle themselves between the frayed ends of the dangling scarf, occasionally caressing the cotton material with tender curiosity. She clenches her hand in it and brings it under her nose, breathes in a scent that her mind cannot apply a name to. But she likes it because it is calming, soothing in a way that only attaches itself with adoration. Then, the scarf is brought a few centimeters down and she presses her lips into it.
And the next time they meet, she will say, “Ever since the moment we first met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
"Since we’re standing here for a while longer. I’m going to take my time to ask, how are you and mind if I ask what you do for a living too?" It was only fair to keep topics and the conversation from flowing constantly instead of letting it die down entirely. At least that’s what the petite female assumed.
Sojin lets out a quiet sound of amusement, barely more than an abrupt snort, when she hears the female's response. She cannot say that she did not expect it, seeing as she was almost certain that anyone else would have abandoned the waiting process if put in the same situation as her. But she supposes that she is desperate. Most likely dangerously lacking in the department that harbors the joys of friendships that exceed more than two meetings. From the corner of her eye, she takes in the other's appearance, allows her mind to implode with hundreds of assumptions about this strange, yet extremely kind character. Before her inquisitive gaze can be met with possibly equal curiosity, her focus is once more concentrated on the uneventful scene straight ahead.
"Patience is a virtue," she answers with a singsong tone. "Or so I've always been told. Of course there is also the possibility that I've just gotten so accustomed to waiting that it doesn't really affect me anymore." The notion is something that she has never truly considered, but now that it hangs heavy in the air, the words still echoing in her mind, she feels slightly uneasy sharing the information with a mere acquaintance. Then again, her uneasiness may be derived from her buried embarrassment caused by appearing as such a helpless, pitiful case simply because she had been ditched by a friend. Her hand clenches tightly out of sight and she has to restrain herself from leaving without another word. In this world, she is supposed to be the bright, optimistic girl that everyone loves and cherishes; the one that effortlessly attracts everyone.
'Supposed' becomes a brilliant, illusive word. In this world, rather in this moment, Sojin is the girl no one has time for, the girl who seems so pathetic that a stranger decides to waste their time waiting alongside her for someone who will most likely never show. Sad, she knows, but her lips never quiver in their joyful upturn. Not even when Naeun's phone chimes and Sojin instantly glances down at her own with so much hope that her chest begins to ache when she realizes there are still no messages or missed calls to be shown on the device. Not even when she realizes that the notification sound was nowhere near close to her own, yet she still believed in useless miracles during that moment.
The other's questions startle her out of her thoughts and she snaps her head to fully examine the female standing idly beside her. Each inquiry is obviously an attempt at fueling the tiny flame of conversation currently lingering between them and she happily takes the bait, if only to allow the opportunity to learn more about one another. "I'm fine, I guess. Could be better, you know?" She pauses for a moment to consider whether or not she should be honest, whether there is a reason to lie. "Uh, I'm a blogger, vlogger, and aspiring idol. Nothing really interesting and nowhere near where I actually want to be. Unfortunately, I don't have an actual job at the moment. What about you? How are you feeling? What do you do for a living? "
Where do I even start? Do I have to? Is there some letter-writing manual that requires me to attempt reminiscing with you through words? Why am I even writing this letter? I asked myself the same thing yesterday. And some days before, and some days before that, and so on and so forth. I was never very good with words, was I? Nor was I any good at getting straight to the point. I bet you miss me being all indirect, right? At least, I hope you do. I’d like to think you still remember me. Probably not. I didn’t even say my name yet. I suck at writing letters to you and you only for some strange reason.
Do people still write letters? I wish I had your number. I’d just text you or something. Do you still live at the same address? I’m wasting my time.
It’s Sojin. Does my last name matter? Park Sojin. Sojin Park. The girl who used to sing on the streets and embarrass herself in front of you every single moment we spent together. You know, the girl who made you take her to the park and push her on the swings probably a million times. The girl who cried on your shoulder numerous times. The girl who totally fell in love with you and then decided to go back to South Korea at one point in time. The one who’s talking about herself in third-person right now. You most likely know me most as the girl who wanted so desperately to be famous and basically failed, though. Which is cool because it’s true. No hard feelings there, dude.
Sometimes I wake up and I think about what would have happened if I stayed in California. Are you still in California? What if I came back? Just for a moment though. Just to catch up with you and make sure you’re doing alright because I still worry about you at times. Honestly, I can’t tell you how many times I contemplated saving up enough money to see you again. But there’s too many possibilities of you no longer being where I left you. What’s it been now? I stopped counting the days. Sounds like some melodramatic movie about love. But we’ve moved past that.
I’m getting distracted again. I’m writing this letter to try and get in contact with you again. I miss you. I miss talking to you. I mean, we were like best friends, don’t you think? I used to confide in you a lot, but now I can’t. Well, not really, since I’m all the way across the ocean. It’s different here. Sometimes I constantly feel like I’m missing something. Probably because I don’t have any friends here. I don’t know what happened in the time I was away, but it seems like everyone has disappeared. I’m pretty lonely. I feel like a failure too. It’s even worse than what I described to you before I left. Like ten times worse. I’m gonna keep trying though. Definitely.
Do you still believe in me?
I wonder if you still l—
Everything displayed on the damaged pages is hastily written. The writing is unsteady, almost as if it were written by an unsteady hand. Around the crumbled, stained edges of the paper, the last words cut off abruptly, ink running sharp as if the utensil had scratched across the paper with force brought upon by anger. There is no signature at the bottom, the letter obviously being unfinished with no intentions of an actual end to the thoughts placed there. Yet, a feeling lingers in the words that leads to an assumption that may be correct; a reason as to why it does not continue. Another letter unfinished, unsent, meaningless.
I’ll generate a number from 1-77 (YES SEVENTY SEVEN OPTIONS!) to see what is in our muse’s destinies then I’ll write some drabble based on the number generated.
When the notification of a reply bipped, she looked at it a while, sipping from her cup. She didn’t know why she hesitated, but there she was, taking all the time to think before finally giving in. She clicked to read the few sentences in a screen. Her eyes half-disappeared as a wide smile spread on her lips. She read again the words and tilted her head.
“We are, I can only agree. The only failure is to give up, right ? There’s nothing to admire though. I just don’t know what to do else than what I’m already doing so. :/ I’m sorry to learn you’ve been feeling stressed.”
She took an abnormal moment to think, her heart pouncing. Exhaustion explaining why everything sounded to dramatic to her, she blamed also her tireness for the next words she typed.
"Just insomnia, an old friend of mine. I’m just asking, you can refuse but… Wanna meet ? I know a café which stays open all night. If you live in Seoul, of course. I mean since we have both nothing else to do."
It took her some more minutes before finally sending the message. At least, even though the other refused, she had tried and she wouldn’t hold grudges for a refusal, she wasn’t a teenager anymore.
A few minutes of typing, swiftly followed by a single click and she is once again left with nothing to do but wait. It is way too late to do much more than what she is doing now; not that she is supposed to be awake at such an ungodly hour. Nonetheless, she finds that she does not mind waiting in the darkness of her room, only able to see due to the brightness of her laptop's screen. There is her phone to act as a distraction for the small amount of waiting time between replies but she does not bother, does not glance in the general vicinity of the device despite the familiar buzzing sound of it vibrating that echoes through the quiet, signalling the arrival of a message that may or may not be important considering the time.
Completely true. That's always an uplifting thing to remember when things are getting tough. Don't worry about it. You may think you're at a lost at the moment, but you're really not. It'll pass. Stres—
Before she can finish typing the message, another reply pops up, this time much more surprising than the last. Regardless of how aware she is about how tired she will be in the morning (or the afternoon, which was the actual time she would most likely awake), Sojin can't help the instant interest that fills her when she reads the unexpected request to possibly meet up. Seeing as her exhaustion was beginning to wear away and fade into excitement, she has no objections to the suggestion. Just in case the other was considering retracting their proposition, she rushes to finish her next message and send it.
Stress is nothing compared to insomnia. I'd love to actually. Like you said, I don't have anything else to do, as embarrassing as it is to admit. We might as well get to know each other in person, right? Rather than through the barriers of computers. What's the address?
"You would break out of this tiny and tawdry theatre in which your own little plot is always played, and you would find yourself under a freer sky, in a street full of splendid strangers."
— G.K. Chesterton
sojin—
it’s mark. tuan. remember me?~ i’m writing this in english, so maybe that brings back (good/bad) memories, hahaa. anyway, i’m in seoul for a while! so we should meet up. if u want to. and if you have room in your busy schedule. it’s cool if you don’t want to or don’t have room. i just thought i should say hi, at least. dude, how come you never told me you got famous?
Too casual? Maybe. Probably. But it’s three am, so he can’t be bothered to fix it. Plus, one of Mark’s biggest personal goals this semester is to take chances. He hits send.
It's by chance that she decides to check her emails, often much too wary to sit down and waste hours of her time scrolling through tons of alerts to select the actual messages containing dealings with business and delete the ones from people who thought their reasons were important enough, even when they often weren't. Doing so constantly left her with guilt because those 'people' were her fans, whom she considered to be friends on some level. But it was something that had to be done in order to keep things—orderly. Not to mention the fact that there were always other options through which to contact her for simple conversation. So it must be fate when she happens to skip over one message in particular during the deletion process. And when she opens it, it becomes irritatingly obvious that the content does not meet the criteria for being saved, yet she reads it anyway.
Mark. That alone is familiar enough for the following of his last name to go unneeded. She has said it enough, wrote it enough, and most likely heard it enough to have it be forever imprinted in her mind for decades to come. Never mind the fact that the entire email (which is quite short and to the point compared to what she has always wanted to say) is written in English, a language only certain memories and individuals can be linked back to. He is right. The recollection of events she has is both moderately good and bad, though his name falls on the less worrisome side of happiness and positiveness; the only reasons she would ever think about when considering visiting the States again.
Unsure of what to do and still partially shocked by the unforeseen arrival of a chance to reconnect with someone she was once very close to, she stares blankly at the screen of her laptop, hands hovering uselessly above the keyboard. The mouse was abandoned, no longer needed with the cursor already blinking intimidatingly inside the reply box. Sojin forgets how many times her eyes scan over those same exact words in that same exact email, waiting for the words to morph into something completely different, much less friendly, from someone she will fail to recognize so effortlessly. She is vaguely aware of her time ticking away, time that could be spent practicing, making new videos, doing anything more productive than staring at a screen wondering how to reply to something that requires little to no brain-work.
M a r k,
She types each letter with such slowness that she wonders if she has forgotten how to spell, how to move her fingers smoothly across the keyboard without hesitancy. Or maybe it is just because it's him. The capital 'M' suddenly looks too serious, when she backspaces and replaces it with a lowercase version, it all becomes much to casual. Just 'Mark' was too simple. Something like 'Dear Mark' was much too complicated. 'Mark Tuan' makes things too businesslike. Her hands quickly withdraw and, for a moment, her heart flutters in her chest, filling her with nervousness that she knows should not be so overwhelming after so many years. It's not like she did not once imagine mindlessly searching the internet just to speak with him once more. And here is her chance without all the complications of trying to play detective.
hey! i do remember you. how could i ever forget? definitely brings back good memories i wouldn't mind experiencing again. haha. :) i'm glad to hear you're in seoul, though. even if it's only for a while. actually... i may be a bit excited, to be honest. after the whole trip to the u.s. for three whole years, i'm lacking in the friends department. believe it or not, i've been meaning to get in touch with you for a while now, but things have been crazy. we really should meet up. i promise i'm not nearly as busy as you think. plus, why wouldn't i have time for an old friend? you can just message me back with a time and a place and i'll be there. i missed you.
—p.s: not famous yet, just one step closer
One, two, three minutes fade quickly into thirty before she is able to muster up the courage to merely press send. Of course, prior to that, her time spent rereading what she has written is twice as much as the time she spent rereading the email sent to her. She checks for spelling, corrects any sentences that seem too uninterested or desperate. Still, however, immediately afterward, she has to try twice as hard to convince herself that whatever she wrote is in no way horrible and there is no use in attempting to retrieve it from whatever 'technology waves' it was currently surfing through to get to its destination. She also has to restrain herself from sending another message saying that she had sent it to the wrong person, though it is obvious who it is for. The worst possibility would be that they both never end up speaking again or something completely odd that most likely would not happen either way. After all, it is simply a message, nothing more than a few politely typed words in response to a friend.
Nodding in agreement to the latter’s comment. Well it was one or the other, mixed emotions so to say. Normally she’d wait an hour on her own, avoiding glances from every corner and shifting her feet from one side to the next. It’s quiet but it’s enjoyable, relaxing for the female even. Especially when she’s grown quite used to having to deal with most things by herself. Though some things change entirely.
"You’re very welcome." Words fell out softly and shortly, there’s a small hum in thought only to glance over her shoulder to focus her attention at the other. She murmurs the other’s name faintly for remembrance before lips were pressed lightly against one another to keep quiet. There was a bittersweet tone to the last statement not because of how she was keeping Sojin company but no one doesn’t exactly enjoy waiting on another.
Hands were resting on her sides, fingers plastered along the hipbones to dance around the fabric of her denim jeans. “Pleasure to meet you as well by the way. And I sincerely apologize that you have to wait on this certain other for a ride." Even if the sunlight was beaming down upon their porcelain skins, the weather was perfectly content for no one to complain like they did during winter including herself. She just assumed the latter didn’t live too far from the area. "I can always give you a ride back home. I know it’s not the best feeling to wait on and on.” Naeun had a gut instinct the other isn’t harmless, doesn’t seem like it appearance wise and the way she spoke kindly as well was another hint.
Kicking idly at a few stray pebbles scattered across the concrete with the scuffed tips of her sneakers, she listens intently to whatever the female has to say, though her gaze remains glued to the ground. If these actions are subconsciously out of embarrassment for the situation she is in, she is not aware of it. Occasionally, her eyes will flicker back and forth, left and right, searching for any hint of a car that may appear as though it will slow to a stop in front of them. But it’s not like any of that matters. Her mind holds onto the familiar image of the car her friend has been driving for quite some time, and she knows that despite her silent wishing, a new car would not arrive in its place.
"What should you apologize for?" she asks, huffing out a laugh that does not quite contain that usual hint of humor. "It’s not like you’re the one who invited me out and then forgot about me or something. It’s fine though. I’m not one to dwell on things like this. I’ll forget about it tomorrow." With a sigh, she leans back to rest her head against the sturdy, rough (and most likely dirty) brick of the wall behind her. She glances up at the sky and wonders briefly if nature is mocking her by being anything but dismal at this point. At least if there was some hint of bad weather in the air, them there would be an excuse for the absence of her companion, but without it, she was merely a pitiful case of uncaring behavior or forgetfulness. She was not yet sure which was worst.
However miserable she feels, even with the offer of a ride back to her home instead of having to trek back, some part of her still wishes to wait. A small part of her hopes that her friend will pull up soon, with an apologetic smile and a proper excuse. Then, she could wave goodbye to the kind soul beside her and leave behind any thoughts of humiliation. Yet she knows that possibility has a lower chance of happening than it raining with no clouds visible in the sky. "I couldn't ask you to do that. Just basking in your presence while I wait a bit longer is good enough for me. Plus, I'm almost sure I've ended up waiting longer than this before anyway. Maybe the end result will be me breaking a new record waiting. Or maybe just loitering."
