urianius:
in another life, she would have been envious of that. but in this one, she’s just glad to see her best friend. “minsik and jaewook are busy at the office so they couldn’t join but — “ she settles down across from siyeon, her smile morphing into something along the lines of a smirk. “ — i’d say it’s about time we girls have some time to ourselves, huh?”
constants don’t exist in her life.
her childhood is best defined by bouncing from place to place, never settling down long enough to put roots anywhere. she used to think the transience was normal. later, when she realized it wasn’t, she convinced herself that a lifetime of adventure is a good thing, that ultimately, she’s lucky to be able to live the way she does, free and unencumbered by any kind of attachments or anchors.
and yet—
lucky, sure, but a part of her still wants something steady in her life, even if it’s just a place to come home to. jihae might be a person and not a place, but she’s the closest thing siyeon has to a harbour—with her, siyeon feels like she can lay her head down and just rest. it’s a lot to leave at someone’s feet, so she’s never said as much out loud, but, well, jihae has to know. siyeon doesn’t bother keeping it a secret; she wears her affection on her sleeve, laid bare for everyone to see.
her eyes sparkle as she leans forward at jihae’s words. “something for little ‘ole me?” siyeon lets out a contented, breathy sigh, hands clasped in front of her chest. “you’re too good to me, jihae.” it’s always a novel feeling to be on the receiving end of jihae’s care, maybe because siyeon isn’t used to it. she accepts it all with open, greedy arms, ready to take whatever jihae sees fit to give. “i can’t wait to dig in. you make the best food, you know?” she continues, accepting the chopsticks from her outstretched hand.
she’s desperate to tear off the lid and devour the contents, but siyeon isn’t a complete animal. or, not a complete animal in public for the sake of preserving her friend’s reputation.she feels like she shows admirable restraint while opening the lunchbox and taking her first bite, but all decorum flies out the window as siyeon swallows and lets out a low moan. “gods, much better than convenience store ramen.” much, much better than the pathetic excuse for meals she’s been eating at home. she doesn’t know how jihae does it—infuses every single bite with so much care.
(maybe home isn’t a place or a person, but a lunchbox lovingly made and offered.)
siyeon pauses with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth as jihae mentions the other two members of their little group, a devilish grin spreading across her face. “even if minsik and jaewook weren’t busy, i wouldn’t share you with them,” she says seriously. “they can wait their turn at the back of the line.” she loves her friends, but it’s nice to keep jihae to herself sometimes. “gods know they have their boys’ nights or whatever often enough,” she adds, with a roll of her eyes. “besides, i feel like they’d try to steal from my lunchbox, and i don’t really want to commit chopstick murder in broad daylight.”
