it’s a tale as old as time. boy meets girl. girl meets boy. boy asks girl out. girl doesn’t show up. in the more modern iteration, boy meets another girl not five minutes later. he thinks she’s pretty and nice and fun to talk to. she seems familiar, but boy is a romantic, and he thinks it’s just one of those things. friends from a past life, or lovers from long ago. boy forgets all about the first girl.
but then, this other girl says something she maybe shouldn’t have. maybe didn’t mean to. too specific, too suspicious. and boy is easily distracted by anything shiny and new, which is exactly why he notices the scratches on the surface. the dulled glitter of this supposedly new thing. like he’s looking at something behind the glass, wanting to buy it, but wondering if he already has it at home. maybe in a different color.
in the more modern iteration, boy and girl become co-workers for a few days. for a music video, where eyeliner’ed twenty-somethings in their prime sing some song hyun wrote about meeting girls at clubs and having their breath taken away. something like that. strobe lights, box sets, meaningless rented sports cars. at some point, he started going through life-changing experiences so often, his entire life just became fodder for dreamy reverb-doused club songs. and maybe someone at the end of the year will call this best-something, something-of-the-year. everyone and their mom will release a remix. it’s all noise to him. all in a day’s work. routine. boring.
so, really, she’s his only hope. a beacon of light. the shiny thing he’s still not sure he already has. it’s not that he accosts her, just that he makes conversation and asks questions and makes jokes that might mean something else. if they mean something else, only she knows. it’s that this is a dance, and the beat he made for the song is immaculate. it’s just that the longer they keep going, the funnier it gets. and he likes to laugh, even at the expense of others.
on the last day, he still can’t quite figure out whether arisa and mirae are the same person. he thinks, how could they not be? he remembers what mirae looked like in her pictures and the way she talked and he thinks, how could they be? everyone’s slowly packing up, and there’s nothing left for him to do. he should go home. he should let this go. he shouldn’t deliberately stand in her way so she bumps into him. shouldn’t smile all friendly and say, “no, sorry, i was in your way.” shouldn’t walk to the other end of the rack and say, “let me help you.”
he pushes when she pulls.
“i loved that blue velvet route des garden biker from the parking lot scene,” he says, all fodder. because the longer this goes on, the funnier it gets. there’s always a smile playing in the very corner of his mouth. “are you guys working with us again for the next video? around october, i think.”
god, was was that saying? knees weak, arms spaghetti or whatever ⏤ she’s understanding it now more than ever, thankful for the fact that there’s something to do to keep her hands busy, to persevere by distraction. because his smile is always gradual and knowing, triggering a prickling upon her skin that makes her want to bolt out of the nearest exit. the tone is nothing but breezy, the same intonation as if he were reading a manual, but with every question she can feel the heat of the bright light focusing on her skin, can perceive hyun trying to compel the answers out of her in an abstract manner ⏤ why did you show up on the night of the party? were you really the girl i’ve been talking to? she knows he knows. she’s sure that he knows that she knows, but enjoys the entertainment in watching their prey squirm.
( arisa loves doing the same. but it’s one hundred percent not fair and totally wrong when people apply that back to her. the audacity. )
“no⏤” you don’t have to is what tries to follow, but the pitchy voice crack surprises even herself, features in a cringe because how in god’s name is she even supposed to explain that. but arisa is a trooper, still sticks to her losing story as knees bend, back hunching while her focus remains on picking up the designer labels off the floor, auburn locks shielding her face in some form of respite, “i’m fine. i think ... they may need help over there with like, lighting? stage stuff, putting that up because you’re like, a strong man and stuff. i’m fine, totally fine!” because maybe if she says it enough, it will come true. ( note: sarcasm ) arisa finds herself just as rambly as she was during the ending of their last encounter, hands palming the details of the tops and outerwear one too many times, and it’s not helping to build her case. she’s a better actress than this, usually. “sorry, it’s just ... been a long couple of days.” there’s a sigh that follows, hoping that would be convincing enough.
hyun’s mentioning something about the jackets the group wore and it’s enough for her face to flit towards his, tossing her hair out of the way to beam with a little sense of pride, “i picked those out last minute. and they would have looked better if one of them didn’t break the zipper ...” and for a second their situation isn’t on the forefront of her mind, almost forgotten as her memory goes over the elegance it would have gave with the jackets closed; due to that they to open them and make a bit of a wardrobe change. arisa’s eyes come back to him with the second question while she makes herself busy reorganizing the rack to keep from fidgeting, shaking her head, “no, uh ... she might? my friend, the main stylist, i mean. i don’t do this normally, i was just helping her out. this isn’t my main job, so uh ... this’ll be the first and last time you’ll be seeing me, sorry!” and she shouldn’t have put a little more vigor at the end of her sentence, but it comes out anyway, words unconsciously rushing.
