The bag of flour gave way to her tugging and a small cloud of disturbed white powder floated out of the small hole. Distracted for a moment, Yejin blew at the hovering particles before reaching for a measuring cup. The second her hand touched the plastic handle, she returned to his words, having kept them fresh in her mind. Her own lip trapped itself between her teeth, brows pressing together when he moved away. It were almost as if she could feel his words. They resonated within her chest, moving her. She understood how he felt. A pause was taken by her, eyes staring through the bag of flour and into a cyclone of her inner self, thoughts circulating at a rapid pace before settling down on one thing. Him. Yejin lifted her head and looked over her shoulder in his direction. Reaching back, she placed a warm hand behind his forearm and gave it a gentle tug back towards the table. She nodded to the bag of flour, silently asking for his help; determined to do something to boost his confidence.
“Sometimes I feel like that.” It was a lie. She felt it constantly, that need to be proud of ones accomplishments. “Compared to everyone else around me, I feel that I’ve done so little. But –,” she swiped her tongue over her lips, keeping her gaze focused on his, no matter how daunting it felt. “We all grow at different paces. Compare where you are now to where you were six years ago. Does that not have any impact on you?”
Mentally, he still seemed to be quite absent. A feeling of nothingness managing to leave a faint trace of itself within his gaze. During the uneventful time between them, he was left with only being able to revise the words he had just shared; torn between feeling proud of admitting to what he usually wouldn’t, and feeling the common burn of embarrassment that he was all too familiar with. The inner conflict proved to be rather strong, and distracting, based on his reaction to her touch; his body tensing as he suddenly snapped back to reality before gracing himself with a needed second or two, to comprehend the situation that their conversation had momentarily drowned out.
Once being offered the silent invitation (or more so, instruction), he complied, by returning to his previous mark at her side. Eyes quickly flitting to the bag of flour she had motioned her head towards, then followed by cautious hands. While she spoke, Jaewon settled for listening, in time with carrying out the short act of pouring powder into the measuring cup provided, wanting to be as careful as possible at first, though the flow of it had convinced him that being forceful was the only way to gain the amount closest to what she would need, and so, with a firm jolt, came an avalanche that had the level of flour resting just beneath the rim, as well as handfuls surrounding his target. "—Shit..." He whispered, now putting whatever words he'd have said initially (regarding their conversation) to rest, and proceeding instead to question what he presumed to be a mistake at his doing. "Is that too much?"
stormborns
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