étais, suis, serai

dans le vent, à la mer s’en sont toutes allées

[passiflor]

// i hope that you don't take this the wrong way, but i feel like your writing has really improved since you've returned. welcome back to the dash!

( oh omg thank you?? i’m actually not too fond of my writing at the moment, so i really appreciate the kind words <3 

[passiflor]

things you said that i wish you hadn't

drabble for @deadbones, from xstatus: 2/4, still acceptingnotes: i literally saw you two days ago i have nothing more to say to u loser

chungwoon bookstore is closed to the public once again at the late, late hour of 1 pm, its blinds still wide open and the sound of tchaikovsky’s 1812 overture coming from the inside. yes, there in the back, curled up on opposite sides of a sofa, are san and sua with a book in one hand and a coffee in the other. muted light filters through the slats of the flimsy bilnds covering the windows, and the shadows of passersby flit over them briefly as they walk by. san has an awful habit of closing the store whenever sua comes by to visit, and sua only enables this behavior by making a point of visiting whenever she has time. she likes it when he hums the tune of an old russian song she’ll never know, flips the sign in the window to say “CLOSED,” and just talks to her, his speech unraveling to reveal the heavy lilt of his accent as he gets tangled in the threads of a long and winding story.

it’s today, of all days, that sua looks up from her book and takes in her surroundings. she’s grown to love this little mess of a shop and the big mess that owns it. both have been along far longer than she, and through the decades, they’ve probably seen days just like this one— where the pale grey light peeks through the sheets of clouds  and the sound of violins fills the room and san sinks into his side of the sofa with a book and a drink. maybe someone else used to keep him quiet company just like she does now. maybe, when she’s finally left the earth, he’ll find someone else to fill her spot. the thought that someday, someday soon, she won’t be around to be a part of this scene anymore makes her a little sad.

“oppa, we were really happy, right? we had a lot of fun together, right?” she says out of nowhere, breaking the silence.

san hums and sets down his cup. “of course.” he stops, looks up at her over the rim of his wire glasses, and curls the corner of his page over his finger absently. “wait. why are you saying that in past tense?”

sua purses her lips and pretends to be fascinated by the pills of yarn stuck to her knit sweater, picking them off and flicking them onto the worn, wooden floors.

“you never know when you might have to start using past tense when you talk about me. might as well get used to it now.”

san flicks his book shut, the heavy cover slamming down with a muffled clap. “stop saying things like that.”

“it’s true,” she replies, ignoring him. she can’t quite bring herself to look at his face.

he furrows his brows and sighs. “what’s wrong with you today?”

what’s wrong with her is that she’s so, so tired. she’s tired of being tired. she’s tired because sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating and crying and running to the bathroom to throw up what little she’d had to eat that day. because sometimes she tries to teach simple choreography to her girls during class and she can’t do a single spin without having to grip the wall for support as the room swirls around her. because sometimes it feels like every nerve in her body is on fire and there’s no way to put it out, so she lies in bed, scorching from the inside out and screaming into her pillow so she won’t get a noise complaint from her neighbors.

“nothing,” she spits. “just dying.”

he recoils as if she’s bared fangs at him. she knows that if there’s one thing san doesn’t understand, if there’s one thing he’s afraid of, it’s death. she knows he tries his best to tread lightly on this topic around her, but sometimes, she feels like it’s more to repress his memories of loss. he doesn’t like it when she says she’s scared of dying because he couldn’t do anything to help take away the fear of the people that he lost before, and he can’t help her now.

she’s tired of that, too. she wants to be a little selfish. she wants to be able to be afraid and tell him so.

“you can’t just pretend i’m not,” she presses on, her tone cold and hard and a little bit cruel. it’s so much easier to do this now, to talk about dying without breaking down. “everyone dies. you know that better than me. is that why you keep telling me i’m going to live? because you’re sick of seeing people die? well, sometimes i’m sick of being alive. and it’s not tragic and beautiful to fight to stay alive every day. i know you keep ignoring it because you’re scared but—"

“stop it!” he’s on his feet now, the veins in his neck protruding. she’s never heard him raise his voice at her like this before; he really does look terrified. she wonders who he’s thinking about right now, wonders what the faces flashing through his mind look like.

and slowly, she looks up at him, her eyes too wide for her gaunt face, and feels the corners of her mouth crumple.

“why are you yelling at me? i’m scared too.“

[passiflor]

things you said when i was crying

drabble for @3012v, from xstatus: ¼, still acceptingnotes: 2016년에 레몬님이 태형이의 생일기념으로 써주신 글의 2편?으로 써봤어요 ㅠ 한글로 글쓴지 너무 오래되서 대사만… 양해 부탁드립니다… 레몬느님 사랑합니다…

the sun hangs low in the seoul sky, glowing like an ember amidst the smoky purple clouds as the horizon swallows it whole. sua tugs her parka firmly around her torso, shuddering against the unforgiving january wind. it’s been nearly three years since sua’s returned to seoul, and in those two years, she’s never quite learned to deal with the freezing walk from the ballet to the subway station in the wintertime.

there’s a park that she always walks through on her way to and from the subway, a long stretch of land beautiful in its own right throughout the seasons. in the winter, the whole park is frosted with glassy ice and fluffy, white snow, like a scene from a snow globe. she’s usually the only person trudging through the slushy snow on the pavement and leaving little footprints in the frosty grass, but today is different. not so far away, a boy sits on a small wooden bench, looking up at the golden sky as if waiting for something to happen. she registers his side profile as vaguely familiar.

he reminds her of paris, of running through spring rain, of a bouquet of baby’s breath crushed to her chest after a performance. she recalls the flavor of the strawberry cake that melted in her mouth, and the sound of laughter that made her smile too. kim taehyung.

“저기요, 혹시 김태형..?” she asks timidly, her voice fading into nothingness as she approaches the boy. he looks at her half-lidded, the ruby light of sunset lighting up his features. it’s taehyung. he looks older, somewhat. he still has a boyish look about him, but the way he carries himself feels different now.

“수아누나?”

“와, 정말 너였네!” she gasps, a grin stretching from ear to ear. she grabs his hands, swinging them excitedly. “와, 진~짜 오랜만이다. 몇년만이냐? 잘지냈지? 학교는 다니니? 나 다음주에 공연있는데, 올래? 아, 너 아직 발레에 관심 있을려나?”

taehyung can’t do anything but laugh as sua barrages him with endless questions. there is so much that she wants to ask him, so much that she’s still curious about, but she settles on one last question as she sits down next to him.

“밖에 추운데 쓸쓸맞게 뭐하냐?” it’s a genuine question, and the one she’s most curious about; she never sees anyone just sitting around in the park in the dead of winter.

“아, 뭐, 그냥…” he looks down at the pavement, shrugging as he toes a piece of ice aside.

“야, 근데, 나 한국 돌아와서 너 엄청 많이 찾았는데! 내가 너 연락한다고 했잖아,” she says with a frown.

“나 찾았어요?” his eyes are bright with something that sua can’t quite put her eyes on, something equal parts melancholy and overly grateful. it makes her want to cry, just a little bit.

“으이구, 그래. 아무리 찾아봐도 없길레 난 네가 또 여행간줄 알았네,” she laughs, elbowing him playfully.

“헤헤.”

as the conversation tapers off, sua breathes hot air onto her numb hands, watching as the white fog of her breath momentarily obscures taehyung’s features. it’s only then that she really takes in the sight of taehyung’s nose and cheeks, bitten red by an hour too many out in the cold.

“그런데 너 지금까지 여기 혼자 앉아있었니?”

he laughs softly, a single breath puffing out into the frigid air.

“뭐, 항상 혼자죠.” he pauses. then, sotto voce as he looks into his lap, “보고싶었어요, 누나.”

“…너 우니?”

“아니거든요!” he mumbles sulkily, glancing up at her with teary eyes. she recognizes that look on his face. it’s the look of abject loneliness; she knows because she used to see it in the mirror when taehyung left paris. she doesn’t like seeing it on someone as bright as the sun itself.

“미안해.” is the only thing she can offer to him as solace. she wraps her arms around him so his head rests against the crook of her neck. something inside him must give way, because he’s clutching fistfuls of her coat in his hands and his lean frame shakes as he sniffles quietly.

she thinks she knows. what it’s like to be so lonely, that is. what it’s like to be lost and found.

“미안해, 태형아.” 더 빨리 못찾아서. 널 혼자 내버려둬서. “누나가 미안해.”

[eversncenewyork]

send me a ship and one of these and i'll write a mini fic

things you said at 1 am

things you said through your teeth

things you said too quietly

things you said over the phone

things you didn’t say at all

things you said under the stars and in the grass

things you said while we were driving

things you said when you were crying

things you said when i was crying

things you said that made me feel like shit

things you said when you were drunk

things you said when you thought i was asleep

things you said at the kitchen table

things you said after you kissed me

things you said with too many miles between us

things you said with no space between us

things you said that i wish you hadnt

things you said when you were scared

things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

things you said when we were on top of the world

things you said after it was over

things you said [make your own]

inspired by this

[passiflor]

one year later—

[deadbones]

pietà. bleeding fingers clawing at their marble idols.

based on the picture of dorian gray.

[passiflor]

guess who’s back, back again?

yooj is back, tell a friend!

it’s been over a year, wow. i never deleted this blog because i knew i was going to come back to sua someday. SO HERE I AM! sorry it’s been so difficult to reach me, i missed you guys a lot <3

[crookedflesharchive]

☀!

( @passiflor / source: here / status: not accepting! ) 

A CANVAS OF pale flesh, practically calling out to be blessed with bruises of his own making. This was his first thought upon first glance of her. He imagined holding her hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail (much like he had for his sister in the past), only so he could sneak a peek at the back of her neck. Dark hair, plump, bee stung lips, eyes that told a story, all of Moonsik’s weaknesses wrapped up in a single form.

It didn’t take much for him to become fixated, for lust to crawl over his entirety. Gaze lingered for a few moments too long, clinging to all her edges, edges he wished to be his momentarily. Women never amounted to much in his eyes, but he’d be damned, if they weren’t nice to look at and hold occasionally. Moonsik could easily imagine his tight grip on her hips, fingernails digging into the skin, his nose pressed to her pulse, feminine scent (flowers ― they always smelled of flowers, like his mother) overwhelming.

Disgusting.

Want made him feel closer to human, closer to being weak. Yet he fell for it every time, succumbed to physical pleasures more often than not. It was all that kept him stitched together. Though when he approached her finally, he was nothing but gentle. Actions were akin to someone he had never met, rather than the personified thorn he really was. The pricking would come later.

Too bad he could never contain himself, never keep a hold on the false image, which contained the beast within. His hands practically swallowed her own, thumbs pressing to her palms, relishing in their pillow softness. A moan crept to the back of his teeth to forcibly be pushed back down again.

Soon.

A question burned inside him. Or maybe it was the three drinks he had already.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, he leaned in, lips ghosting against the base of her neck. “Have you ever had sex?” The answer itself didn’t matter. It never did. He was simply looking for a path, a way to reveal his intentions without explicitly stating his own want.

Eventually, this would become par for them. Neither of them dabbled in emotions, just what their bodies allowed to speak for them, while he kept her happy with what he could: money and material goods. Moonsik would be pleased to find out that she bruised with a mere touch, her canvas always black and blue after spending time with him.

[ahn-f]

[whitelai]

                                   oc. selective.  // guidelines. profile. bio. // follow & reblog.

[passiflor]

whitelai:

( & july. ) 12월의 칼바람은 딱 죽을만큼 매서웠다. 와, 집 없는 사람은 어떻게 살라고. 하느님도 참 매정하시지. 바삭한 나뭇잎 가득한 길바닥을 차며 들을 이 없는 불평들을 홀로 호소했다. 정수는 해원이랑 볼일이 있다며 비하만 추위에 덩그러니 냅두고 일찍 자취를 감췄고, 형들도 딱 그 정도였다. 의리는 무슨 개뿔. 근처에 가끔 들리는 캠퍼스는 지갑이나 핸드폰 따위를 훔치러 오는 곳인데, 오늘은 이래저래 추위도 피할 겸 사람 구경이나 하러 오는 꼴이 됐다. 춤전공하는 여자애들은 단아하니 예쁘기도 하고. 굳이 불평하자면 학교 안에 서 있는 그의 존재가 자체가 대조랄까. 따사한 분위기 자체가 비하를 내쫒는듯 했다. 발랄하게 웃는 여학생들, 단정히 옷고름을 다듬으며 지나가는 교수들, 지나치게 맑은 분위기와 조곤조곤한 말투들, 가식적인 온화함.

와, 구역질나. 속은 다 다를꺼면서. 

어떻게 저렇게 단체로 웃음꽃을 피우고 다닐수있는지. 삐죽한 눈초리로 구부정히 앉아 지나가는 이들을 주시 하다, 이내 단물 떨어진 껌을 뱉는 아이처럼 홱하니 돌아선다. 발걸음은 옮기지 못했다. 그가 그러길 기다렸다는 듯 고운 목소리가 이름 석자를 읊는데, 머리가 딩, 하고 울리더니 이내 멍해졌다. 이게 참 뭐 같은게, 기억을 스스로 지웠다고 해서 물리적 감각이 마냥 아, 예, 그럼 전 이만 사라져드리겠습니다, 하고 제 갈 길을 가는게 아니였다. 그래도 그녀에 대한 세세한것이 떠오르지는 않는게, 사람이 잊고 싶은 기억은 또 그만큼이나 빨리 지워지나보다. 굳이 옛날 추억 같은거 곱씹으며 하하 호호 하기는 커녕 돼새기고 싶지도 않지만. 얼룩 하나 없이 뽀얀 얼굴에, 흐트러짐 없는 단정한 모습. 목울대가 뜨거워지더니, 이내 턱 하고 막힌다.

무슨 이야기를 했었을까? 웃었을까? 그랬겠지. 두 손도 단정 했겠지. 그렇게 배웠으니깐.

“난 그런 사람 모르는데.” 기억하기 싫은 파편들이 꾸역 꾸역 머리를 비집고 들어오더니, 이내 메스꺼울 정도록 비위가 상했다. 부러 태연한척 미소를 지어보이고는 마저 대꾸했다. “아, 아님 지금 나한테  작업 거는건가? 뭐… 그 쪽 베프 이상인것도 좋은데, 난.”

세월이 흐르면서 사람의 자채가 변하게 되있다. 어린이들은 겪어보는 일마다, 들리는 말마다 어른이 될때까지 변화를 품게 된다. 이 초기 단계가 성숙해진 모습으로 비춰지고, 또한 초기 단계에 가장 가까운 친구들을 만난다. 안타깝게도, 수아는 파리로 떠나서 소꿉친구라고 부를수있는 사람들이 많지는 않았다. 그나마 기억에 남았던 친구가 있었다. 윤비하. 이쁜 눈웃음과 장난스러운 성격을 갔고있는 아이는 수아가 가장 아끼는 동생중에 하나였다. 오지랍 떨고 싶지는 않았는데, 친구의 안부가 궁금했다.

수아 앞에있는 남자는 기억속에 사는 비하랑 너무나 비슷하게 생겼다. 이제는 수아보다 키도 더 크고, 머리카락도 예쁘게 염색하며 첫눈에 못아라볼 정도로 바꼈다. 비록 십년 넘게 지나도 얼굴에는 아기 비하의 흔적들이 세밀하게 남아있었다. 많이 컸네, 윤비하. 그러나 흐뭇한 누나의 마음도 잠깐이였다. “난 그런 사람 모르는데.”

“아.. 그렇군요. 죄송해요, 제 친구랑 너무 닮아서요. 못본지 오래되서 저도 몰래 흥분했네요, 하하. 근데, 정말 도플갱어 같은거 있죠?”

괸히 섭섭한 마음이 들었다. 이분이 아니라면 아닌데, 굳히 그리운 마음 때문에 계속 비하라고 차각하고 싶었다. 모든것들은 운명적인 가치가 있다고 생각하는 수아에게는 우연이란 개념이 참 신기했다. 우연히 한번 붇히치고 스쳐지나갈 인연들이 있고, 평생 볼 사람들도있고, 거기에 또 해어지고 다시 만나는 인연들이 있었다. 사람들은 자기들이 제어할수없는 방식들로 서로를 만나고, 또 다시 만나게 되어있다. 오늘은 신이 정해선지, 바람이 얼떨결 수아를 이쪽으로 불어와선지 몰라도, 오랜만에 어릴적 추억을 떠올리게 되서 기분이 좋았다. 이분이 비하가 아니라도, 오늘의 만남으로 인해서 비하를 한번 찾아서 만나야겠다는 생각이 들었다.

볼이 빨게지면서 고개를 절레절레 흔들었다. “어– 작업 거는거 아니에요!” 그쪽이 그렇게 생각할만 했겠지만… “재미있네요. 제 친구 비하가 아니라고 쳐요. 그러면 이름이 뭐에요?”

[passiflor]

tracker for 01.05.17

hello i still owe things from last year [insert annoying laughter here]

okay actually though some of my replies have been sitting in my drafts for a really long time and im.. clenches fists... gonna do them i swear 

my apologies to the following people:

threads: @whitelai (kr), @muertev, @3012v (kr), @virulentism, @inwolvesteeth, @nefariousen, @lachrymals, @taekef

memes: @hidenite (bc u sent me like 7 of them) (to be fair, i did tell you to), @hyejvng, @clementide, @revisere, @nefariousen, @3012v

let me know if i didn’t add you!!

[crookedflesharchive]

DESPITE MY GHOULISH REPUTATION, I REALLY HAVE THE HEART OF A SMALL BOY. I KEEP IT IN A JAR ON MY DESK.

[passiflor]

muse aesthetics.

tagged by: @sicheung​ (thank you!) tagging: @3012v (u got it, babe ♡)

bold which ones apply to your muse. 
italicize what they like. 
remember to post and not reblog. 
feel free to add to the list!

fire. ice. water. air. earth. claws. fangs. wings. gold. diamonds. grass. leaves. trees. roses. metal. iron. rust. rain. snow. lace. silk. cotton. sun. moon. stars. blood. dirt. mud. silver. steel. sugar. salt. lavender. glass. wood. paper. wool. fur. smoke. ash. ocean. bruise. scar. wind. spices. light. dark. paint. charcoal. wine. hard liquor. sweat. dust. bare feet. canine. feline. coffee. tea. books. scratches. petals. thorns. hay. glitter. heat. cold. steam. frost. candle. sword. spear. dagger. staff. arrow. hammer. shield. spikes. sand. rocks. roots. feathers. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. herbs. waves. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. clay. stone. brick. lions. wolves.

[passiflor]

hidenite:

hide is late ( no surprise there ), but his date is even later. some intern working at his mom’s firm, he thinks, or was it the girl he picked up from the motor show? either way, it’s thirty odd minutes past the meeting time and she’s still not here. usually hide’s the later one but it seems lord satan has plans for him this time.

he catches a glimpse of a familiar face when he peeks into the restaurant through the glass window, but it’s the girl sitting opposite that has his lips curving to a wicked grin. a few moments later, he’s strolling towards their table. it’s a two-seater, but fret not – he grabs a chair from the empty table next to them and moves it their table. ta-da, it’s now a three-seater.

a waitress rushes over, presumably to tell him he can’t do that bla bla bla so hide immediately shuts her up with a two ₩50,000 notes shoved into her hands. “get me a macallan neat double aaand… whatever she’s having,” he gestures with a tilt his head in jieun’s direction, completely disregarding any of the reactions he’s getting. the waitress, flustered, stares at the two girls for some kind of cue and that only gets on hide’s nerves. “get me the manager as well if you’re just going to stand there. staring at them is my job.”

sua beams at jieun, happy to hear her positive response. she’s never been the best at picking up on tiny cues, after all. “eh, spaghetti is all the same wherever you go,” she shrugs. “it’s a little boring, but i’ll order some wine now!” she raises one hand delicately (a little self-consciously), and someone traipses up to their table. 

she assumes it’s a waiter... until said individual sits down right in between her and jieun. turning her head to face the stranger, sua’s features twist into a displeased scowl as she realizes that they’re neither a waiter nor a stranger. it’s hide. she’s relieved when a maître d’hotel comes to shoo him away, but then she catches a flash of golden bills between hasty hands. if it was possible for sua to roll her eyes any harder, she’s certain she’d strain a muscle or something. 

hide orders, as brazen as ever, and sua’s mouth falls open slightly. sometimes, she wonders if he really has nothing better to do than go around terrorizing the citizens of seoul. then she remembers; he really doesn’t. rich kids are a menace to modern society. at hide’s last remark, the waitress scurries away, throwing one last apprehensive glance over her shoulder.

“what the fuck,” sua says lowly, not wanting to attract any more attention. “are you doing here?”

[passiflor]

for @clementide. now we finally hav a thread :^)

sua’s always looking for an excuse to get all prettied up and indulge her expensive taste, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that when jieun lets her choose the location for their next dinner out, she chooses a fancy, horribly overpriced restaurant in downtown seoul. it’s a trendy, sophisticated eatery, which means they just get half the portions of a regular restaurant for double the price. thus is the pain of the upper class.

sua’s fork twirls around creamy spaghetti noodles absentmindedly as she watches jieun eat across from her. she’s trying to gauge her reaction; if jieun likes it, then sua has an excuse to come here often. 

“how is it? do you wanna get some wine?”

she’s mostly asking for herself, but it’s always polite to ask pretty girls if they want a drink.

[passiflor]

23:59

a drabble for @clementide because we still don’t have a thread but jia is all that matters

december 31, 2016. sua prepares to bid farewell to a bittersweet year.

it’s been a long 365 days. she’s exhausted, both physically and emotionally. some mornings, she wakes up and the pain in her body makes her jaw clench and burning tears roll down her pale cheeks. some mornings, she can’t get down the stairs without feeling faint. she’s lost her passion, her dream role, her boyfriend— all in the span of a year. all things considered, 2016′s been pretty fucking awful.

it’s been worth living through, though. every day she wakes up, she thanks god and finds it in herself to get out of bed. when her fingers tighten around the stairway banister, she forces herself to keep moving down the steps. while her body deteriorates, sua, at her essence, has become stronger; not by choice, but by necessity. falling from the stars, though, gives her time to breathe for once. giving up ballet meant that sua had more time on her hands than she knew what to do with. of course, she wasn’t unemployed, but god, being an artistic director was so much easier than spending every waking hour in the practice room. she hadn’t realized how much time ballet took up in her life; it consumed her, controlled her, and now that she had to stop, there were so many things that she could choose to do.

so she decides to spend the last day of this terrible year with jieun.

sua’s living room table is covered with the remnants of their girls’ night in. bags of shrimp chips and onion rings litter the table, with nothing left inside but crumbs. a pot of half-eaten ramen sits amidst the colorful foil packaging, the noodles bloated and cold. empty boxes of fried chicken lie sideways on the floor. there are bottles of expensive wine and champagne next to sua. jieun thinks it’s ridiculous that sua won’t just drink soju or beer like a normal person. sua likes to imagine that it’s only because she has refined taste. 

jieun, the smaller of the two, stretches out on the couch horizontally and rests her calves on sua’s lap. they both have their long hair pulled back into ponytails and face masks obscure their features. (”sua, the face masks aren’t gonna do anything if we stuff our faces with food that’s going to make us break out.” “um, preventative measures, obviously.”)

the annual mbc new year’s special is on tv, and as corny as it may be, they’re both tuned in and watching eagerly for the countdown. but bad jokes and mediocre performances can only entertain the girls for so long, and sua changes the conversation to something a little more interesting.

“jiji.” she’s dropped the honorifics a long time ago. at this point, it’s funny to think of the other girl as ‘jieun unnie’ and not just jiji. “how’s that thing with your boy toy going?”

jieun pouts, raising one unimpressed eyebrow at sua. “he’s not.. my boy toy!” hugging a pillow, she sighs resignedly and waves her hand. “i haven’t really.. done anything about it. still single. that’s why i’m spending new year’s with you, right?”

“rude. you’d be spending new year’s with me either way,” sua says, popping a shrimp chip into her mouth. “who else would you kiss at midnight?”

“what?”

sua makes a kissy face at her, and jieun playfully lifts a leg as if to kick the silly expression off her face.

she checks her phone. one minute before midnight.

“ji! sit up, sit up, it’s 11:59,” sua says, shaking the older girl’s legs.

the MCs grin widely. “we hope you’re all next to your midnight kiss, because 2017 is almost here!”

“hey,” jieun says, pushing herself up into a sitting position. she crosses her legs and takes off her face mask. “you’re still single, right?”

sua rolls her eyes and peels the mask off of her face. “are you making fun of me?” she whines, rubbing the leftover moisture into her skin.

jieun laughs, a silvery, pretty sound. “no, just making sure. hey, how much time until midnight?”

she doesn’t even have to answer; the television notifies them loudly that there are 10 seconds left in 2016. fucking finally. the neighbors are a little too excited about the new year, and the girls can hear their boisterous counting from next door. 

five, four. “sua, do you mind?”

three. “do i mind what?”

two. “being my new year’s kiss.” “what?”

one. jieun leans forward and plants a kiss square on sua’s lips. sua was the one that brought it up in the first place, but she hadn’t expected the other to take her seriously. she finds she doesn’t quite dislike it.

the kiss ends as abruptly as it started, and jieun grabs the bottle of champagne from next to sua.

“happy new year,” she says simply, opening the bottle with a satisfying pop. “champagne?”