She wraps her arms around Jaehee’s waist and immediately kisses her cheek back, though her lips linger on the other’s skin for much longer. Mina pulls her close and rubs her nose against Jaehee’s when her kiss finally ends, pursing her lips playfully.
i know i’m not here and i know i’ve got messages piling up but pls give me a few more days. i’ve got two assessments due in this week and i’ve not even started one of them. pls be patient with me bc this is difficult.
mina is absolutely the kind of person to tell someone she’s in love with them minutes before they’re about to marry someone else. she could even be in the wedding party and she’d stay quiet for months, but the second she knows they’re about to actually do the marriage thing she’d take them aside or find them alone and tell them she wants them to be happy but she’s also so badly in love with them that she can’t stand the idea with them knowing.
if u don’t take advantage of this then we can’t be friends.
tangled the series was complete shit but. waiting in the wings, a song about reset mina watching the rfa heal through her but she’s never able to get over her own problems.
The harsh brightness of her phone vanishes with a single click, leaving no light other than the outside glow that illuminates just the edge of the furniture in a room that belongs to neither of them. Even now that she knows every inch of this apartment, Mina is still submerged by an overwhelming feeling of this isn’t mine.
How many years has she been stuck here?
She shakes her head, turning her half-lidded gaze around until it rests on him. It’s a rare moment ; he’s asleep, curled up on his corner of the sofa, and her persona is gone, revealing the tiredness that hangs off her slumped shoulders. A breath slips through her lungs in a silent sigh before she sleepily runs her eyes over him.
He looks about as peaceful as he could, and at that moment it’s enough. At least he’s asleep this time - she can recall thousands of moments in the night where he was just as awake as she is now. Both of them, spending hours in that spooky in-between place where they’re too tired to even talk but too jittery to even shut their eyes. It’s only her in that position now and she finds that she’s glad.
Yeah, she supposes she’s glad to be alone. There’s no silly pretenses or faking bright conversation. She’s basking in the shadows that offer a haven in all the madness and even when she stands to stretch her arms high above her head, they’re still wrapped around her in a comforting, cool embrace.
The open window pushes her hair into her face - she’d forgotten it was open. She glances at Jack again, wondering if he’s cold. He doesn’t seem to be, but he might wake up cold. There’s a blanket on the back of the sofa ; she gives it a tug and lets it fall onto her friend haphazardly. It’s not to anyone’s standard of neat, but it should give him plenty of room to kick it off or pull it tighter, whichever he chooses when he wakes.
Nevertheless, she lazily wanders to the window to close it, briefly watching the outside world. Hardly anything is moving, but the city is glowing with lights. If she wasn’t here, would she be out there? Would she be at peace with the light that would accompany knowing she left the RFA, or would she be brought back immediately in a complete reset? Would she even be able to leave her new friends?
Maybe it doesn’t matter, she ponders as she twists her head to look at him again. Maybe it’s enough to just be here now.
He twitches and she jumps, ready to retreat to her room so he can rest in peace, but her plan isn’t necessary ; he stops moving as quickly as he began. A smile tugs at the corner of her lips and she drifts closer again.
It’s odd. He’s all white hair and pale skin, reflecting the little light of the outside, somehow managing to be a dim beacon in the night while embracing the darkness around him - just like the moon in the deepest hour of the night. He’s the only source of light at this time, except for the faint glow from her pocket to tell her someone’s come online.
Her steps turn towards her room, only pausing for a second as she considers the once-stranger asleep on a sofa that belongs to neither of them. She’s still close enough to reach him, and she’s careful as she lets her hand awkwardly yet continuously pat his head.
“ It’s all going to be okay. One way or another. ”
She doesn’t believe a word of the perky, maddeningly-sweet optimism that comes out of her own mouth. But false words might provide him with comfort if he’s more awake than she knows. At least if she knows the truth, she could use it to ease the others. Maybe that’s her role in this insufferable repeat of the same eleven days.
It’s funny. I still feel like a little girl . I’m still looking around to check and see what other people are doing to make sure I’m not completely different; I’m still looking around for help, hoping for a quick nudge and a whisper of advice. But I can’t seem to be able to catch anybody’s eye. Nobody else around me seems to be looking around and wondering what to do. Why is it that I feel like I’m the only person who is confused and concerned about the choices I’ve made and where I’m headed?