by the toe
@rmhyejin
the second he steps off of the motorboat, he knows where he’s going: not anywhere near cabin black because loyalty be damned at this hour, but to the one two doors down.
green. synonymous with tranquility, calm in the language of color psychology, the deepest hold of the earth with its emerald-blazed hills, sweeping flora and fauna, and whatever else tree-fucker poetics involve that he can’t care to indulge in. but it’s refuge he’s seeking, and refuge he’ll have one way or another. if not here, then elsewhere.
to his utmost relief, it appears there’s no need to go looking for it anywhere else.
ducking under the doorway, yejun’s steps are pronounced, falling heavy through the cabin. on better, brighter days, he’d put up the stealth act as those possessed by mischief do, but nothing is harmless about the way his shitty mood trails behind him, a presence so loud that it’d turned heads on his way down here.
she’s turned away when he enters the room, face half hidden by loose beach waves. but there’s no need to do a double-take. real recognizes real, and there’s nothing that rings painfully true like their brand of misery. another summer, another lesson in romantics grown sour.
he tosses his bag to a corner and drops to the ground, back slouched against the foot of hyejin’s bed. “can this trip be fucking done already?”
exhaustion settles in and she’s found a quiet corner in the cabin to claim as her own. it’s moving muscle & bone together to seek some semblance of normalcy. but she’s weighed down as if there’s smog in her chest, in her head — breathe and she’d smother everyone on the damn island. as if she could sink into negative space, some phantom-bruise untethered by this carnage of feelings she’s bound herself to ( a lesson on vulnerability & terrible choices that she never learns from again and again ).
she looks down at her phone, fingers pausing over yejun’s number, half debating whether or not to call him. she should be exploring the island, clearing her head and sketching away by the shore. not hiding herself away like a hermit and dragging him into this pathetic state she’s stuck in. but perhaps misery loves company and hyejin’s internal monologue is interrupted: she hears him before she sees him.
yejun’s mood is palpable ( just as hers ) but as usual something unknots inside of her effortlessly at his presence.
a sigh — she drops her phone on the bed and moves to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder, slumped against the foot of her bed. “well... the change of scenery ain’t half bad.” she offers some half hearted attempt at optimism. “how are things with your cabin?” hyejin turns her head to look at him, genuine concern in her words. her gaze is soft & unguarded, reserved only for those she holds close to her heart. “i heard she’s your cabin-mate... perhaps that’s a blessing in disguise, jun. at least one of us should come out of this trip less miserable than we did starting it.”
