danielle marsh x kim minji; future fluff … maybe some angst
warnings - nothing much (yet), a hint of tension and build-up of emotional turmoil >:>, all other shenanigans not alr listed; scantily proofread by someone I annoy on the daily who thinks they’re not incredible at writing but actually is (not me… sigh)
(when you don’t know if you can count yourself an author but write an author’s note anyway bc why not: will this gain any traction wotsoever absolutely not!! but if it does…or doesn’t…i shall try my best to upload at a schedule that loosely resembles consistency (says the full time student…at a tech magnet) i bid you all safe readings)
“No, I haven’t been kidnapped. No, I’m not being held at gunpoint just to say that. No, that’s…”
Haerin flops down on Danielle’s floral printed beanbag, tucked away in a corner near her bookshelf with a dazzling array of romance novels, Vogue issues and perfectly preserved albums.
And of course, a whole shelf dedicated to BLɅϽKPIИK. All of their albums lined up in a row, different color variations, too, took up most of the space, but to the far right, she had set up a tiny shrine-like area completely free of any malicious dust-flecks for Park Chaeyoung, or Rosé.
Her April 2021 Vogue cover issue; her -R- album in all its black and white collage glory; official and unofficial lomo photocards in their glossy film protective sheets; and a random sheet of white lined paper with the words “Dear Rosé Unnie,” inscribed upon it.
“-rin… Haerin… HAERIN!!” Even Danielle could hear this exclamation through the phone.
“Mom, like I said.. I’M. AT. DANIELLE’S. PLACE. Don’t worry about me, I’m just going to sleep over, and we’re going to bike to school tomorrow.”
“Oh well why didn’t you say so. If you’re at Danielle’s, then I don’t need to worry about there being any unruly guys-”
Haerin sighs as she ends the call and wipes the screen with her sleeve, the condensation of her breath or perhaps, her panic, disappearing in a swipe. Danielle had been too busy to notice anything after the shriek anyway, too lost in her own world.
Daydreaming. One of her many habits, almost a core part of her personality. Half the time you look at her, she’s already off in her imagination, dreaming about something that brings a beautiful smile to her lips and crinkles the corners of her eyes in the most adorable way.
But Haerin had gotten used to the bedazzling effect of Danielle’s daydreaming state over the years and told herself she wasn’t affected by it anymore. Or, at least she tried. Nothing wrong with admiring an enchanting girl and being close enough with her to tell her she’s pretty every time the urge wanders into her brain cell.
“Oi, where you off to today, Dani?”
“Nowhere nearly as interesting as here with you, Haerin-ah~”
Haerin sticks her tongue out at Danielle, not satisfied with that poor deflection of an answer–and immune to her flirtatious charm at the moment. She knows better than to move on to another topic too quickly.
“Sometimes… I don’t know, I just, I feel like-” as Danielle starts, Haerin grins. This is what she was waiting for. “-do you ever think about how we really don’t know a lot of things?”
“Yeah, like how I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with carrots.”
Rolling her eyes, Danielle continues: “No, I mean… gosh you made me forget what I was going to sayyyy, you goon.”
“Take your time, we’ve still got a lot of carrots to go through, don’t worry.”
“Sometimes, I think about what it really means to know someone. For most people, they live through a series of events like, not necessarily just different ages like toddler and teen and young adult and…”
Haerin is mesmerized, beyond comprehension of Danielle’s utterances, by her favorite carrot muncher’s eyes. When she isn’t wearing her lighter silvery-auburn shaded contact lenses, Danielle’s eyes glow in a different kind of way.
And no, not like chocolate or hazel or black holes or caramel. They glistened like the periphery of shadows in the night under the stars or the city street lights, like the reflection of light on rain drops through a hazy glass window, like dimmed but still stunning morning sunlight peeking at the remnants of a dewey dawn.
“...and what if, as we bike to school or strut in a crowded mall or recline in a movie theatre, we are unknowingly coexisting in a confined space in a confined moment of time with the very soulmate we see in our imaginations of the future, the one we all inherently long for.”
Danielle glances over at Haerin who looks lost but found at the same time, forgotten but recognized, neglected but adored.
“Too many big words? I agree.”
~*~
“Truth or dare?”
“If I pick dare, you’re going to dare me to pick truth in the next round.”
“What, me? I would never.”
“...”
“Okay I’ll admit, I have done that before but I promise I won’t this time.”
Still skeptical, Danielle continues pedaling for a minute in silence, then relents albeit with a stiff side eye.
“Thank you for placing your trust in me O Great Sage.”
“Get on with it. What’s your dare?”
“I dare you to ask she-who-must-not-be-named-let-alone-thought-of for her number by the end of class.”
SCREEEEEEEEEEECH.
An abrupt stop. A collision. No injuries, except for both parties’ pride.
danielle marsh x kim minji; future fluff … maybe some angst
blorp! (basically tldr) - In an imperfect world, people find themselves ironically searching for perfection, holding other people, things and ideas to unrealistic expectations. Hoping for perfect is in itself an imperfection—a character flaw, some may call it. But if it’s in our imagination, there’s nothing holding us back. Until reality hits—hard. A story where someone or everyone has different expectations, idealizations, imaginations and when worlds collide, so do these hopes and dreams—and they’re left to deal with the rest.
(tf does that even mean girl why r u pulling a Socrates on me u never fail to make my brain hurt but keep it ig… - my proofreader)
warnings - nothing much (yet), a hint of tension and build-up of emotional turmoil >:>, all other shenanigans not alr listed; scantily proofread by someone I annoy on the daily who thinks they’re not incredible at writing but actually is (not me… *sigh*)
(when you don’t know if you can count yourself an author but write an author’s note anyway bc why not: will this gain any traction wotsoever absolutely not!! but if it does…or doesn’t…i shall try my best to upload at a schedule that loosely resembles consistency (says the full time student…at a tech magnet) i bid you all safe readings)
She really just did that.
The audacity…no, the utterly flabbergasting and dumbfounding disrespect!
How dare she even dream of taking the last, gloriously refrigerated, creamy sweet strawberry milk?!
Oh, and well now she’s just rubbing it in my face. Ripping the plastic straw off the box, bringing it up to her mouth and gripping a side with her teeth to open the packaging, peeling off the plastic and stuffing it into her uniform pocket, taking the straw from her lips and—wait. Her lips? Pink, yes. Soft, yes. But sparkly? Kim Minji wearing lip gloss? Wow, the nerve. She just had to look good on the very day she takes the LAST, GLORIOU -…wait, we’ve already been through that, skip skip.
Back to the milk.
The sharp end of the straw pokes through the foil hole and slides in as she brings it to her lips. She takes a long sip, and I can see it as she swallows, and sighs. Such a satisfied sigh. I would have sighed like that too had I been the one to have taken the strawberry milk.
How annoying.
Should I confront her about it tomorrow? What do you think, Literary Danielle? No, you’d say I’m being unreasonable. If anyone else had taken the last strawberry milk, which just happens to be my favorite snack from the dispenser, I would not be as worked up about it. Right? It’s all because it’s Minji. My dear nemesis, my one and only rival, Kim Minji.
~*~
Danielle shuts her journal, pulling the strap over the cover and placing her pen (or quill, as she likes to call it–it makes her feel special) on top. Just as she’s about to let out a sigh, she hears a bright plink at her window. She holds her breath. Maybe it was just a stray rain drop?
Plink!
Then the characteristic whistle. She lets out her breath and climbs onto her desk to open the hatch and push out, leaning over the edge, bringing her face to face with her closest confidant, forever free-of-charge trusty investigator/instigator, her best friend Kang Haerin–though she looks more like an unrecognizable part marsh monster, part swamp goon, part soggy cat at the moment.
“Haerin? You must be insane,” admonishes Danielle with the air of a scowling principal. “But I still love you, don’t worry. Here, come in.” She rolls up the sleeves of her warm oversized sweater and extends her hands to rescue her friend from the elements.
Once hoisted up, Haerin sits on the window sill with a huge fluffy Disney princess beach towel over her head and shoulders, watching Danielle scurry about, throwing whatever towels she can find in her drawers on the ground, forming a collage of childhood memories as a path to the bathroom for Haerin to tiptoe across.
Haerin sneezes. Almost inaudibly. Maybe it wasn’t even a sneeze. Who knows? She elegantly slips off her perch and walks along the path, much to the gratification of Danielle’s hard work, but stops abruptly in the middle to take the towel off her head and shake some water off vigorously. Loving the chaos that ensues with Danielle spluttering and almost wacking her with her journal but stopping just before impact, realizing just how drenched Haerin is, Haerin smirks and runs into the bathroom with a change of clothes.
“Why are you here anyway Haerin, you little gremlin?” Danielle asks through the door, munching on a carrot she magically procured.
“Because you love me.” Haerin responds nonchalantly, muffled through a hoodie.
“It’s raining.”
“I love the rain. You should know this by now.”
“You love the rain one day and hate the rain the next. You’re like a cat, enamored by the idea of water in a bathtub but despising it when you slip in.” Danielle observes. “And it’s been a while since you’ve crawled through my window, too.”
“Okay, Enola Holmes.” Danielle falls backward when the door opens but seems unbothered by it, staring up at Haerin whilst on her back still munching on the carrot. Haerin steals the carrot, takes a bite, and gives it back to Danielle.
“I have a conjecture. That’s why.”
“Okay, Watson. Spill.”
Haerin flips her wet hair onto Danielle, tickling her with the cold still damp strands.
“You are in love with Kim Minji.”
In love, with who? The strawberry milk thief, criminal, perpetrator.
Kim. Minji.
“In love…with that… GOON?! Haerin, are you alright? Your brain must be waterlogged. You must not be thinking straight. Not not straight as in.. you know but not straight as in you must be out of your mind. Who, me? Love Kim Minji? Now THAT is peak comedy. I mean, who knew you were such an SNL star? Pfffffff you’re crazy.” Danielle vents. “Crazy.”
“Why so flustered hmmmmmm?”
Danielle chokes on some carrot at the smirk and suggestive eyebrow wiggle Haerin gives her.
For the past 3 years, Danielle has done nothing but resent Minji. Well, resent is a harsh word. More accurately, Danielle existentially despised Minji to the core. Ever since that fateful rainy first day of school, she has held a grudge so steep it’s almost tapped into her ancestral spiritual lines of alternate universes and beyond.
~*~
Young Danielle was almost late to class. Leave it to rainy day traffic to ruin anyone’s first day of middle school. She forgot about the umbrella in the car, throwing open the car door and sprinting across the blacktop to the building and running down the hall. The second bell had still yet to ring as she joined the last stragglers in their panicked scrambling and just as she was about to turn the corner, she slipped.
Her life flashed before her eyes. Her short, 3 minute life in middle school taking up most of the scenes, as the world tilted, lockers rising at unreal angles, the tiles of the floor coming into view, the blinding ceiling lights shining into her eyes.
Wind knocked out of her, head spinning, tailbone throbbing, Danielle was on the verge of tears. Well, that’s just great. Just how much worse can this day get?
As she sits up, she sees a girl walk in through the same door she had burst through just moments earlier. Neatly dressed, perfect skin, long hair, poised. She speed walks and the self made breeze blows her hair back in the most enchanting way.
She approaches Danielle. Danielle looks up at her, and her eyes widen at how beautiful she looks up close as well.
The girl seems to say something, but Danielle can’t hear a word. Her name tag reads “Kim Minji.” Kim Minji. ‘Heh, she looks nice,’ Danielle thinks. Then the bell rings, shattering her glossy hour of awe and she’s able to catch the last word.
“...loser.”
Minji sighs, shrugs, and opens the door. She gives her dripping umbrella to Danielle and strides to her seat, apologizing to the teacher for being a few seconds late.
~*~
And, 3 years later, her best friend is telling her she’s in love with Kim Minji?
