#;drabbles!.

[bomibibu]

✢

Send me a ✢ for my muse's reaction to seeing yours standing on their doorstep soaking wet in the rain.

Related drabble: here! {Sort of like a prequel, if you like!} 

It was the second time that week that the girl had found herself cocooned in a fluffy sea of linen blankets — curled up upon the couch; a mountain of supplies extensive enough to outlast an apocalypse piled up on the coffee table before her. The sky was crying; and by Yoon Bomi’s oh-so-equal reasoning — this meant that she herself should be crying too. You know, just to even it out a little bit; just so the sky could feel a little bit better about itself.

And so here the girl sat; blanket-burrito’d in front of the television — and nibbling away at a slice of pepperoni pizza as she (quite literally) sobbed all over the place; mourning over the tragedy of Jamie and Landon in A Walk To Remember, as if she knew the fictional characters personally. “I miss when movies based on Nicholas Spark’s novels were actually go — Oh no, Landoooooooon. Don’t cry; it hurts seeing you like this! Just stoooop!” She despaired amongst her tears and pepperoni pizza-eating; out-right wailing — completely inconsolable … When there was a shuffling of footsteps at the door.

Damp, fawn hues widening; Bomi deconstructed the blanket burrito in record time, throwing down the slice of pizza while she was at it — completely mortified at the thought of even one of her two new housemates catching her in such a stereotypically girly-sappy state. The teasing would go on forever (and ever — and ever!). But as the girl sat there; cheeks red and tear-stained, chick flick frozen on pause — there was no turning of the door lock. Instead, there echoed through the apartment a small knock on the door. “Hm..?” The girl mused aloud, hopping right up from the couch as she set off on yet another rainy day door answering journey; the second one she had set out on that week.

"Hiya, what can I do for you to— Oh, gosh!" The words slipped past her lips in a startled manner as she pulled the door open to find herself greeted with a rain-soaked figure. "Did you get caught in the rain! Oh, it’s absolutely terrible outside; isn’t it!? C’mon, please come in! — Let’s get you dry and warm, hm? There’s pepperoni pizza, too — if you’d like some!" 

[bomibibu]

Symbol thing which I can't send cause mobile is a poo.

Send me a ✢ for my muse's reaction to seeing yours standing on their doorstep soaking wet in the rain.

All individuals who considered themselves a friend of a certain Yoon Bomi carried the common knowledge that rainy days often meant a day consisting entirely of a couch, a blanket, an inhumanly large mug of hot chai latte, a pizza delivery and a never-ending marathon of sappy, sob-ish, heart-wrenching chick flicks. And as it so happens? The day that the following occurrence takes place; was a rainy day indeed.

Wind rattled the frames of the apartment windows; rain droplets streamed down along the transparent glass surface; and yet Yoon Bomi sat wrapped in a blanket burrito, caring little for the bleak weather that loomed outside as she revelled in the warm atmosphere of the apartment within. The only rain that existed in the girl’s world were the tears that trickled down her pink-stained cheeks; nose runny and red as she sobbed her heart out while watching Titanic. A knock at the door drew the girl out of her sorrows however, as a wave of curiosity washed over her. Mark and Seokjin always had their keys on them; so who stood at the door this very instant? Hopping over to the door; still in blanket-burrito form, the girl decided to go find out.

A drenched form stood before her; dampening her spirits as her brows furrowed lightly in concern. “O-oh gosh, sir! Are you alright? You’re drenched! — Did you get caught in the rain!?” She posed the questions; but her roll-on of words disallowed the male a chance to answer. “Sweet pickles above, come on in — I’ll get you dried up and warm; you can stay ‘til the rain passes, hm?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a forced-upon statement — there was no way that Bomi was about to let the male before her go back out into the terrible weather. “Here, c’mon in.” 

[bomibibu]

"I need a drink."

"I need a drink."

"No." The girl had never worn an expression so shrouded by seriousness; fawn hues absent of the bright little glint that they usually carried, as her lips sat pursed together into a neat, fine line. Reaching out with her right, Bomi clapped a consoling hand to her friend’s shoulder; artfully whisking away the glass in his hands with her left, setting it down to her side so it was out of her companions reach. "Kiyong-ah; I get that some days, yeah — you "need" to have a few drinks — but.. hasn’t the past week of it been enough?" As she spoke; her gaze was laced with concern — yet subtly masked, hidden behind the worry, lay a certain air of affection. Beyond the lectures and her stern words, Bomi only wanted to help him.

"C'mon -- booze be-gone, it's talkeu timeu, hm?" She awaited his response anxiously; brows lifted as they furrowed together subtly -- her arms folded upon the table-top as she leaned forward slightly, head angled to the right to glance at the male with a hopeful gaze. 

[bomibibu]

♚

SEND A ♚. YOUR CHARACTER FALLS ASLEEP ON MINE, I'LL REPLY WITH WHAT MINE DOES.

One, two, three entire days — that’s how long the girl had gone without even a single moment’s rest; and were it not for the present hunger that gnawed relentlessly at her stomach, or the cold that had deemed her fingertips numb, Yoon Bomi would have almost certainly fallen asleep in this backstage waiting room. Her head lulled weakly to the left, eyelids fighting only slightly to remain open; she was at her wits end. Sleep, it seemed, began to whisper it’s whereabouts in a comforting and soft voice of velvet, when —

A gentle press upon her shoulder does well to claim her senses; robbing sleep from her from right beneath her nose. She rubs the tire from her brown hues before glancing over to find The Lee Hayi — her head rested upon her shoulder. A deep breath in, then out — she gathers her wits about her; reaching out to tap at the younger's shoulder gently. 

"The end of year schedules are always more tiring than the rest, hm?" Her lips house a soft smile; gaze warm. 

[bomibibu]

"That’s the cutest snow angel I’ve ever seen!"

The Korean, female, twenty year old embodiment of Vincent Van Gogh — that’s what the ever so delusional optimistic girl thought of herself; though in actual fact, her level of artistic ability sat very near to a dismal nil. However, more persistent, stubborn and rather determined due to this fact; desiring to have the world acknowledge the artistic genius that was Yoon Bomi, the girl inched herself among the sea of snow that had fallen outside her dormitory, busying herself with the creation of “Sir Snowy The Great Snowman”. 

 A good and lengthy hour or two later; a rather mangled-looking Snowman stood outside the APink dorm, scaring away passersby despite the small little coffee bean smile that he wore. Sir Snowy’s eyes were fashioned from mismatching pebbles; one large and dark gray, the other rather small and sandy beige in colour — his nose stood carrot-less; replaced with a purple sweet potato that made his face seem just the slightest bit too small. In Bomi’s eyes; Sir Snowy was the handsomest of his kind — and she imagined that any respectable Snowlady would fancy Sir Snowy as their spouse; but it seemed as if Bomi stood alone with her views, for Sir Snowy terrified the children that walked along by; earning her multiple less-than-kind glares from parents. Downtrodden and defeated; the girl collapsed upon the snow — eyes fluttering shut as her arms and legs outstretched; sweeping the snow away to form a snow angel.

Everyone needed a guardian angel. Especially Snowmen who weren’t accepted into society based on something as trivial aesthetics, she reasoned. 

{ That’s the cutest snow angel I’ve ever seen! }

Her limbs froze on the spot; hues flickering wide to take in the sight of a lovely lady that stood by her side. A smile smoothing out along her lips as she inched herself up off the snow, she brushed herself off lightly; “That’s really lovely of you to say — thank you.” 

[bomibibu]

"I think I got some tinsel up my nose."

She was busy in the kitchen; a stray wooden rolling pin laying about here and uncooked cookie dough laying about there. The scent of cinnamon sugar cookies baking in the oven filled the dorm with a scent of saccharine sweetness; and there was a cheeriness and a warmth that hung in the air despite the growing winter chill. 

{ I think I got some tinsel up my nose. } 

She turned to glance behind her; an affectionate grin plastering itself along her rose red lips at the sight of the younger. “Aigoo, Son Naeun; how'd you even manage that? That's something that I'd usually do -- not you!" A series of soft chuckles fell from her lips as she shook her head lightly — "Just, uh.. blow it out!? Y’know, like —” She took a deep breath in; lips pursed together tightly before she exhaled through her nose with comical force. 

[bomibibu]

He leans in close, drawn in by a simple yet alluring type of scent; properness be damned, perhaps. Something that caught his attention-- well, nose, and had him drop mannerisms for the briefest of moments, or minutes. If he would come across as a weirdo to the woman he had never met then, ah, so be it but honesty was a blessed curse he'd carry for the majority of his life, certain. Lips near her ear, breathing it out on a careful exhale and warmed smile, "You smell like cinnamon."

{ You smell like cinnamon } The unexpected call resounded softly within the shell of her ear, catching her unaware and causing her to jump up slightly in her own skin — startled, as a soft exclamation slipped past her pale, cold lips. “O-oh—!” With a brisk turn of her head, the girl glanced over at the stranger; a rosy red colouring the curve of both her cheeks. “M’sorry about my cinnamon-smelling-ness, sir. Just made a batch of cinnamon sugar cookies — hope the smell doesn’t bother you too much; the sweetness often gets to a lot of people.” She apologised; her lips moving to let pass a sea of explanatory words — but something about the other’s warm smile had her assured that he didn’t mind in the least. Anyways, that all being sai — woah, wait. Was that Kwon Jiyong who was standing right before her very eyes? … Had she just been smelt by Kwon Jiyong!? ‘Woah, try not to swoon there; Yoon Bomi. Steady, steady!’

Her thoughts were sent a blur — this’d be a story to tell, for sure; an interesting story indeed.