anger's the easiest emotion to turn to when she doesn't know what else to feel.
saying she's disappointed in jin seulki gives the latter too much credit, like raon had expected anything other than a few nights between bedsheets and a lifetime of being backstabbed. upset doesn't encompass the way she's waiting for her shift to end so she can grab a baseball bat and wait outside her stupid fucking house with stupid fucking marble floors. even anger isn't enough to describe the way raon has to bite the inside of her cheek almost hard enough to draw blood now, seeing her through the windows.
hook, line, sink her. her fingers intuitively close around the glass of water that sits on the bar counter like a makeshift weapon, but she decides that paying to get a ₩1,000,000 blazer dry cleaned isn't on her list of expenses for the month. there's always april, she tells herself.
instead, her nails tap against the surface with the waves of impatience that she's never been able to subdue, brimming under her skin the way a ticking bomb counts down. silver embellishments on glossy red to match the shade of anger that blooms across her face when seulki glides through the doors prettily, perfectly, unbothered. raon figures out that there's no other choice but to blow up.
"what the actual fuck?" the words that fly out of her mouth are automatic, a ricocheting bullet that follows the pull of the trigger or the arrow let loose from the taut string of a bow. raon's never actually heard of a time where looks have killed, but she very well hopes the one she throws seulki comes damn close to it.
the subsequent, sharp laugh conceals none of her blatant irritation. "is all of this a joke to you? i didn't write you down as someone pathetic enough to go after small fish just to make yourself feel like y'have a little power."
@16lies / 01.
