chasing this
we've been chasing this, all of our years. want it so bad, you're willing to face all your fears - @idjowi, shared dorm room
it’s dusk, and the pollution hangs like a haze in the sky. still on the tail end of spring, but it’ll rain tomorrow, and the sky will clear. the app on her phone will smile back at her, hearts in it’s eyes. she likes that, but she doesn’t so much like the rain. she is happy that her schedule’s finished with though. a bland sort of photoshoot where all the members would later get photoshopped in together because they couldn’t all make it on the same day and the company wasn’t paying them enough to force it into their schedule. but it doesn’t matter so much anymore, she’s just happy she’s getting paid.
is happy to hop free from her van while her manager veers off to go pick up one of the other members. keys her way into cherry bomb!’s dorm and kicks off heavy sounding doc mary jane’s. they echo around the entrance, and it has her wondering if anyone else has made it home yet. there’s nobody in the kitchen, and the door to the other girls’ room is swung wide open, contents devoid of life. it’s a rarity. usually they’re all bunched up together, thrown into schedules, or else spilled back home altogether in a jumbled mess. miji doesn’t mind it. sometimes things don’t feel quite right. she knows they’re supposed to fit together like puzzle pieces. supposed to complete each other. but that’s not always how reality works out. she likes hyera, she really does. but it’s still hard for miji to read her -- and maybe it’s because of the gap in their age.
she gets to her own shared room and shoulders open the door. discovers she’s not quite alone after all. but she can’t bring herself to mind too much. jowi’s always been the one she’s felt at home with. tied together from the beginning, when they were both trainees. before they got tossed into the same group. when the two of them had still felt hopeful. that seems to have washed away in recent circumstances.
or now, with the smell of flavored soju lingering heavy in the air. jowi looks like she’s been drinking her way through at least a bottle before miji had gotten how. she lifts a foot to knock toes into jowi’s shoulder as she crosses the room. “do you need a bucket?” she asks, because she wants on a gauge on just how drunk jowi is -- fun drunk, sloppy drunk, or sick drunk. she hopes for the first option as she shrugs off a jacket she’d been asked to where as a promotion. something the weather had been far too hot for, tosses it on her bed.