#i.nt!

[247iya-blog]

@247xjongsuk​

the soft ping! emanating from her device’s speakers calls her wandering attention. ten p.m. and the view outside her window is breathtakingly beautiful: an indigo-inked sky dotted with white drops of starlight. she’d been staring thoughtfully outside nursing her before-bed cup of tea when her ears had picked up the sound.

‘SILVER returns to seoul! airport pics below!’ is the title of the latest of many notifications from the SILVER fancafe she is a member of ( not by choice, mind you; it had been his idea from the beginning to register her without her knowledge – yoona couldn’t confidently say she even knew all of the group members’ names ). out of curiosity, she scrolls down the post, passing the pictures of the no-names she cares nothing for, until her eyes finally recognize the captured figure on the screen.

jongsuk is looking so pale again, the dark-haired girl thinks to herself. and he’s lost weight too. she wonders if he’s eating right. if the long days and longer nights are getting to him. if he’s too tired. if he’s too lonely.

her fingers don’t hesitate to find his contact name on her phone. 

< sms : jongsuk is the most handsome idol in world >

i see you’re back where did you even go? don’t answer, i’m seeing you in twenty we’re going for food, so bring your wallet you looked like fuckin casper the friendly ghost in these pics you need to eat and when did you change your name on my phone?!?!

she’s at his door in twenty minutes, just like she’s promised. “come on, loser, you’re taking me out for some ddeokbokki at that street cart by your place. they have the best fish cakes! i literally don’t give a flying fuck if you’re in hot pink booty shorts right now; you’re coming with me to eat.”

[247iya-blog]

@247yuri

harsh, biting winds scratch at her rouged cheeks; it slithers through her hair, brushing silken strands away from an angled jaw to flow behind her unbidden. retrospect causes yoona to wish that she'd tied it up, for now it had to contend with the blustering gale — she would have a tangle of dark tresses to deal with once she got home.

she wraps her slender frame in the warm coat she's been gifted so generously by sungkyung ("michael's seriously lost his touch if he thinks this is up to par!"). the storm had come on so suddenly; all she’d been doing was sitting around taking calls for her boss for the entirety of the day, her back to the window and therefore the onslaught of ominous-looking storm clouds. she hadn’t thought to bring her umbrella, seeing as when she’d left the house it had, in fact, been sunny, but fortunately the office had a multitude of spare ones to rent out, so here she was, readying herself for a thankfully not soaking, yet ultimately still horrid trip back to the hongdae slums.

except lo and behold her awful luck, because her umbrella isn’t opening and the dark-haired woman is just about this close to both losing her mind and going into panic-mode. it is with frantic fingers that she presses down hard on the button to open the offending object, but it is just not -- oh there!

her joyful exclamation of “hell yes!” is muffled by the loud groan of pain emanating from the opposing side of her now-open umbrella. the victorious smile on yoona’s face freezes as her ears pick up the sound, and then drops into a look of utter terror as she realizes what she’s just done.

“oh, my god i am so sorry!” she near-screams at the woman crumpled into herself in front of her. “did i hit you? god, yoona, you idiot of course i did. where? are you dying? do you need to go to hospital? do you want me to carry you home? please say something i’m just so sorry--”

[247iya-blog]

@247wonho

purposeful, long-legged steps take her through the library’s rather egregious entrance. she brushes by the gleaming wooden shelves, the ceiling-high stacks of books, the grand study tables – she knows perfectly well where she is going. yoona has memorized every section of the building, at first out of necessity, and then it had become just pure muscle memory. strenuous days had turned into long, everlasting nights, and she’d spent an abundance of her university hours curled up in some corner of this neverending place, notes on aristotle and foreign policies and political theories occupying the entirety of a table meant for ten.

she’s reached the law section now. her hands splay over the innumerable texts - yoona grins like a maniac, but it’s fine because finally she’s back to her second home amongst these books. she skips over a few shelves ( political thought from inception to modern theory ) to find the section she’s looking for. down, down, down - her fingers search for a particular tomb she’s been eyeing for a while. but, alas – “it’s not here?”

brow wrinkles; slender eyebrows gather together and a rosy mouth dips into a tiny frown. her displeasure is manifested more in the manner in which her shoulders tense and how she sucks in a deep breath. it’s fine, it’s good - she’ll just ask the librarian –

“oh, i just saw a young man take it off the shelf not too long ago. he’s right over there. he seems quite nice, if you ask me. handsome too!” the woman says with a knowing smile ( what she could possibly know is beyond yoona’s comprehension ). “i’m sure if you just ask him, he’ll give it to you!”

she plasters on a smile, gives her thanks, and turns to approach the boy in question. yoona’s only taken a few steps before she catches sight of his profile. and goddamn her rotten luck, because that ‘nice, handsome man’ is none other than shin wonho, the actual bane of her existence. good looks, stellar academic abilities – he had been her rival at nearly everything ever since they’d both graced cheongnam’s halls. and now his ( admittedly nice, but still ) filthy hands were grasping the book she’d been wanting to read for eons. 

she plunks her bag rather ungracefully onto the seat across from him. sits down, gives him a tepid smile. “how much longer are you going to be using that for, wonho?” god, it hurts to even look at him.

[247iya-blog]

@247sungkyung

it’s not that she dreads having to meet up with sungkyung. it’s just that she dreads meeting up with sungkyung.

okay, the sentiment is not entirely sincere – when the two are together, they have fun. besides the pricking of her pale frame with sungkyung’s pins and the innumerable wardrobe changes and intense scrutinization of her body, yoona doesn’t mind sungkyung’s company. she was funny, in a very subtle way – wholly genuine and good-natured. and she gave yoona nice clothes she insisted she didn’t need. it was the one time her appearing like a charity case was entirely worth it; she had shelves in her run-down closet brimming with expensive luxury fabrics and designs that, while maybe from a season or two ago, were still pristine and worth more than the entirety of her apartment combined.

so she doesn’t hesitate when her phone lights up and sungkyung appears on her screen, asserting that she come over ‘asap!!!!’ because she needed her mannequin. “p.s. don’t eat another hamburger before coming over here, it’ll ruin everything again.” yoona reads aloud, before a tiny scoff passes through her lips.

she’s at sungkyung’s place in under half an hour, standing outside the macheon hill community and feeling entirely underwhelming in her no-name boots and street vendor beanie. she pulls out her phone, scrolls through her contacts, and finds the name she is looking for. 

< sms : closet >

i’m here please come get me it’s cold or else i’ll be v tempted to eat the QUARTER POUNDER i have with me

there is no remorse for sungkyung’s nickname. yoona knows for a fact she was once named ‘mannequin’ on the younger’s phone.

[247iya-blog]

@247yk

the republique cafe’s door’s bells had chimed with a pleasant familiarity to announce her entrance. the employee manning the cash register greets her warmly as yoona slides in; yoona grins right back and walks over to the countertop just as her order flashes on the screen. “how you’re always here at exactly this time is beyond me, yoona,” the young cashier’s tone shows his admiration; yoona merely rolls her eyes, hands him exact change, and gives him a crooked little smirk from behind her scarf.

“well, if you know i’m here all the time, why don’t you just prepare my order in advance?”

she is nursing a matcha latte and one of the cafe’s exquisite scones two minutes later, sitting comfortably at a table that she’d long claimed as her own. every reblique employee that passes by gives her a kind hello, which she returns with a smile and a ‘how are you?’. she knows them all, anyway -- after coming here for the last year or so during her lunch breaks, she had gotten to know most of the employees here quite well.

save for, to her disappointment, the owner himself.

he came in every day without fail (dedication was always a trait she’d liked in boys), often busy in the back with the logistics and paperwork associated with the business. he was apt to making appearances in the front counter from time to time, though; she watched him as tended to his customers with a suaveness and expertise that made him attractive in the eyes of so many, no doubt (the number included herself, obviously). their eyes would meet sometimes -- she’d give him a glittering smile, doe-eyes slanting into the perfect crescent moons she just knows boys remember for days. he’s respond to her silent challenge with a smile of his own; it was after those little moments she’d felt compelled to finally talk to him, but she’d never had the courage.

except for now. she untangles her long legs, straightens her back, and walks over to him with a confidence in her stride. “i’d like a warm cappuccino for here, please. and make it for yoona. im yoona.” it’s only after coming up so close to the male that she starts to to find his features startlingly familiar.

[247iya-blog]

@247jinah

two aftermaths arise within her mind as to how this anonymous meeting will turn out: she will either meet the long-lost cousin she’s supposedly always had, or im yoona will be kidnapped and die a most likely torturous death.

truly, from the deepest parts of her heart and mind, the dark-haired female believes that the latter of the two options is the more plausible one. purely because she could not believe that her parents had kept such a giant -- literally giant, as in an entire familial lineage giant -- secret from her for the entirety of her twenty three birthdays.

except she’d heard word of her parents’ reaction to receiving the envelope in the mail. her sister had lavished her with the devastation it had caused, and irregardless of minha’s tendencies to embellish her tales, her description had seemed far too out of character of her parents to pique yoona’s overly-curious brain. there had been a near-fainting spell from her mother, a pallid, ghostly expression from her father, and then the letter was ripped mercilessly into shreds and hurtled into the trash. big mistake, because minha had snatched the little tatters right up and stashed them in her room for safekeeping. the day after, when yoona had come over, she had recanted the entire story, giving her the reassembled letter and telling her to see for herself.

before she’d totally known what she was doing, she and minha were penning a reply, accepting their invitation to meet, marking down a date and place. “this way, yoona, at least i’ll know where you are when you don’t come back to your apartment for four days and the police get all suspicious.”

so here she is, sitting at a coffee shop in the centre of seoul, nursing a cappuccino in her hands. it nears the time that she had set for her and her mysterious ‘family member’ to meet. she hopes that they do not show. she wouldn’t quite know how to react if someone really did.

[247iya-blog]

 @seunghyun247

the cafe is gratuitously packed. it is teeming with so many people yoona’s shoulders are brushing others’ bodies and her feet are being stepped on underneath the heels of unapologetic strangers. her eyes are wide with disbelief; it’s a goddamn tuesday in the early afternoon, and yet she is unable to find a seat? all she’d wanted to do today was catch up on the paperwork that’d been piling up on her computer; her boss was adamant that it be finished by midnight tonight, so she had prepared herself for an arduous evening wedged away in some corner until her eyes were rimmed red, her veins were caffeinated, and her work was done.

steeling herself, yoona uses her lanky stature to slink into an empty booth, ignoring the dirty looks a young couple sends her way (first come, first serve, assholes, she wants to seethe victoriously at them). fumbling with her tote, she brings out her trusty old laptop and begins sorting through the papers. all is well until her screen flashes “LOW BATTERY” and she curses up a storm underneath her breath. frantically, yoona scours the cafe for a plug, where -- there!

“well, shit.” the only available plug was at a table already occupied by a lone stranger. a lone stranger with an empty chair across from him. normally, yoona wouldn’t even think about it (she is awkward enough in normal situations without purposefully inserting herself into them), but she’s blowing through her work and she’d like to get this done before her fourth cup of coffee, so it is with a heavy heart that she stands up and shuffles over to the table (the couple she’d shafted before runs towards her now-free booth with a loud ‘whoop!’). “hi,” yoona says with a terse-lipped smile to the man she is now sitting across from her. “i’m sorry, this is awkward, but i really need that plug, so if it’s not a bother, i’ll be sitting here. is that okay?”

[247iya-blog]

@247saeryun

she has reached new depths of self-pity, she thinks. pity, twisted together with loathing, garnished very generously with copious amounts of heated, raw embarrassment – that would be the most accurate recanting of her feelings towards herself at the moment. yoona can feel the heat of her shame now, clawing upwards from the cavity where her heart used to be (it’s all shrivelled and dying now, probably from aforementioned shame); trying to make its way to her cheeks and forehead and to the tip of her nose, where they will burst forth with blooming roses of bright rouge, making her look like she’d played around with too much red blush. she is trying, very hard, not to let her emotions win over her head in this battle, barely managing to maintain the blasé demeanor she’s been exuding, even though her smile to the waitress with the sympathetic but amused eyes is a little bit too tight-lipped to be natural.

and why shouldn’t she be amused? she’s been catering to a single woman who’s been sitting at a table reserved for two for ten goddamn minutes now. a woman who’d come in buzzing with nervous energy and palpable excitement, holding off on everything except water because “oh, my date’ll be here soon, we can just order together”.

yes, if she were the waitress, yoona would be amused as well. unfortunately for her, she was instead the woman at the table sitting all by her lonesome for nearly a quarter of an hour now, beginning to admit to herself that maybe, just maybe, she’d been (oh god, she can’t even say it it’s so tragic) – stood up.

( and she’d so been looking forward to this as well - a pleasant, enjoyable, non-monotonous night - she was such a tragedy. )

fingertips have shredded her napkin into tiny, pathetic strips onto her empty plate. she debates asking for another one – then debates asking for a strong gin and tonic – and then just debates leaving –

( the couple beside her is trying to subtly point her out. the female of the two is blatantly laughing, the asshole. )

and then, suddenly, graciously, a body is sliding smoothly into the seat across her, and a deep, strangely familiar voice is exclaiming apologies heard throughout the entire restaurant. yoona tilts her chin up, ready to unleash the furious, mortified beast within her, until she catches sight of the man’s face.

well. this isn’t her date. unless oh saeryun was somehow the twenty five year old “nice junior bank associate” her dad was talking about.

( somehow, though, she doubts it. )

“what are you doing?”