( sms - baby boy ) thank you!!! for disappearing on me last night ( sms - baby boy ) guess who got drunk and did things!!! ( sms - baby boy ) guess who is unfriending you on facebook
( sms → bbji ) A. you’re always doing things and getting drunk pls be more specific???
( sms → bbji ) B. i unfriended u last week already when u told me i had gordon ramsay hair
He’s sitting down, looking up at her as he licks the salt from his fingers and points at her in mockery. Kind of a symbolic habit of growing up with someone like Jisu. She was taller than him like, eight years ago, and she still rubs it in. As if it’d hurt. With a Pringles tube in his other hand, he smirks a little when she’s got the look going on.
( sms → bbji ) i’ve never greened out so hard what were in those brownies????
an angry text
( sms → bbji ) d id y
( sms → bbji ) ou fcKING
( sms → bbji ) throw UP IN MY SHOES??????????
a drunk text
( sms → bbji ) i kNOw w hen that hOTLING BLIN G
( sms → bbji ) i m hotLINg bl inging u picK up u r pho ne
( sms → bbji ) 911 dRAke st ole m mov es
a vague text
( sms → bbji ) maybe i do find him attractive maybe i don’t
a worried text
( sms → bbji ) look i’m all for strong women of the 21st century but can you not fucking kill yourself out on the field pls????
( sms → bbji ) i’m at the pharmacy what’s the cream called
a text not meant for you
( sms → bbji ) it’s not gay if it’s in a three way
a sassy text
( sms → bbji ) yes i know you remind me every chance you get
a long-winded confession text
( sms → bbji ) hey you know we’re cool right? i’m sorry i walked out the other day i was jst dealing w some trivial shit but i’m all yours from now on. promise. you’re a good friend, even though you act too cool for it i know you care you big softie.
( sms → bbji ) 😍 😍 😍
a misguided advice text
( sms → bbji ) just punch her in the fucking tits
a desperate text
( sms → bbji ) i threw out my meds and now i sort of feel like dying
( sms → bbji ) :^)
a congratulatory text
( sms → bbji ) OI OI OI!!!!
( sms → bbji ) i’m calling you yang ji-sung from now on
bright greens and yellows stained into the white cotton near the ankles of his calf-length socks. a splotch of muddied brown and purple bruised into a scraped patch on his right elbow. a dark drop of scarlet trickled between the baby blue threads embedding the activewear’s brand name into the top he wore. all colors familiarly decorated his slender frame with the majority of soccer practices and matches, but at least the reds had been his too. unlike today, where the blood falling from jisu’s nose had splattered onto his chest, upon the rogue ball’s impact against her face.
shit. and he wasn’t even that close to her.jaehyun’s long legs flew in front of him as he rushed towards the second year, an apology fluttering hurriedly from the tip of his tongue. uncanny, really, how he managed to injure her as soon as she said that. “ it isn’t shock from being called a woman, i wouldn’t — ” his fingers are quick to scramble closed around her wrist, gently pulling in order to somewhat stabilize her body, although immediately releasing in favor of not giving her the momentum needed to butt her head against his as revenge. wincing, his hand wavers in the air, unsure of where to settle or whether to wipe above her lips with the pad of a thumb, and his nose crinkles in indecision.
did this count? did the best woman win? snorting, he takes the hem of his shirt and brings it up to clear the liquid pooling on her cupid’s bow. “ congrats? ”yeah, it did count; he can’t win if he’s dead.
It’s like a game they play. Sometimes a thrilling game, sometimes just a playful, fooling around. Jiseul gets the idea that Jisu likes playing games more than she likes playing the actual game--soccer. From dainty and light fingers that trail up her thigh during stretches to knocking into her when stealing the ball, the other girl’s touch and blatant disregard for her personal space lights up alarms in Jiseul’s head every time.
If there’s one other thing besides science experiments that she finds more interesting, it’s soccer. And Jiseul doesn’t take soccer lightly. So every time her vice captain’s lip curls into a smug grin, she takes notice. A captain cannot afford to be distracted, especially when she has to train these first years to dominate the game well enough so Jiseul can graduate. But each sly grace of her skin, the brushing by the back of her hand, a loose arm that hangs on her shoulders, it all accumulates. The fire burns hotter, eating up oxygen inside her and Jiseul is clenching her fists, gritting her teeth as the last second ticks down.
There’s a happy twinkle in Jisu’s eyes when the vc meets her gaze. It has Jiseul gritting her teeth and flinging her shirt into the back of the locker in a mess. The girls in the locker room chat about the day’s trivial happenings at Sunhwa, but it’s noise that buzzes in the background under the angry rushing of her heartbeat in her ears.
Jiseul wants to kiss bruises into her pretty little pink lips.
The rest of the girls slowly make their goodbye greetings as they file out, but Jiseul characteristically, thank god, doesn’t bother to reply. When the last girl leaves and the two of them are left, there’s a moment of dead silence that hangs in the air. Jiseul stalks in light, fast strides with half her uniform on. Why bother considering what will go down in the next few seconds.
The third year roughly pushes the other’s shoulder. Her mouth forms a snarl, stepping in between her vice captain’s legs. “Are you trying to fuck me or fight me, Yang Jisu?” She holds the other girl in a firm grip, nails digging into the vc’s hip, fingers molding themselves into her shoulder. Jiseul meets her eyes with an intense stare.
The younger likes pouring oil onto the fire, and it has Jiseul just about burning everywhere.
