vigilant, virtuous, vivacious.

If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking. - 村上 春樹 (Murakami Haruki)

[yewonbn-blog]

things have changed for me.

[isserlley-deactivated20230110]

( ...)

following the usual order of things, she immediately contradicts herself by doing just that; taking up her card from her card holder, holding it triumphantly between her index and middle finger.

“what do you drink?”

[yewonbn-blog]

It's a serious effort for Yewon not to heave a sigh of relief just at gaining acknowledgment, nevermind an answer. She traces her finger around the edge of her glass as this girl plays along, nervous to be talking with a complete stranger, but nonetheless glad to have gained some sort of escape from the situation. The aforementioned skeezy guy, seeing that he is being ignored, grumbles, goes away. Yewon beams so brightly that the lights overhead, flashing, multicoloured, seem to reflect off her smile.

"I mean, like, my boyfriend doesn't make the decisions," she says, going forward with the conversation. "That's dumb, right? But he gets a little whiny when I go out like this. Boys are like that. Maybe I should just dump him and get it over with." Interesting -- Oh Yewon pretending to be someone else. A concept foreign to her. "And I have no idea what I'm drinking, but the bartender does, and I kind of trust him." Truth be told, she had been more than content to continue adding her drinks to her fake friends' tab as an effort at revenge, but honestly? Revenge is taking poison, expecting someone else to die, at least in this respect.

She studies the girl before her for a long moment, eyes fixed on her even as Yewon lifts the glass to her mouth. Beautiful, but not classically so. Perfect hair. That sleepy-eyed look which Yewon only gets just right after an all-nighter or two, fueled by caffeine. In short: she's envious, but in a more specific way than just 'she's pretty and I'm not', something on which she can't quite put her finger.

"For what it's worth," says Yewon after finishing her sweet and sour and bitter whatever it is, "it totally matters what you think. You look like a trendsetter."

[westernhaiku]

Visit Original Link

22 (OVER S∞∞N) | Bon Iver | 22 A Million

There I find you marked in constellation  There isn’t ceiling in our garden And then I draw an ear on you So I can speak into the silence It might be over soon

[yewonbn-blog]

poise and rationality.

[cnskyeo]

( ... )

              “But what’s your favorite book ever?” he then hit her with, his head cocking to the side. She had listed a few books but he wondered what her favorite was, because he might have to go check it out from the library or something. “I have a night job that practically speaks boredom, so I really want something to keep me busy while I’m sitting around after I beat solitaire about five times.”

[yewonbn-blog]

Yewon is happy to see Kyeo relax, a deep wave of contentment washing over her, as if this situation is finally one that she can trust (as if it hadn't been before, as if somehow this adorable human being sitting just ten feet away from her had been a threat until this very moment). A writer, an artist, a lover of books -- these are the people that shall inherit the earth, as far as she's concerned, so of the people she knows in her life, she and Kyeo will be some of the rulers of the new order. She realises a little too late as he prods her with questions that she's probably rambling on a bit too long, and shouldn't, but she can't help herself -- he started it, as far as she's concerned.

Satisfied that he outright agrees with her, she listens to him with fascination -- anyone speaking on the writing process will always catch her attention in a way that cannot be explained; it's the same with those who make music, or art. Whether it's because she cannot do these things herself (or maybe she can; she's never tried) or not, she does not know; the only fact of which she is aware is that she's seen dozens of authors speak, and none of them have been quite so impassioned as Kyeo is. "I can imagine how difficult it might be for you to focus," she tells him, sympathetic, "with all these people running in and out of a place like this all day. Do you ever find the need to go somewhere...quieter? Maybe not home, just somewhere else."

She looks over her shoulder, as if someone's going to chide her for asking. (Maybe it's because she asks every author she meets this question.) But then she glances back at Kyeo, folds her hands neatly in her lap, leaning in very close to him, unaware of the concept of personal space as she inches forward, closing the small gap between them. "Do you ever put people you know into your books? And do they know? And do you think it puts those people into a box, if you do?"

Ah, but then he asks the quintessential question, and she recoils as if a hot flame has been held up to her person. "My favourite novel..." She looks at the front door, watches a patron enter, shaking, obviously needing a hit of caffeine. She'd forgotten her own coffee until this very moment, and gasps at the realisation. (An expert at self-distraction, Oh Yewon.) "Um, hold on, I'm not leaving, just thinking about it." God, what is her favourite novel? Nothing she's read recently -- Murakami (Ryu and Haruki both, she realises as she skirts around some guy's extended leg and goes to the counter, snatching up her now-cool cup) had been too depressing but on opposite ends of the sadness spectrum, the nonfiction on Nagasaki real enough to bring on nightmares, the travelogue on India she's working on now interesting but travelogues aren't her favourite genre by far...

Ah, and then she remembers, and it catches her off guard, but she remembers all the same: the books with which she'd grown up, the fantasy novels she and Chiwon read together not long after The Accident, the reason as to why she'd gotten so into literature in the first place. When she retakes her seat facing Kyeo, she's got the biggest smile on her face.

"My three favourite novels are all Neil Gaiman," she tells him, crossing one leg over one another and taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee, which, at this point, tastes nothing like she’d hoped it would when she ordered it some twenty minutes ago. "American Gods, Stardust, and Neverwhere.” She smiles in that way she usually does when she’s got a secret hidden under her belt. “What’s your favourite novel, Kyeo-ssi?"

[shinxjj-blog]

Smoke Again

( ... )

“Your turn to take care of the paperwork, Captain” One of his men told him with a laugh, since he had lost a bet and he was in charge of doing the boring job. “Nothing to worry about, it’s under control” Shin said through his radio, sighing. “What happened here?” He asked to who he assumed was the owner as he walked in, looking around to see if there was really no threat of fire.

[yewonbn-blog]

So. Yewon has burned something. Again. And the evidence, this time, is all over the apartment. Again. And the fire alarm is still ringing in her ears even as she watches with wide eyes as firefighters storm the stairwell, march into her tiny apartment, try to assess the damage. She cannot believe -- cannot believe! -- that she'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table, her book the only thing cradling her head as she'd flopped over. This happens often, just not when she's making herself a super-late breakfast after an all-nighter. Usually her lecture halls are the best spots for an accidental nap.

This? Not so much.

She keeps watching, silent, mortified. The fire is mostly contained; she'd only called in a panic, unsure as to what to do in case the damage was more permanent than it seemed. (The damage is most definitely permanent, judging solely by the scorch marks that strike solidly up the wall behind the stove; she and her brother will not be receiving their security deposit back when it comes time for them to move elsewhere.)

An older man -- obviously a senior, judging by the way everyone else seems to treat him with respect and humour -- approaches her, all his gear on, and the seriousness of the situation hits her again. Firemen. In full gear. The entire building could have gone up in flames and it would have been all her fault. Nevermind the apartment, she can hear her brother saying already, I'm just glad you're alive. Nevermind her own life, she tells herself in a solemn way, she's just glad she woke up in time enough to save everyone else.

"Um, I was..." She trails off, tears burning at her eyes, a heat she's never experienced before coming to her cheeks. "I was studying, and trying to make ramyun, and I fell asleep, and...I woke up and the stove was on fire." She scrubs at her nicely-lined eyes with the back of her hand, suddenly uncaring as to whether or not she messes up her makeup.

[yewonbn-blog]

uh-oh, spaghetti-o...

[kwonhaes-deactivated20180821]

( ... )

he snorts, still unamused at her joke and takes a quick selfie in the comfort of his bedroom. he doubts there’s a camera watching him with disapprobation right now, and sends the snap quickly in case she decides to zoom off.

( sc  → ??? ) my name is kwon haesoo, yewon ssi. please use it instead of dick pick guy.

[yewonbn-blog]

Yewon sips at her coffee, phone open, screen unlocked, sitting on the table before her. She's half-tempted to take out a novel, give herself entertainment between the spurts of conversation that this stranger is throwing her way; she's got a copy of The Folly of the World stacked inbetween all her research material, gathered over the course of the past week. An English version. The version. Maybe she's just patently aware of the people around her, wants them to be impressed.

Why, she doesn't know. Apparently the only thing she needs in order to make herself feel good in regards to the people around her is a hint of over-proficiency. Not to mention, she's already proven her superiority to someone once today. She's waiting for him to message her.

She's just reaching into the backpack slung over the back of her chair when her phone sounds off, and she abandons her task almost immediately. Lifting her phone, she checks the photo -- he looks vaguely familiar, though she can't place exactly why that is -- and laughs at the message, opening a chat, tired of showing off how cute she looks today (she doesn't, but a good dose of self-confidence never hurt anyone).

[ sc → ??? ] kwon haesoo... i'll remember that, and web search you later. [ sc → ??? ] i think we're past yewon-ssi, though, don't you?

Of course, she lied; she searches him the moment she's done writing to him, and apparently he's some sort of supermodel? Strange, she supposes, how one can look so average but so good in clothes, with lighting and lots of makeup. In any case, she feels he looks much better with something covering that mess between his legs, and wants to tell him as much. Instead, though, she reopens the chat, intent on teasing him at least a little more, her interest sparked once again just by the sheer fact of knowing his name, having an idea as to who he is.

[ sc → ??? ] kwon haesoo, what are you doing right now? tell me you put clothes on

[yewonbn-blog]

air.

[kim-dojoon-blog]

( ... )

Usually small children and elders stay after to chat him up. Having a young lady do so Is a bit flattering to say the least. But Dojoon doesn’t really pay too much mind to it. A music lover is a music lover. He’s happy to share what he loves with everyone.

“Do you want to hear another song?”

[yewonbn-blog]

As always, Yewon expects fully to be brushed aside, doesn't really expect kindness from anyone she doesn't know, but he is more than accommodating. She had felt this reaction coming from his kind eyes, yet braced herself for the opposite -- God, but she's a paranoid one. She feels silly, laughs softly despite herself, not in reaction to any of his particular questions but rather at the fact that she can't seem to trust any stranger she doesn't need at that exact moment.

"I like it a lot," she mumbles through her teeth-rich smile, hands fidgeting in her lap. "Your voice is so lovely."

As he moves his set around, money stuffed into pockets, guitar stowed away, she feels a little bit more of that heartache drip, drip, dripping into her chest, despite the fact that she watches him with just as much fascination as she did when he was still playing. She wants to implore him to stop, to keep playing, to never cease supplying her with the calm, fuzzy around the edges, she had felt. But instead she listens, intent, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, chewing at it with an anxiety she can't explain.

"You should definitely get something to eat," she points out, grin returning even as she's ignoring the gnawing in her stomach, reminding her that she needs to do the same, that five-hour cram sessions fueled by coffee and a desire for superiority aren't the healthiest way of maintaining oneself. "And...and I think it's really nice of you, to try and lift peoples' spirits. It's kind. I thought you were kind from the moment I heard you." She points over her shoulder, indicating where she had been just a little while prior. "You definitely made my day."

He peppers her with questions just as she had done to him, and that dread drip-drops down her ribcage once more. "I'm, um, I'm just a university student. I'm majoring in Literature." Despite her nervousness, her chest puffs up, ready in advance to discuss all the books she's been reading lately, not just for class but for fun as well. "I get to take a lot of courses with foreign language reading requirements, so I guess you could say...I don't get to hear music that often. Unless you count me turning pages in a book every few minutes."

And then he offers to play, just for her, and her heart swells, all those negative emotions suddenly dissipating, bubbling in her chest until they float away, effervescent. She doesn't know what she could possibly ask of him, doesn't know what song would best suit his voice, doesn't know what he knows, but still...

"I absolutely would love that," she tells him, confident as she's been this whole time.

[quotemadness]

When we are collecting books, we are collecting happiness.

Vincent Starrett (via quotemadness)

[yewonbn-blog]

poise and rationality.

[cnskyeo]

( ... )

              Maybe he was talking too much, or maybe not even enough, but he was still talking, and this stranger now fan somehow made him feel a little comfortable. Before friends, boyfriends, people, all he had was writing, and that was what brought him to where he was today. With a finger pressed to his chin, he asked, “What other good novels have you read?”

[yewonbn-blog]

She hates to be burdensome, but Yewon absolutely can't walk away from this encounter without something to show for it. Busan might be small enough to ensure that she'll run into the people she doesn't want to, but it's also too big for her to guarantee that she'll see Key again. And she wants to see him, but...even this is an accident. The thought spirals around in her mind, making her face warm in ways it hasn't been in a moment or two at least, and for her to raise her gaze to his face and see what's obviously a sense of accomplishment all over it? That only makes her feel better, in the worst possible way.

She's about to hand him someone else's book, a copy of Murakami's Sputnik Sweetheart, when he seems to come up with a better alternative. When Key hands her a set of notes, handwritten, stapled together, gently curling at the corners, Yewon's jaw drops so far she swears it'll hit the floor before she gathers the courage to pick it up. Her heart skips at least three beats. She has to shift in her chair in order to pick up the stapled papers with the reverence she feels they deserve, cradles the packet to her chest, watching him with careful eyes, as if for some reason this is some sort of joke. "Thank you so, so, so much," she singsongs, breathless with voice cracking, so touched is she by this gesture of kindness from this man of whom she is in deep admiration.

At his self-deprecation, however, she sets her mouth into a serious line, brow furrowed in just that way that signifies disapproval in the most maternal of ways. She might be young, but she's definitely a parent at heart, a cheerleader in spirit. "I loved The King of Torts," she tells him, leaning in and speaking softly as if it's a secret between the pair of them. "I love a good tragic fall from fake good graces, you know what I mean? People skipping their way to the top and getting themselves knocked down. 'Pride goeth before the fall' and all that." She winks. "Not as much as I love The Chamber, might I add, 'cause like I said before...it really got me thinking. Do you think the change of scenery changed your writing, too?"

Key's question, while unexpected, does nothing to throw her off; she's more comfortable talking about books than she is pretty much anything else, can find more comfort in a familiar character than she can in most human beings around her. So she glances around, conspiratorial, and waggles her eyebrows. "I finished rereading Murakami Ryu's Coin Locker Babies last night, and The Secret History a couple nights before that." She sits up a little straighter, brushes her hair over her shoulder, grinning in that clandestine way that only reading puts over her. "Let's see...I read a nonfiction on large, improbable, and impactful events on history a couple weeks ago...and then there's my reading list for school..."

It shouldn't have to be said, but Oh Yewon very rarely finds a book she doesn't like.

[yewonbn-blog]

air.

[kim-dojoon-blog]

( ... )

By the end of his song, the sound of applause surrounded him, replacing his song. He stood up and gave a bow, before raising his hand to the nape of his naked.

“Thank you all for your support.” he hummed, before tilting his head down to the girl, “and thank you for listening since the start.”

[yewonbn-blog]

She listens, quiet, enrapt, fingers wrapped around the lid of her coffee cup but otherwise forgetting her drink, forgetting her walk, forgetting the purpose of this walk to the park entirely. She could be memorising chemical equations or something to that effect, but for reasons that are foreign even to her, she would much prefer the sounds of the acoustic guitar humming against her ears. Not to mention the calm-looking stranger, content in himself, playing for her pleasure. And everyone else's, it seems, a crowd starting to form around them.

Still, Yewon listens until the end is imminent.

As the show comes to a close, the crowd bundling up together behind her, Yewon gets the sense of...what is it? Melancholy? Dread? Somewhere between the two? She simply doesn't want this to be over, doesn't want his performance to be over, doesn't want his voice to stop. Her ears buzz with the low feeling of having just been occupied, and that sensation only intensifies as the audience surrounding the area applauds appreciatively. She smiles still, though it falls a fraction, awkward, unable to take all that sensory information in one spot at one time. She replays the chords he'd played in her head a few times; it brings her a calm she hasn't felt in some time.

He thanks her, and she flushes prettily, tucking her chin just an inch into the light scarf around her neck, keeping her jacket in place. "No, thank you," she says, wishing sorely that she had something to give him for his time and trouble. "I feel like I've heard your song before. Is it yours?" She doesn't mean to be rude, but she does have a tendency to get into the personal space of others, and this is no exception; she climbs up onto her knees, crawls the couple of feet to the bench before lifting herself onto it, one-handed, still cradling a half-empty coffee cup in the other.

Her hair slaps her in the face, and her face goes comically blank for a panicked moment; she crosses her legs at the ankle, peering at him with her lashes lowered, her smile having grown muted with the effort of joining him in his seat, turned quite inquisitive. "How long have you been doing this? Not...not playing, although I want to know that, too. But coming to the park." She tilts her head slightly, ready for his answer, shyness and chill colouring her still.

[yewonbn-blog]

poise and rationality.

[cnskyeo]

( ... )

              But Kyeo had already finished two-thirds of the book, so he knew what happened to that boy, and a smile was plaguing his lips as he thought about it. There was not always a happy ending - this one was no exception - but he would let Yewon think what she wanted until the book actually came out.

              “It probably won’t be done for at least a few more months. You’re probably familiar with how the writing and editing process goes…”

[yewonbn-blog]

Despite his protests to the contrary, Yewon still feels a little guilty for coming over and invading her private space. As someone who is often interrupted during long sessions of study in the library, or at the park, or even at home, time alone in which to work is extremely valuable. Time with which to take breaks even more so. If she loved an author, it was her duty, she felt, to give them the space they deserved, and never assault them in a coffee shop.

Yet, here she is, across from Yang Seongkyeo -- Key, she reminds herself with a sharp bite to the inside of her cheek -- and asking him questions that she actually earns answers to.

She listens intently as he speaks, hands cupped around her cheeks and knees burrowed in her knees. Before Key says anything, she knows whatever's going to come out is brilliant; she's known that for quite some time, and this was before ever stumbling upon him in the heart of Busan on a Thursday afternoon. But as he tells her what little he does -- and she is grateful for him sparing her the details, believe -- her eyes light up.

"It sounds incredible," she says in a hushed whisper. "I can't wait to read it." She lives with an artist, knows exactly how pushy it can seem to ask for details about a project that isn't finished, and keeps mum on that count. "God, I can't believe...I wish I had one of your books with me, I'd be even worse than I've already been and ask you to sign it for me." An eyebrow raised, she tacks on to the end, an afterthought: "But I'm sure that happens to you a lot, and can get annoying."

To her great shame and consternation, Yewon actually knows very little about the writing and editing process, not being a writer or editor herself -- at least not yet. She doesn't tell a lot of people this, hasn't even mentioned it to her own brother, but she has no idea what she's going to do with a degree in Literature, other than let it sit pretty on her wall. She does not say this to Key, though not out of a desire to keep mum on questions, but rather because she can't stand the idea of not being as smart as she seems, even to a stranger. "That's understandable," she tells him instead, "I'm sure it's a lot of work. In the meantime I'll just reread your other novels. Kind of win-win, if you ask me."

[yewonbn-blog]

my word for it.

[gcldengrl]

( ... ) 

Sunnie doesn’t even flinch at the accusation, because really, it’s fact. Fake is basically her second name, and it’s nothing that she’s ever attempted to keep hidden from others, either. It’s nothing to be proud of, but that can be said about the neverending list of habits and manners that she’s picked up in Seoul. If anything, it’s a relief that it’s only taken Yewon this long to figure it out. “Excellent observation! Is there anything else you’d like to add, or are you just going to leave it off there? Might as well let it all out while you have the chance; you’ve been on a roll so far.”

[yewonbn-blog]

Yewon is already stalking away, a good half dozen-paces' distance between herself and Sunnie, when she hears the claim that her old friend just didn't know what to say. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. "You didn't have to do what you did," is all she says, reaching down and pulling the strap of her bag higher up her shoulder. It is all she can do, because if she turns back the fight is going to get worse, but if she walks away, nothing is ever going to get better. Caught between a rock and a hard place, as always -- when did life get so complicated, anyway?

She knows she's not going to get away from this unscathed; just based on the course of the conversation thus far, she's going to have a lot to focus on tonight, when she goes home, cooks dinner, studies, tries to sleep, wakes up in the morning. She knows herself well enough, in fact, to know that this will consume her in some way or another, and yet she can't seem to stop talking. "I don't want to do this anymore," she hisses over her shoulder, a threat to herself just as much as to Sunnie behind her. "I really don't. Like I've said, I just wanted to say hello. But apparently the idea people in Seoul have of hello is completely different than mine, so I'm just leaving it alone."

Every inch of her wants to say more. She does not. She keeps walking.

"I said I was done, Kim Seoyeon. I said it a bunch of times. But you keep antagonising me, and it's not necessary. I'm done." She inhales, sharp, noisy, an audible attempt at gathering her courage. "See you around. Maybe it'll suck less next time." And it's not a promise, not a threat, just an inevitability; they might not have the same majors, or take the same classes, but Busan isn't as big as either of them would probably like, nor is their campus vast enough to keep them apart the rest of their schooling careers.

[yewonbn-blog]

things have changed for me.

( bnroyce! )

These reunion things have got to stop, Yewon decides, sipping on something sour and bitter and...sweet? She hadn't been the one to order it (but it was safe, she'd watched it made a little while ago and just not felt the need to finish it quickly). Regardless of the drink's origins, she kind of likes it. What she doesn't like is the fact that her fake high school friends, the ones she's denounced about twenty times since they've graduated and moved on to university, have invited her out to yet another of their pitiable attempts at socialising with one another, then immediately abandoned her. Like, immediately. Like, within half an hour of them arriving at this club. Yewon doesn't even like clubbing, doesn't know what possessed her to think this could be anything even remotely resembling entertaining.

She finishes the drink, still seated at the bar, a small crowd starting to form behind her in a motion to get themselves good and drunk for the evening. Someone elbows her in the back of the head and she thinks it's about time to get good and drunk herself. She shakes her drink at the bartender, who smiles at her amiably, fixes her another, yells something over the slow-build sound cloud behind the both of them about putting it on her friend's tab.

Revenge isn't her forte by any means, but hey, she'll take what she can get.

In the corner booth are her friends, schmoozing up to some gross-looking business professionals with bottles and bottles of champagne in buckets full of ice. Gross. It's not about Yewon not being into guys, although that's definitely a factor -- it's that she can't imagine herself stooping to that level just to not have to pay for a drink or two.

She's about three-quarters of the way through that particular train of thought when one of those business professional types sidles up to her, and Yewon is two-thirds not drunk enough to have the conversation he's trying to initiate with her, and has one-half a mind to pour his drink all over her face. She doesn't, though, instead turns to the pretty girl sitting next to her, smiling her brightest. "So, like, my boyfriend says this place is dead and that we need to find somewhere else to hang out." She has that pleading look to her face, she just knows it -- honour the girl code, she asks without asking, afraid to get more attention from this complete stranger than necessary. "What do you think? I like it alright, but there's way too many skeezy guys in here trying to talk to girls who clearly aren't single."

[quotemadness]

So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life’s a beautiful thing and there’s so much to smile about.

Marilyn Monroe (via

quotemadness

)

[yewonbn-blog]

uh-oh, spaghetti-o...

[kwonhaes-deactivated20180821]

( ... )

for a scary moment, he wonders whether she sent back a picture but is reassured when he’s greeted with a pouting face and the dog filter. haesoo finds himself amused without meaning to, and turns on the front camera to send a quick picture. yewon, as he finds out, doesn’t deserve to see a picture of him but she’s getting one anyways. 

( sc  → ??? ) yewon ssi, i hope you know your jokes aren’t funny.

[yewonbn-blog]

Yewon doesn't understand exactly what she's done to deserve all this sarcasm? Was he old? Had she given him some kind of coronary episode? He didn't look too old in the photos, at least in her (decidedly poor) estimation, but then again, his face had not been the focus of his photography. So maybe to guess his age is beside the point. In any case, she's absolutely not getting any work done, and this is growing more tiresome by the second. So she sighs, ignores him for a little bit, maybe waiting to see if doing so would cause him any annoyance.

When nothing comes in response, she figures she's already lost on that count. But hey, the lit exam she's going to take in -- she checks her phone -- ninety minutes is going to go really well, she thinks. Murmuring to herself about how she needs to get a coffee, she slips closed the cover on her text, returns it to the librarian (who gives her a smile that definitely reads "I can't believe you were screaming in a library earlier, Oh Yewon, I'm disappointed in you") and makes a quick beeline to the nearby coffee shop.

At the counter she flashes her tutor card, which gets her a free cup just for being there; it's just one a day, but it keeps her warm when she's far from home, and she's grateful for it. Even still, her mind is focused on the random assault to her eyeballs she's been spending the morning mourning. She doesn't even know this guy's name and yet knows what he looks like under his clothes.

So after an agonising wait for a cup of coffee with an extra shot of espresso, she takes a seat against the brightly-lit back wall, sets down her bag and her coffee, and takes out her phone. She probably looks a little better than she had in the library, anyway -- none too much glare off the tables -- and decides that the pause in their conversation had been worth it.

[ sc → ??? ] you didn't like my joke? ㅎㅎㅎ no fun for a guy who sends dick pics

[yewonbn-blog]

far too young to die.

( @bnaiden! )

Yewon doesn't even check the clock on her phone before dialing, is too busy frantically opening every window in the apartment to let out the smoke wafting through the air, is trying her best not to have a panic attack because she almost set the entire kitchen on fire. Way to go. She's upbraiding herself pretty heavily; if her legs worked the way they needed to, she'd probably take a literal stance on kicking herself in the ass over what she's done. The phone in her hand, pressed to her face, rings hollowly in her ear, and she sighs, feeling the heat of the apartment slowly filter out through the windows.

The smoke had made it a little difficult to breathe, dried up the back of her throat and made speaking almost impossible, so when she gets that familiar voicemail greeting, a robot but saying Aiden’s name, she doesn't really feel like talking and hangs up instead. It's important; she never calls anyone unless someone's dying. The perks of being part of the younger generation, she supposes, coughing a little, free hand over her mouth.

Except the pan in the sink is still smoking, the few ingredients she'd had laid out for a simple dinner for herself gone to waste, and there's not much more in the cabinets after she'd spent the remainder of her tutoring money today on supplies for a couple upcoming exams and copies of notes for her tutees. She has no idea what she's going to do, and the anxiety is starting to build up, and the thought of Chiwon coming home to a wrecked kitchen and nothing to eat after working for probably three days straight makes her feel like she's going to cry.

So she shoots a sink-or-swim call off into cyberspace instead, trying to breathe, to breathe, to breathe.

[ KKT → 哥 ] um, so, i set the kitchen on fire a little [ KKT → 哥 ] just a little it's not a big deal [ KKT → 哥 ] but uh... i don't know what to do?

Messages sent, she sits on the kitchen table, legs dangling, shaking anxiously, unsure as to whether or not she should have at least invited Aiden over. She snaps a photo of her tiny kitchen for the folks on Snapchat, knowing they'll adore her latest disaster. It's the closest thing to normalcy she can achieve right now.

Ah, her hand stings, tingling in a way she hadn’t noticed in the midst of what could almost have been termed a panic attack... she lifts it to her own face, examining her skin for potential burns, waiting.

[yewonbn-blog]

air.

( @bndojoon! )

A walk in the park is often a welcome distraction when Yewon is studying, she's found throughout her high school and university years. It gives her a chance to fully process through whatever she's working on -- biochemistry, in this case, something she definitely needs to take her time absorbing, despite her shame about the entire situation -- and breathe something other than stale library air, or the scent of burnt food that lingers around she and her brother's apartment. The brisk autumnal air, just slipping into season, feels good against her skin, even as she tugs her sweater about her tighter to protect against the chill. Her body thanks her for the movement, her mind for the distraction of dogs leading along their owners, of children playing and screaming happily in that way only children do, of...

Music? Yewon tilts her head and swears she hears the sound of someone strumming a guitar, none too close because she doesn't see the source, but none too far either... Her own lack of musical inclination has always drawn her toward anyone with that particular talent, so she follows the sound as best she can, trotting eagerly toward the gentle sounds of idle notes floating through the air. It filters in through the slowly-baring trees, slipping between shades of ochre and mulberry and scarlet to meet her ears, and she smiles, fingerless-gloved fingers fitting that much closer around her coffee cup from home.

When she reaches the source, it's a young -- well, older than her if her uneducated guess is worth anything, but still young -- man, kind eyes, focused ones, watching himself play in a sense, bent slightly over his instrument as he changes his finger placements against the frets. And she is utterly entranced soon as she's standing before him, wants to sing along with the song he's slowly plucking out even though her voice is trash and there aren't really any words. Plus, how weird would it be for her to just start singing someone else's song, especially someone she doesn't know? So instead she sits before him, feeling much the kindergartener waiting on a story, her neck craned, legs criss-crossed with coffee rested between them, her eyes alight in wonder, a giant smile plastered all across her face.

[yewonbn-blog]

my word for it.

[gcldengrl]

( ... )

She used to be sweet. The statement was almost a joke, enough of one that Sunnie’s attempts at holding back a laugh still end in her letting out a snort. Sure, maybe there was once a day where she was truly more tolerable, truly a positive person to be around, but it’s been blanked from her memories and long gone at this point. Part of her wants to fight back, mention that Yewon doesn’t know her now and probably didn’t even know her then, but the attempt at defense simply isn’t worth the trouble. No matter what she says or how much sense she makes, she’s still going to be irrational and at fault, so she might as well give good reason for the hatred towards her. All she has to offer is a half-hearted shrug, shaky hands folded across her chest in an attempt to keep them hidden, along with her emotions. God, she’s trying.

“Well, y’know. Acting is what I’m best at, so.”

[yewonbn-blog]

It suddenly occurs to Yewon that they are, in fact, in the middle of their university campus, in a very public spot, that Seoyeon isn't looking her best, that paparazzi could potentially be anywhere. It occurs that she's making a scene when she hadn't meant to say much of anything consequential in the first place. It occurs that she should be embarrassed. Except, funny story, she isn't. She never is when she needs to be. Even still, she finds a balance between seething and emotionally dead inside, applies it to this situation as quickly as she can, reaching up and scrubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes, drying her tears, unable to find it pertinent to cry in front of a stranger any longer.

"It's like I said, Seoyeon," she mumbles, dropping her hands and slapping herself softly in the upper thigh, "I didn't mean for this to happen. I saw you, and hadn't seen you in so long, and didn't know you were here." She's past the point of caring how she sounds, past the point of saving her pride, unable to bring herself to give half a damn whether or not this situation has a positive resolution or not. "I really, really did want to catch up. You were my best friend. You still could be. I don't know."

(A very, very private part of her knows that this is probably not the case, that they have both worked hard at destroying any chance they had of reviving a friendship. But there's still the chance that they'll see one another on campus, so to leave this unresolved would be worse than to acknowledge that destruction.)

Yewon reaches up with her still-damp hand, threads her fingers through her hair, trying to force some semblance of calm into her own body. She's shaking, trembling, quivering with anticipation at the next blow that Sunnie strikes, though she doesn't want to give her the chance. There are other points Yewon wants to make -- about how years of show business has made Seoyeon think that everyone wants something, that even someone she had known as a child couldn't possibly be innocent on that count; how apparently stardom has made her shallow, pedantic, pandering to whatever sympathy the public eye is capable of giving; how stupid it is that they're doing this out here where anyone can see them and report them to the tabloids.

She doesn't make a single one. She doesn't see the point in that, either.

"I just find it funny how..." Yewon's knees quaver under her, threaten to give out, but she stays grounded anyway, trying her best to keep from collapsing. "I find it funny how everything is my fault, here, when I've already told you that you blatantly disrespected something I've been through. Everything I've said has been in retaliation, nothing more, nothing less. And if that makes me childish, then I'll be childish, but at least we both know what you are." She smiles, forced, stuffing her hands into the hem of her oversized shirt and tugging at them subtly, wanting truly and honestly to rip everything in sight apart but not finding the strength or a decent rationalisation for doing so. "You're fake." Then she turns to go, knowing that resolution is rarely ever sweet, if met at all -- a lifetime of reading has taught her that much.