dream high

yoon nami; 17, year two, baek ho legacy initiate; future president of the republic of korea 

[yfxnami-blog]

— little black dress.

[kgxsungil-deactivated20240109]

“are you looking for something for the cheongryong party?”

[yfxnami-blog]

It was practically embarrassing, simply standing here before him. Her jeans fit her well, but her plain t-shirt was no match for his cooly assembled outfit. Even with something so simple on, he looked ten thousand times more composed. She shifted her weight from one leg to another nervously, unsure of how to work through this situation. It wasn’t very often she ran into her classmates in a setting like this. She often chose to shop online, buying the same thing in three different colors just to simplify her life.  Her laugh comes off more like a goat’s bleat at his remark, knowing full well that it was true. This wasn’t anything like where she shopped from, from the confines of her dorm room and laptop. He must have been a mind reader, or well... Everyone knew about Cheongryong’s upcoming party, and anyone that was someone was going. Being a Baek Ho initiate, Nami was apparently someone, albeit a rather underdressed someone.  “Yes,” she replied hesitantly. She weighed her options; leave the store and avoid Sungil for the rest of her life, grab the first thing she could lay her hands on, ignore the price and just buy it, or... “Actually,” she said, the control center in her brain fizzing as she spoke impromptuly, “Could you help me find something?” She had had every intention of getting away from him as quick as possible, but she couldn’t deny the fact that she needed help, the kind that couldn’t be found in a library book. “Since you’re so fashionable,” she noted, figuring that buttering him up couldn’t hurt her cause.”

[yfxnami-blog]

— smooth criminal.

[yfxjihoon-blog]

“wonderful. call it what you want, but i’ll call it what i want too.” he swiftly takes the bookbag from her hands, slinging it across a shoulder. he takes a few strides away from her and towards the library exit before stopping and motioning for her to follow suit. glancing back at her, a teasing grin dances upon his lips. “so, yoon nami… do you do this often – going on dates? ah, sorry. i meant, having “casual meals with a peer”.

[yfxnami-blog]

She wondered how much that million dollar smile had cost him, his bright teeth practically blinding Nami through her glasses. She ought to have turned him down, really, she should have. But the words of her father echoed in her head, calling her an uptight old woman. Uptight old women didn’t have dates casual meals with a peer, did they now? “Fine,” she agrees, taken aback by his taking of her things from her. Her shoulders and back feel so bare without the weight of her backpack, which is probably better for her back. She considers asking for it back, but concedes at the thought that those muscles he had had to be good for something. She follows him, albeit a bit hesitantly behind.  She isn’t sure about the way he says her name, half liking the sound of it from her mouth and half disbelieving that it was coming from his mouth in a sentence that asked something other than to copy homework. “...No,” she responds, “I prefer formal meetings when discussing academic affairs, and other than that, hanging out with peers is a money trap.” The words leave her mouth before she can think about them, and she quickly tries to recover from her horridly pretentious sounding response, “I mean- Sometimes- I date, well, no. No, I don’t have time between school... and school.” Smooth, Nami, smooth.

[yfxnami-blog]

— the archives.

[xyfkoo-deactivated20161205]

and now that he’s awake he’s managed to trip someone, make their glasses fly across the room, they probably hurt their knees, and now it look like he’s going to cry. 

frantically, he gets back to her with the pair of glasses and hands it to her slowly and with two hands. “i’m so sorry about that, are you okay?” 

[yfxnami-blog]

Nami hadn’t really watched a ton of cartoons growing up, but one she did particularly enjoy was Scooby Doo, even if the bad guy was always the stingy old dude at the end. She had a particular affinity to Velma, who often lost her glasses. Nami, like the short-haired cartoon character, had a tendency to lose her spectacles. And the biggest problem was always, you need your glasses to find your glasses. It was a paradox, and a tragic one to fall into if one were as near-sighted as Yoon Nami. As for falling, as a track runner, she was rather used to tripping over air. So this time, when she had fallen over a legitimate object, she was more concerned for the object than herself. He wasn’t lying around with the good book, like Nami often did, and certainly couldn’t blame him for had he been doing that. Dusting herself off, with the help of this curious stranger, she graciously takes her glasses from him, blinking until the image of him peering at her becomes crystal clear. Her knees feel sore, but she’s fit enough to take it like a champ.  Despite her being the one who had just toppled over, the stranger before her looked much more emotional. She clears her throat before quietly responding, make sure her voice is low enough so no staff member came nosying around, “I’m fine. But...” She pauses for a second, before hesitantly asking, “What are you doing here?”

[kgxsungil-deactivated20240109]

some like it hot.

he shuts the door behind him, and steps closer, touching her shoulder tentatively. “are you okay?”

[yfxnami-blog]

The terrible feeling in her gut was the exact reason she never did anything like this. Except, she was doing this. The material of the dress they had picked out the other day clung to her, something she felt extremely conscious of from the moment she had stepped through the door of this party. Unsteadily on heels was how she spent the beginning of her wild ride, most people not even recognizing her. She hadn’t meant to drink at all, much less this much. Then again, she had had every intention of not losing Sungil but that idea had dissipated about five seconds after coming to the party. Friends, she had said, when discussing the idea of coming together. More like a life line.  Heaving a few times, she couldn’t bring herself to empty the contents of her stomach. Her head was spinning and the rather spacious bathroom felt a lot smaller than it was. She can feel his hand on her bare shoulder, prompting her to raise her head to look in the mirror. Her hair is down, framing her made up face. There’s no doubt why so many people barely recognized her. The person staring back at her didn’t even feel like her. She sighs, her eyes fixed on the hand on her shoulder within her reflection. “This was a terrible idea,” she groans, raising her hands to rub her temples.

[yfxnami-blog]

— the archives.

The library was Nami’s first home, her actual home her second, and the dorm room she was the only occupant was easily last. Her routine was predictable, even in the summer time. Wake up, morning routine, and then head over to the library to hide away amongst the stacks of books to read as many books as she could. Today was no different than any other day, her sneakers on her feet and her dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She had waved a silent hello to the librarian, like she had been doing for almost all the days over the summer vacation. She had taken a liking towards historical fiction, her idea of downtime during vacation. The fantasy captured in the pages of these books, they were Nami’s getaway. Her head was thinking about what else to read as she walked down the aisles of books, trying to find a nice place to settle down for the day. Though her head was usually clear and her direction focused, summer had made her... chill. Well, as chill as Yoon Nami could be. Head in the clouds, she was only half paying attention to her feet as her eyes zoned in on the titles of the books on the shelves, hoping something would stick out. She was so distracted that she hadn’t realized there was something blocking her path until she had tripped over that something. She tumbled onto the plush carpet, her arms breaking her little fall and her glasses slipping off her face, before realizing that that something that she had just tripped over was a someone.  

[yfxnami-blog]

— little black dress.

[kgxsungil-deactivated20240109]

he crosses his arms over his chest, stepping behind her so he’s within the frame of the mirror as well. “that dress is the wrong style for you.”

[yfxnami-blog]

She could see why people who had the means hired stylists. Picking out clothes that not only looked good, but garments that suited her was a process Nami was finding incredibly difficult. She knew what she had in her hands wouldn’t work, but she wasn’t sure why or what would. Trigonometry was much easier than clothing shopping, she was finding. Her typical style of boxy, oversized sweaters and two alternating pairs of jeans was nowhere to be seen in this shop. She was so focused on scrutinizing her appearance that she hadn’t realized someone had stepped into her reflection. Her hands fumbled with the hanger as the voice sounded behind her. She recognized the fellow second year in the mirror, Choi Sungil. They weren’t exactly friends, not that anyone for Nami was, but he had apparently recognized her and hadn’t avoided her so they sure weren’t strangers. She quickly and rather guiltily hung the dress back up behind her, feeling as if she had erred terribly by even holding the dress up against her, before turning to him. “Um,” she began, her arms awkwardly at her side after giving him a stiff wave hello, “Fancy seeing you here.”

[yfxnami-blog]

— unwind.

[yfxiseul-blog]

She brushed past reaching leaves, but before taking a seat she continued towards the neat counter further away. Iseul placed one cup on the tray and turned to look at the young woman, simultaneously brushing a stray stand of hair behind her hair. It was impossible to perfectly tie your hair up, and anything else was witchcraft. Which she fully endorsed, of course – who didn’t get all tingly at the idea of witchcraft? Just Iseul? Oh, well. “Before we start, do you want some tea? Any type you especially like?” Her manicured fingers were hovering over a second cup behind her, ready to add it if necessary. No session was complete without a cup of tea, and that must be the only healthy habit she had picked up. 

[yfxnami-blog]

She found solace in the counselor’s warm demeanor, then again, Nami supposed she had to be. They probably wouldn’t hire stone cold hearted individuals for a job like this. Glad, she had said, very much so the opposite of how Nami felt about having to come to her office. She took a seat on the nearest couch; spine straight, legs together, taking up as little space as possible. Her hands only moved from her lap to push the wire frames of her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She mentally went through any possible reason she could have been sent her before concluding that most initiates were probably having a hard time, as it was the middle of the year. Fortunately, her initiation process hadn’t been too difficult thus far, so she figured she’d be in and out of here. She could see the counselor moving, but she was too shy to let her eyes follow her. Instead, they wandered around the room, studying the green-ness of it. The room probably had a high content of oxygen, with all these plants. Her thoughts trailed off until she heard the woman speak, her head moving so that her eyes caught the counselor’s.  Tea, smart choice. It was caffeinated and wouldn’t put anyone to sleep, but was still soothing. This lady really knew her stuff. “No, thank you,” Nami declined politely, “I won’t be here long anyway.” 

[yfxnami-blog]

— smooth criminal.

[yfxjihoon-blog]

for some reason her verbal response amuses him greatly, and he replies with a light shrug as he pulls out the chair opposite her. why is it that he feel like she’s indirectly questioning his intelligence? he takes a seat, placing his hands on the table with fingers interlocked. “ah, you’re right – but i’m not trying to score a tutoring session,” he replies nonchalantly. he reaches forward to gently shut closed the book in front of her. “i’m trying to score a date.”

[yfxnami-blog]

He was the kind of boy Taylor Swift wrote her songs about, not that Nami kept up with all the affairs of the American singer. Girls like her didn’t get guys like him chatting them up. Besides, she figured, she had been studying practically all day. Illogical thoughts flooded her brain, something her father had said about how she should act more like a kid her age and have some fun, and at the time it had sounded like nonsense but now everything seemed to be clear. Really, how much more studying could she get done in the time she could be spending with him. It was too bad she didn’t have a best friend like in the movies, who could talk her out of this situation, this very obviously tricky situation that probably wasn’t going to end well at all. Any and all rational thinking was being overridden by thoughts about that goddamn smile. He closes her book, and she lets him, some of the tension caught in her shoulders easing as all the words disappear from in front of her. Her hands find themselves drumming on the closed book anxiously, her desire to go colliding with her brain telling her that he was probably up to no good. What could go wrong in a meal? A lot of things, really, but Nami pushed those thoughts out of her head as she found herself replying, “A date? Today’s date is July 22nd.” It was supposed to be a joke, and boy, it sure was a bad one. She was sure the headlines tomorrow would say something along the lines of, Yoon Nami, presumed robot with no capacity for emotion, cracks a joke.  He had already gotten her to laugh in the library, something she had practically never done before, and now he had her cracking jokes? “Fine,” she found herself saying, pulling the book in front of her into her backpack along with the coffee drink he had brought as in offering. Though pretty much every bone in her body was telling her this was a bad idea, she went along anyway. “But it’s not a date. It’s a casual meal with a peer.” Sure, she’d go along, but she had enough sense to maintain a bit of distance, after all, someone who looked as good as he did wouldn’t be pressing on so hard to go out with her without wanting something in return.

[yfxnami-blog]

— little black dress.

There was a science behind fashion; the material, the shapes, the silhouettes. It all came together in a manner that should be comprehensible if one broke it down logically. The thing was, if there was one thing Nami was bad at, it was fashion. Keeping up with trends was much more difficult than keeping up with political events, and Nami, for the life of her, could not figure out what color was the new black. Which was why she was in one of Hongdae’s many, many clothing shops, trying to figure out what she should wear to the upcoming Baek Ho and Cheong Ryong events. Initiation hadn’t been too heavy on her for the first half of her second year, but parties of any kind or sort were not her strong suit. She didn’t like them, and they didn’t like her. She knew she probably wasn’t going to go down in the books for doing anything crazy, so she figured she could at least show up decently dressed. Her mindset regarding clothes was relatively simple; affordable, durable, and if it’s the same piece in multiple colors, she’ll buy it. Her mother had been funneling money into an account in her name as allowance, one of the few motherly thing she had done for Nami, yet the money remained relatively untouched. She figured, if she hadn’t inherited Miss Korea’s sense of style, she could at least use some of her money to buy decent clothes.  Nothing seemed to make sense, and honestly, Nami felt too embarrassed to ask the salesgirl for advice. The girl at the counter seemed way more interested in her phone than Nami, who was a fish out of water as she went through the racks of clothing. Her hand fell upon a dress, plain black, nothing too crazy, and she pulled it out, holding it against her body as she scrutinized her reflection in a nearby mirror, wondering if it was Cheong Ryong party material.

[yfxnami-blog]

— smooth criminal.

[yfxjihoon-blog]

“actually wait – you can help me with something.” he leans in noticeably closer, gaze entreating. “can i treat you to dinner?” he tilts his head ever so slightly as he awaits her response. god damn, there’s no way she’d actually fall for this, right?

[yfxnami-blog]

There’s this inexplicable feeling that surges through her as he smiles like that. She finds her serious demeanor melting, only to catch herself internally tripping over his honey coated words. Love is a neurochemical con job, she reminded herself. He was attractive, and the way he carries himself; smooth, flowing like water, like everything came easy to him, coming up to someone he didn’t know and saying words like those. She knew, in her t-shirt and jeans wearing self, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose that it was only in movies that someone like him came up to her “pretty self.”  She knew he was trouble. Perhaps it was her years of fending off a nonexistent line of people who wanted her that kept her resilient, only the pink creeping to her cheeks giving her away. She wonders, for a moment, what he could possibly be doing here. The only thing she could think of was an assignment for the summer, or else why would anyone hole themselves up in the library of all places the first weekend of summer vacation? Anyone but herself, of course. Yet, her eyes are transfixed on his. She’s sure he can hear her heart pounding, even louder as he leans in. There’s no way this was real. There’s not way he was real. His invitation to dinner catches her so off guard, she actually laughs out loud. It has to be a joke, she thinks as she quickly quiets herself down in fear of being kicked out of the library. “You know,” she says after regaining composure, “You don’t have to wine and dine me to get tutoring.” 

[yfxnami-blog]

— unwind.

The only other time Nami had been sent to a guidance counselor’s office was when they had been making Mother’s Day cards in the fifth grade and she had written her mother a formal letter thanking her for giving birth to her. She probably could have been hired by a business to do formal correspondence for them, but the school had taken Nami’s straightforward letter to be alarming. Once her father showed up, explaining their family situation, Nami had been sent to the library for the rest of the day, away from the other kids who were cheerfully making cards for their mothers. It was safe to say she was a bit worried when she had received a formal notice, marking an appointment for her to see a guidance counselor. Was it because she barely left her dorm room or the library in her free time? She diligently made it to track meets and debate club meetings, figuring it was enough of a social life for her. Maybe it was about another student, she thought, her mind trailing down several different paths as she made her way to the designated office. She was eager to get this over with, not that she had anywhere else to be. She knocked on the door once, faintly. And then again, a bit louder before receiving vocal confirmation to come in. She tentatively pushed open the door, her presence small as she stepped into what had to be a makeshift greenhouse.

[yfxnami-blog]

— hero complex.

Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. That’s what Elle Woods had said in Legally Blonde. For a member of the track team, Nami certainly got enough exercise. She supposed she was happy enough, enjoying the feeling of the wind as her body moved to run around Sunhwa’s campus. Classes were over in the morning, and Nami was, as always, caught up with her work. Feeling this free during the middle of the day was a new feeling, and she had decided to go on a run. Since she didn’t listen to music while running, she could make out the sound of her heart beating in her chest as the bottom of her sneakers hit the pavement.  Her calves buzzed as she jogged past a group of students probably going out to have fun, whatever that was. She only stopped to stretch once she was well past them. There was a small part of her that wished someone had called her up, texted her makeshift plans, with nothing but a loose invitation to an afternoon of mindless fun; something she had read about many times. Yet, the rest of her knew she was better off not roaming the streets or wasting money on overpriced coffee. Who needed coffee or air conditioned cafes when you could cool down in the sinks on the edge of campus? As she jogged slowly towards just outside campus , her eye caught a figure whose head seemed to be dipped into the sinks. Maybe he had the same idea as her, to cool down in the summer heat. Yet, something seemed off. That person’s head was under the water for way too long. Either, they had developed fish like gills or they weren’t planning on sticking around for the rest of Spirit Week. She didn’t realize that her body had decided to run towards the figure, whose head was still submerged under the water, her small hands pulling at the person’s shirt before she realized what she was doing.

[yfxnami-blog]

[yfxnami-blog]

yoon nami; 윤나미

“try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value.” — albert einstein

[yfxnami-blog]

yoon nami; 윤나미

“try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value.” — albert einstein

[girlgroupsdaily]

© vryl

[yfxnami-blog]

— home.

Nami truly dreaded group projects, especially in home economics. Most of the kids in class were used to having pretty much having everything taken care of for them throughout their cushy lives. Not that Nami grew up poor, but she definitely wasn’t living the kind of lifestyle that these kids were living. Things like debate presentations and reports she could handle, but cooking when her partner barely knew how to turn on a stove, much less boil water was truly exasperating. She knew that most of these kids would go onto head large corporations, but they probably would never learn how to sew on buttons to their cashmere sweaters. They probably threw them out if they found a hole in something, rather than fixing it. There were definitely people who were competent here, but Nami never had the fortune of being paired up with one of those people. She always held her breath when the teacher assigned pairings, and it was safe to say that home economics wasn’t exactly her favorite class due purely to the amount of group projects. “Yoon Nami,” the teacher called, her ears alert as she waited for the name of her partner to be called, “Son Shownu.” She hadn’t worked with this person before, thus she could only offer a little nod as the eyes of her partner-to-be met with hers. After class wrapped up, the paired students chatting up with each other, Nami simply told her partner to meet in the dining hall after he was done with classes before rushing off to her next class. The project had been in the back of her mind for the rest of the day, but there nonetheless. She had already planned something out for it, figuring she’d end up doing most of the work anyway. To her surprise, once she arrived in the dining hall, she spotted Shownu already there. He was probably eager to get this over with, she figured. Taking a seat across from him, she began speaking quickly, her words rehearsed as she often found herself saying the same thing each time she was stuck doing a group project, “Don’t worry, I can take care of this. Just make sure we meet up so I can show you the finished project.”

[yfxnami-blog]

style.

yoon nami, despite being the child of a former miss korea, definitely does not have the style to show it. she prefers simplicity over anything else, but does note that there is importance in dressed reasonably well, especially in korean society. one thing always remains consistent in her appearance; her wire rimmed glasses. probably from late nights reading with only her bedside lamp, nami’s vision isn’t the best. without them, she’s rendered to a blurred world (exhibit a). when not in school uniform, she often dresses in pullovers and jeans (exhibit a, exhibit b). with the weather being warmer, she’s inclined to switch out her pullovers for plain t-shirts and jeans with shorts (don’t count on them being too short, however). the closest thing to a heel you’re going to see on her is a professional shoe with a bit of a wedge, despite her height. debate meets draw out the business casual side of her closet, blazers and harper pants galore. to catch her in a dress, however, is a rare sight.