Work Text:
“So, this is the last box?” Jungeun tapes the top and edges, careful to prevent from creasing the duct tape. Popping the top off the sharpie, she writes “DISHES – FRAGILE” in large block letters, an up arrow drawn on the side. Jinsol adds a quick little doodle with her own blue sharpie. It’s a rather lumpy fish, the fins overdrawn and misshapen.
“Yeah, think so.” Jinsol says, adding a speech bubble to her previous drawing with the warning
Don’t break them!
“Cool. Thanks for helping me pack up.”
The blond shrugs. “It’s the least I can do since you’re the one moving out.”
Jungeun chuckles. “Real. You should have at least let me take the rice cooker – it’s expensive, and you can’t even cook.”
Jinsol sticks her tongue out teasingly. “You got the sofa, shut up. Besides, it’s time for me to finally learn.”
“Don’t burn the house down.” Jungeun scoffs, shouldering the elder teasingly. Jinsol responds with a bump of her fist against Jungeun’s shoulder and an exaggerated eye roll. “I’ll do my best.”
They giggle for a little bit, letting the air still naturally. Neither are sure who starts first, but suddenly they’re smiling. Jinsol has a little scar on her forehead between her eyebrows that Jungeun noticed the first time she had woken up next to the blond years ago, and Jungeun a little mole, almost invisible, near the base of her ear that Jinsol had liked to kiss – they’re little secrets kept hidden from the rest of the world, gone unnoticed by most.
Jungeun starts humming a tune, some random pop song that played on the radio on the drive over, and soon Jinsol starts harmonizing to the bits of chorus she recognizes. The random trills and runs she adds don’t make any sense, and soon Jungeun starts busting out her own terrible rap bits so divergent from the original that Jinsol eventually ends up rolling on the floor in stitches from laughing so hard.
(It’s only when Jinsol lands on her back, staring up at the white ceiling with her arms outstretched that she realizes how much space there is in their –
her
– apartment.)
“You didn’t forget about the books, right?” Jinsol calls from the floor, still looking up at the ceiling. Her pointer finger is outstretched, counting the number of weird lumpy white things that dot the expansive white. Jungeun follows her gaze, amused.
(She would think after four years of being together that she would get used to Jinsol and her antics, but they still manage to entertain her.)
“Which ones? I took most of my college shit already. Who knew textbooks could weigh so much.”
Jinsol quirks a brow, stopping midway to gape at her. “You
kept
them? We graduated like years ago, why would you
keep
anything besides our diplomas?”
Jungeun ignores the way “our” slips so normally from both their tongues. “Listen, unlike you, I was planning on selling them instead of burning our money. Those things cost a fortune you know.”
“Yeah,” Jinsol smirks, “But they made great kindling for that bonfire.”
“This is why I refused to leave you alone with Hyunjin and Sooyoung. Bad decisions, all the time.”
Jinsol swings herself into a sitting position, back gracefully arching off the ground as she turns towards Jungeun. Cross-legged like a child waiting for the permission of a teacher, Jungeun only has to raise a single brow in silent consent before Jinsol animatedly waves her hands, launching into a story of why the bonfire was “super epic” and also “kind of dangerous – like, I’m pretty sure I lost almost three centimeters of my hair from getting too close, but it was definitely worth it!”
She scoffs – lovingly so.
Had this been in the past, Jinsol would have tackled her to the ground, tickling an apology for the joking mockery. If this were the past, Jungeun would have wrestled her down because she was always stronger than Jinsol despite their height difference. And then Jinsol would have pouted and given her that stupidly cute puppy eye face until she was fully appeased with the promise of snacks, kisses, or both.
The routine is achingly familiar.
(Jinsol knows from the gleam in Jungeun’s eyes that she’s thinking the same thing.)
But this time, they’re left sitting across from each other. Jinsol with her fly-away bangs sticking whichever direction, and Jungeun with her arms crossed endearingly so. Neither broach the distance, however, neither are brave enough to cut the tension either.
It was hard at first, to stop touching each other; physical affection had replaced their emotional attachment long ago, filling the void of the inevitable. But it was still a sadistically nice reminder of what they had. Jungeun, surprisingly, had found it harder than Jinsol, despite the latter having been the one to initiate majority of the affection when they had been together.
It had taken months and a drunken breakdown before they could walk beside one another without either reaching for the other’s hand.
(
“You never hug me first, you know.”
“Jinsol, you know I’m bad at PDA.”
“Yeah, but I wish you would still try.”)
They’re okay now though, sort of.
Jinsol keeps her distance, allowing only the crinkle of her eyes to openly display any affection. They can’t start again – they don’t want to start again – and she knows by the way Jungeun softly sighs her way into a smile that she’s also content with what they have now.
“Well, I’m going to check around the place once more.” Jungeun raises her arms, stretching the ache from her shoulders and back. Jinsol lets her eyes trail down the attractive line of her neck and jaw, soaking in the details; she remembers peppering the same place with kisses whenever Jungeun had come back, upset at whatever and in need of attention. There’s a place where her neck dips, right below her jawline, that makes her squirm especially hard – Jinsol had definitely used it to her advantage more than once.
(
“You’re sweaty, get away.”
“But I look hot, right?”
“… Shut up.”
“Heh. Knew it.”
)
“You checking me out?”
Jungeun watches as Jinsol shakes her head, sheepishly grinning. “Maybe?”
“Well, feel free.” She laughs, rolling her neck to get the extra cricks out before standing. “I still remember how you tripped over yourself at Haseul’s party because you were too busy staring to catch the beer can.”
Jinsol sputters, a random stream of words leaving her lips in embarrassment. “Stoppp,” she whines, dragging out the last vowel as she pouts, one corner of her lip raised higher than the other. “You look hot in red, what was I supposed to do?
Not
stare?”
“Uh, yeah, you creep.” Jungeun laughs again.
“I still remember how you got so nervous trying to kiss me that one time you crashed into my teeth and almost chipped my front tooth!”
This time it’s Jungeun’s turn to flush. Red traverses up her neck and cheek until they reach the tip of her ears. That had been a particular source of embarrassment, one that Jungeun clearly remembers.
She had tried to catch the blond off guard in a suave move under the moonlight after a particularly romantic walk for their first kiss but had horribly miscalculated. Instead of planting her lips firmly onto Jinsol’s, the other decided to talk at the exact at that moment, resulting in teeth bashing together and a floored blond covering her mouth as they both screamed in pain.
Yeah, definitely not one of her best moments.
(But a fond memory still.)
“Shut up! It was partly your fault too, since you started to talk about your betta fish. Who does that on a date?”
Jinsol mocks horror, gasping as she clutches her chest. “You will not talk about Dory – may she rest in peace – that way! She did not die for this sort of slander.”
“You literally overfed her.”
“The instructions clearly said four times a day. They didn’t specify that I wasn’t supposed to feed her four
bottles
a day.”
“I… God, I hope whoever you date next can read, because you clearly can’t.”
Jinsol glares as threateningly as she can from the floor. (Jungeun thinks its more cute than terrifying, but she’ll let her have it.)
“I’m glad you’re leaving, at least now I won’t have to endure all your nagging. You were such a bully to me, you know,” Jinsol falls flat once again, legs kicking inthe air for dramatic flair. “I leave a shirt out on the couch after dance rehearsal once and get chewed out for three hours because of your neat-freak personality.”
A snort. “And that’s why we don’t have roaches for pets unlike a certain someone.”
“You leave Yerimmie alone! She’s not even here, she can’t defend herself!”
“She wouldn’t have to if she just cleaned up.” Jinsol can’t argue against that. Her place was pretty messy, though she’d argue that having a certain Park Chaewon and Son Hyejoo as roommates that only ordered in and hardly saw sunlight were not conducive to having a clean flat.
“Talking about cleaning up, wanna order chicken for a job well done? I have some beer in the fridge.” Jinsol grins, fingers already playing with her phone as she opens it up, ready to speed dial her favorite fried chicken store. Hesitation flickers on Jungeun’s face.
“Uh,” Jungeun bites her lower lip. Jinsol feels her own confidence waver, suddenly remembering the last time they had decided to get a ‘friendly’ dinner at her place.
The combination of unsaid feelings coupled with alcohol had made for explosive words, hurtful ones that still stayed carved deep in her heart. Sure, it may have ended in some amazing angry sex, but the scars they left stayed much longer than the physical scratches down her back. It had taken months to patch over, and she can tell from the way Jungeun nervously chews her lower lip that the ache still persisted in her.
(Jungeun, despite her tough exterior, was the one who cried at the end of all those sappy movies they watched during date nights after all. It shouldn’t be surprising that the words still stung – Jinsol admits she was especially cruel that night.)
Jungeun catches the apology on Jinsol’s eyes and stops before they can be aired. “I promised Jiwoo I’d meet her for dinner tonight. Maybe sometime later?”
“Okay.” Jinsol breathes a sigh of relief, loud enough for the other to hear. She pockets her phone. “Yeah. Maybe later.”
“Anyways, let me check once more. Can you check your room for me?”
“Aye-aye captain. Meet you back in five.” Jungeun can’t stop the smile from forming as Jinsol gives a cheesy salute.
They tour different parts of the apartment. The kitchen is neat and tidy, minimalistic as Jungeun had taken most of the cooking supplies – Jinsol had insisted, saying that she wouldn’t cook anyways so there was no point in having the items since they only took up space. A lone rice cooker sits to the side, stuck awkwardly between the fridge and microwave. It’s nice, expensive, and relatively high-tech, but she had agreed to give it to Jinsol since it was one of the only things she could use without burning the whole place down.
Adjacent to the kitchen is the bathroom, cramped and crowded, with the toilet and shower being in the same location. Jinsol’s using a different set of shampoo and conditioner now, the floral scent replaced with citrus; it’s sharp, but works well for her sunny disposition. The sink is definitely less crowded, the toothbrush holder nailed to the wall hanging crooked as only one of its two holes were filled.
Their shared bedroom, Jinsol’s now, is also cleared. The sheets had been replaced a long while ago, the wardrobe and closet emptied. Jinsol had been careful to parse through all of the items – it was hard differentiating what belonged to who as they tended to share clothes, and coupled the emotional difficulties attached, the task had been incredibly overwhelming. But she had somehow completed the chore (though with the help of multiple bottles of wine, drunken crying, and comforting friends). Now the closet remained sparse, all her items fitting without threatening to explode.
It’s a little lonely, but at least she can find her shirts now without having to dig through a hundred of Jungeun’s first.
“I think we got everything.” Jinsol heads back to the living room. Jungeun is present, a single box and some other miscellaneous items stacked near the door.
“Yeah, I think so too.” Jungeun smiles, sweet and sad at the same time. Her eyes glance around the familiar apartment, taking in the sights. Maybe she would be back here someday, able to enter without feeling the twinge of uncertainty in her heart – maybe someday the place will feel nostalgic instead. She lets her gaze wander a little before meeting Jinsol’s once more.
They’re a beautiful shade of brown. Jungeun’s always liked Jinsol’s eyes.
Jinsol breathes in through her nostrils, chest heavy. “So, this is it.”
A car honks in the background. Probably Jiwoo with Vivi’s car signaling her presence.
Jungeun nods. “Yeah.”
They gaze at each other once more. They fell in love, were in love, and eventually fell out of love, but they still cared for one another. Words unspoken weigh heavily in the air – apologies, regrets, wishes, promises of a future where maybe they could have been together. Reality, however, is not as forgiving and though desperation would have led them further along the same path, perhaps it was better they separate now. They are a perpendicular in each other’s life, meeting at a crossroad and passing more so than parallels that walked in tandem for perpetuity.
Jinsol is too ambitious, Jungeun too aloof. Their fights were painful and harsh, their words venomous.
Yet they had loved and were loved.
The car honks once more, impatient.
Jungeun looks unperturbed. “I’ll be down in a second!”
“Want me to help?” Jinsol says, more out of kindness. She knows what the answer will be.
Jungeun shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. I got it.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah. Let’s hang out with everyone sometime?”
Jinsol chuckles, “Sounds good. Have fun at dinner.”
“Thanks, you have fun… doing whatever, I guess?” Jungeun stalls once more, a smile teetering bashful playing on her beautiful face as she gives Jinsol one last look. “Hey, um, thanks. For everything. I gotta go now, but um –“
Jinsol waves her off, replying with her own timid grin. Jungeun was always bad at expressing herself, but she’s had years of practice to learn to understand. “Yeah. Me too. Thanks, I mean.”
“Bye.” Jungeun waves.
Jinsol waves back “Bye.”
The door clicks closed.
--
(
“I love you.”
“… I love you, too.”
)
One day, they’ll be okay.