Work Text:
Soojin is in her last year of college the first time she cuts her hair short. It's a split-second decison, coming off the tail-end of a strange episode of staring blankly into a mirror instead of writing an essay about a movie she didn't watch for the European cinema class she hates. One second she's in her bedroom, the next she's in her kitchen rifling around for scissors. The next she's back in front of the mirror, hacking away.
When she's done, she feels like a lunatic. There's hair everywhere: the carpet, the vanity table, her lap, her shoulders, the back of her neck. It's in her mouth, too, tickling at the roof of her mouth and making her feel seconds away from gagging. She doesn't know what look the Soojin of ten minutes ago was going for, but she knows it wasn't this: an uneven, shaggy, overgrown-looking mop that sticks out at odd angles. Part of her is in awe of how light her head feels now. Most of her feels like crying.
When Jungkook was 4, he'd decided to play barber with a pair of safety scissors. Soojin had been home sick from school that day with what is still the worst cold she's ever experienced. She remembers going along with their mother to pick Jungkook up from daycare, sniffling pathetically from behind a mask that was too big for her nine-year-old face. Jungkook's eyes were massive as the teacher explained to their mom her son's new avant-garde look in a voice that sounded desperately pacifying. He'd burst into tears the second they left the building, wailing into the leg of their bewildered mother's trousers. Soojin understands now, looking at her reflection.
She ends up calling Yoonji, who picks Soojin up and drives her to her and Namjoon's apartment at what must be at least one in the morning on a wednesday night, because Yoonji is a saint and an angel and the best friend Soojin will ever have. She's still a little teary-eyed in the car, not quite trusting her voice not to wobble if she says anything. Yoonji doesn't ask. Not about the crying, not about the hair. She'll let Soojin talk when she's ready. She gets it. She's been there before, or at least she's been somewhere nearby.
They drive in silence, save for the mellow lo-fi rap album playing at low volume over the stereo in Yoonji's car. It's familiar, a song Soojin has heard before, because it's Namjoon's. It's a mixtape he recorded a few months ago, a present for Yoonji just because. They're sweet that way. Steady. Soojin sometimes feels overwhelmed by the soft, easy domesticity that comes with being around those two. It used to freak her out, make her feel intrusive, like she was perpetually walking in on something just by occupying the same space as them. These days it's comforting. It's comforting to be let into their space, to be allowed into their apartment and their lives and their quiet, unrelenting affection.
After they arrive and Yoonji has adequately surveyed the damage to Soojin's hair, she puts her hands on her hips and nods at Soojin with that matter-of-fact confidence that comes out either when she's very sure of her abilities or totally bullshitting. Hopefully the former.
"I can fix this," she says, carding her fingers through the hair at the base of Soojin's neck.
"Thanks, Yoonji-yah," Soojin says, surprised at the relief she feels, "Sorry I woke you up for this."
She's sitting on a bar stool in the mint green tiled bathroom, wearing a Ryan-printed beach towel as a makeshift cape while Yoonji rifles through the cabinet below the sink presumably for scissors.
" We were awake anyway."
Soojin nods. While Yoonji works she monitors the progress as well as she can in the bathroom mirror. Yoonji is good at this. She's been doing her own hair since high school, and when she and Namjoon moved in together she started doing his to cut costs. Soojin trusts her, just like she trusts her in almost every aspect of their friendship. Still, there's a tugging in her gut every time she catches her reflection, not quite nerves, not quite excitement.
Namjoon wanders in at some point, looking disheveled and unshaven. He blinks sleepily at the girls from behind his thick perscription glasses.
"Hi noona," he greets Soojin casually. As if his girlfriend commandeering their bathroom to give their friend a haircut in the wee hours of the morning is a perfectly normal occurrence.
"Go to sleep, dummy," Yoonji says, swatting in his general direction while snipping dangerously close to Soojin's ear, "I'm trying to concentrate and you have class at nine tomorrow."
"Cute towel, Namjoonie," Soojin says, gesturing as best she can to the towel draped over her without getting hair clippings everywhere. Namjoon smiles sheepishly, dimples on full display. If Soojin had more use of her arms right now she'd want to reach up and poke them. It's been weeks since she's hung out with Namjoon and Yoonji. She hadn't really realized how much she'd missed them, their warmth, their safety.
"Unnie," Yoonji pouts, "quit moving around. I'll cut your nose off."
Soojin gives Yoonji an angelic look and repositions herself so she's sitting on her hands. Yoonji nods in approval and goes back to work.
When she's finished, she carefully removes the beach towel and shakes it off over the bathtub ("I'll deal with that tomorrow probably") and steps aside to let Soojin see the result.
She scrutinizes her reflection for what feels like ages. What used to be her horribly overgrown bangs have been kept long enough to sweep to the side and out of her face, but short enough that she can't quite tuck it behind her ears. The back, too, is long enough to run her fingers through, long enough to be visible when she looks at herself head-on. It looks... stylish. Intentional. Like this is what she's supposed to look like. She looks like herself. It's an unfamiliar feeling, looking in the mirror and feeling like she's looking at herself. She likes it.
"You look like an idol," Yoonji says. Soojin's ears burn slightly, and Yoonji laughs at her for it, which only makes her ears go redder.
"I think I like it," Soojin admits, feeling around at the nape of her neck, turning her head left and right, up and down, admiring the new style from every angle.
"I don't get this," Jungkook says.
"Get what?" Soojin asks, uselessly swatting at the wrinkled front of a skirt that hasn't seen daylight in almost three years. She makes a face and turns around, "How's this one?"
Jungkook makes a nearly identical face at the offending garment and shakes his head no for what feels like the hundredth time. Soojin sighs and strips the skirt off, tossing it unceremoniously onto the top of a growing pile of discarded clothing in the corner of the bedroom. All three of the dresses she owns are already in the pile, along with four rarely-worn blouses, and a pair of corduroy pants that Soojin actually does wear but were rejected on the basis of it being mid-July. She's rapidly losing patience with this entire process, and she's starting to regret ever agreeing to this date. Maybe she should just cancel. She could message the girl and tell her she suddenly fell violently ill, throw on sweats, and spend the rest of the evening eating reheated jjajangmyeon and watching old episodes of One Piece with Jungkook. She lets herself imagine it for a few minutes before reminding herself what a dick move that would be, and how shitty she'd feel about going through with it. Besides, Jungkook has classes to study for and she's supposed to be a good influence on him. She sighs in resignation and goes back to scrutinizing the remains of her closet.
"I don't get why you can't just dress the way you always do," Jungkook explains, "You're just going to a movie. She won't even be looking at you most of the time."
"Because it's a date?" It's obvious. Jungkook is so naive about these things, she thinks, and his ideas about love and relationships still air on the side of idealistic. She stares down one of her less-stained work shirts before deciding to at least give it a try. It's a simple, off-white button down patterned with tiny white paper airplanes. She'd bought it from the men's section specifically as a work shirt a few months ago when Kihyun decided to start actually enforcing the No T-shirts rule in the company dress code. (She gets compliments when she wears it, so it gets a lot of wear.)
She actually feels hopeful as she buttons it up, as opposed to the vague despair and dread she's been experiencing for the past hour. She lets Jungkook get a good look.
"You might want to put on some pants."
"No," Soojin deadpans. There's a split second where Jungkook's eyes go completely round in bewilderment before he realizes she's messing with him. He pouts at her and she shoots him a goofy grin.
"I think jeans would be ok with this," She muses, "since it's got a collar and shit."
When she's finally dressed and satisfied with her outfit, she's surprised by how good she feels. The more she looks, the more she likes it. It's comfortable, but not sloppy, like she put in effort but still looks effortless.
"I think," she announces to Jungkook, "I've got it."
She strikes an exaggerated pose, which succeeds in making him giggle.
"You look very handsome, noona," He laughs, flashing two thumbs up.
Handsome. It catches her off guard. She can't tell if Jungkook is saying it as a joke, or to pacify her, or if it's genuine. Knowing him, it could be a bit of all three. Still, it sticks in her head.
Soojin has always known in some capacity that she's attractive. She's no stranger to compliments. Relatives and family friends tell her she's lucky to have such good genes; Her parents are both so naturally good-looking, and she's the spitting image of her mother when she was Soojin's age. (Not the eyebrows, of course. her aunt Sohee said once, Those are all your father's doing.) Her friends in middle school would practically ogle at her, jealousy painfully clear in the way they'd half-whine, Soojinnieee, you're so prettyyyy.
In sixth grade, her friend Eunae had lamented, I'll never get a boy to like me if I'm always hanging out with Soojin. They only ever look at her. She had felt so guilty then, but now she laughs at the irony of it.
She gets compliments at work, too. (Most of the time, they come from kind older ladies who smile sweetly at her as she hands them their drinks. Occasionally, they come from grown men who must be twice her age, leaving her pissed off and uncomfortably aware of how she holds herself and the space she occupies. She wonders if they do it because she looks interested, or like she could be interested. She wonders if it's her hair, or the way she dresses, or her voice; If they'd leave her alone if she changed those things. When she brought it up to Yoonji, she said men are just like that. She's probably right.)
Usually the word people use is something along the lines of pretty. Soojin doesn't mind that. It's never really meant a lot to her though, to be told she's pretty.
Handsome is different, though. She doesn't think she's ever been called handsome before, but she finds herself wanting to be called it again.
"How are you better at this than me?" Hobi whines, winded, "I'm a dancer!"
Soojin cackles triumphantly at her third consecutive DDR victory while her girlfriend sits dejectedly atop her side of the platform, fanning herself uselessly with her own hat. They're both drenched in sweat and breathing heavily from exertion. Soojin doesn't need a mirror to know that her hair must look horrendous and her face is definitely bright red. She squats like a frog next to Hobi and chuckles at the look on her face. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is turned down at the corners, open slightly. Soojin giggles and pats Hobi's head affectionately.
"You know this game is like, not even a little bit related to whether or not you're good at dancing, right?" She tells her, playing absent-mindedly with Hobi's hear. God, she's cute.
Hobi shudders suddenly, her whole body tensing up for a second before going slack again.
"You okay?" Soojin asks.
"Yeah. You know when you have a big bead of sweat slide between your boobs?"
Soojin snorts, then looks at her girlfriend's face. She looks genuinely curious, which makes Soojin lose whatever composure she'd had before, because she can't help but laugh in earnest.
"Don't laugh at me! I'm serious!" Hobi is laughing too, clinging to Soojin's shoulders for stability because for all the control she has over her body when she dances, she loses it completely when she laughs. Soojin sighs happily and wraps her arms around Hobi, peppering her face with kisses.
Hobi is different from anyone else Soojin has ever dated. Or met, for that matter. She teaches dance at a performing arts program for lgbt youth. she dresses like if the word California was a person. She's clueless about makeup, but her skincare routine is so involved it might actually qualify as witchcraft. Her smile is shaped like an actual heart, and probably has the power to make flowers spontaneously bloom. She's so loud with all of her emotions that when they're together Soojin isn't ashamed to be loud with hers too.
She's also the first butch girl Soojin's ever met. It had been intimidating at first, to see someone so confident in the exact thing that Soojin feels so unsure of herself in. Hobi doesn't justify her appearance, she doesn't need to. She doesn't owe anyone an explanation, it's just her. On their first date, Soojin had floundered. She couldn't shake the feeling of being under a microscope, like Hobi was scrutinizing everything she did and said, creating an itemized list of all the ways she was a fraud. She barely remembers most of what she'd said, too distracted by thinking about how badly she was failing to impress the hottest person she'd ever seen.
She'd nearly thrown her phone across her bedroom when Hobi messaged her that night asking about a second date.
Soojin is getting better about that, about only seeing herself in comparison to the people around her. She's trying not to keep herself inside her head so much, to open the door and let herself walk around. Letting herself be seen instead of just looking.
She's learning, too, that tricking herself into confidence is as easy as faking it. It starts as a joke, a way to make Jungkook laugh and Yoonji annoyed and Namjoon flustered. She calls herself handsome, winks at her friends, blows kisses just to throw them off balance. Hobi plays into it by exaggeratedly checking her out, and Soojin laughs and preens and then makes goofy faces while Hobi pulls her in by the waist and kisses her until they're both giggling uncontrollably.
There are still days when she looks unfamiliar to herself, feels outside her own body, only sees herself as a collection of things that don't match up right. Her hips are too wide, her legs are too gangly. She feels awkward and unwieldy. But those days are less frequent than they used to be, back in college, when her own appearance felt alien. Most of the time she sees herself in the mirror, and most of the time she's happy with that.