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The fifth sappy, cheesy romance song of the night echoes throughout the room, and Sooyoung thinks she’s just about had it. She slumps slightly, back onto the spiny metal chair, as Haseul and Vivi, brides of the night, somehow drag each other onto the dance floor, almost stumbling over their fluffy white dresses. Vivi places her arm on Haseul’s waist, just as Haseul’s hand tries to reach for the same arm to twirl her around. They look like a mess, a happy mess, but then again it is their night, so perhaps they can look however they want to look. Nothing could possibly ruin this moment for them.
Not that Sooyoung was looking to do so.
She turns back to her table, already tinted pink from the spilled rosé Jiwoo knocked over when Heejin walked over and asked her to dance. They weren’t dancing anymore—Sooyoung suspects they found a bush somewhere outside the venue—but that wasn’t the point, the point was that her glass of punch was now empty, Yerim had gone home early because she apparently had a test tomorrow but the truth was that Yeojin called her and sweet-talked her into coming home, Chaewon and Hyejoo were also on the dance floor, wrapped around each other in a delicate embrace, and okay, maybe it was the point, because despite Sooyoung’s ever-bounding willingness to play around and stay single, she couldn’t help but feel a little lonely.
Nothing a little alcohol-spiked punch couldn’t fix, though, so she shakily gets to her feet—these three inch heels Vivi made them all wear had really bad arch support, she thinks—and makes her way to the food and drinks area, at the other end of the room.
Somewhere on the way, Sooyoung’s destination changes. She’s not sure. The punch bowl was still in the realm of consideration, but the girl standing beside it was looking far more eye-catching, her bright blonde hair a beacon in the dark. No, literally—her hair was a bright thing within the line of her vision, which seemed to swirl occasionally, like bits inside of a kaleidoscope.
The image of the girl inches closer—her hair isn’t in one long sheet, Sooyoung sees, rather there are tiny braids woven into them, like… like what was that movie she watched with Jiwoo last summer? Lord of the Rings? Yeah, she has tiny braids in her hair, like insert-random-dude-here from Lord of the Rings. There’s also a glass of punch in her hand, the red of the liquid stark against the navy blue of her dress, and Sooyoung was terrifyingly sure that she was now fixating on all the different colors blonde-braid girl had on her, yellow, red, blue—
Blonde-braid girl catches her eye, and Sooyoung finally does trip, see? The heels have really bad arch support—
“Easy, there,” A voice cuts into her drunken stupor, and Sooyoung looks up to realize that blonde-braid girl was a lot closer than she’s anticipated, or perhaps she was really good at tripping long distance. “You’ll upstage the two girls making a mess of themselves on the dance floor.”
“Oh… them?” Sooyoung grins as she turns to watch Haseul and Vivi, who have wrangled themselves into something somewhat resembling a proper embrace. A large chunk of Haseul’s bun, or what used to be a bun, was now dangling on her back, but Sooyoung wisely chooses to overlook that. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen them look even worse. Somehow their two messes cancel out.”
“Vivi, a mess…” Blonde-braid girl raises an eyebrow. “I never would have guessed.”
“So you’re here as her guest, then?” Sooyoung looks cluelessly at her hands, trying to remember why she went over in the first place, then sees the punch bowl—oh—she stupidly left her glass back at the table, and there was no free container in sight. She copies the girl’s stance instead, leaning back on the wall next to the punch bowl.
“Yeah. My best friend and I met her at modeling camp every summer until we graduated. Kinda surprised she remembered to invite both of us.”
“And… is she here?”
“Her husband took her home. Just ten minutes ago, I think.”
“Didn’t offer to take you home as well?”
“I declined.”
“Man. Still not over her, huh?”
“I’m not over anything—hey!” Blonde-braid girl raises a hand, almost as though to slap her playfully, before realizing she has a drink in one hand, and that she barely even knew Sooyoung. “Anyway. I’m not that drunk. I can drive, hitch, whatever suits me.”
“Sure you can.”
“I’m not as drunk as you are, at least.” Blond-braid girl appraises her, and Sooyoung makes an attempt to stand a little straighter. It fails more than she’d hope was obvious. “You clearly were making a beeline for the punch bowl. What are you gonna do, lap it up from your palms?”
“It worked for cavemen, who’s to say I’m above them?” Sooyoung quips, and the girl lets out a single laugh.
“Want my drink?”
“Not really, but thanks.”
“Trying to sober up all of a sudden?”
“Your face is enough to sober me up.”
Silence washes over them as they absorb what was just said—Sooyoung, in particular, inwardly hits herself on the head. What was that about, Ha Sooyoung?! Sure, she’s cute, but that wasn’t appropriate at all—
“Want to dance?”
“Huh?” Sooyoung looks up to see her finishing off her glass of punch, plopping it down onto the table, and a sheepish smile on her face.
“I said, do you want to dance?”
It’s Sooyoung’s turn to laugh, although the idea was definitely appealing to her—slow song and all. “I sure hope you don’t think this will turn into anything serious.”
“I asked if you wanted to dance, not if you wanted to drive back to Vivi and Haseul’s wedding venue for an unexpected sequel.” Blonde-braid girl smiles—it is bright, reminding Sooyoung of her beacon comparison from before. “I need to make use of the liquid courage I just downed, and you can sober up by staring into my face while we try to beat the brides at who can look the messiest.”
Her hand is extended towards her, soft and white and while Sooyoung’s experienced being asked out to dance before, in parties both more and less extreme than this, she suspects that this will be one the more memorable ones yet.
“Two half-drunk and lonely upstarts trying to beat the brides at their own wedding? Sounds tempting.” Sooyoung finally takes the hand, and they head to the dance floor with surprisingly more grace than she anticipated did. “I’m Ha Sooyoung.”
“Jung Jinsol.” Jinsoul’s hands place themselves on Sooyoung’s shoulders, and Sooyoung’s arms end up on Jinsol’s waist, like some sort of magnet led them there. Their first few steps are shaky from the alcohol and the snickers and the heels with bad arch support, but Sooyoung somehow magically finds a groove that works for them, and what was once an amused grin on Jinsol’s face settles into something softer, more comforting—or at least as comforting as one can get when two strangers are slow dancing under dimmed lights and colorful strobe, making everything look unreal—
“Legolas!” Sooyoung suddenly exclaims, although not out loud to disrupt everybody, just shake Jinsol out of her reverie.
“Huh?”
“You look like Legolas,” Sooyoung explains, chuckling uneasily. “From that movie—“
“—I’ve seen it,” Jinsol tells her, and gratefully, the soft smile returns on her lips. “Dance it off, Gimli.”
“Will do,” Sooyoung pulls her infinitesimally closer as the fifth sappy, cheesy romance song ends and a sixth one begins.
· · ─────── · ─────── · ·
Sooyoung wakes up, a year later, with a braid in her mouth. She’s busy extricating from her lips when the person beside her stirs awake, and pulls the black, formerly blonde, strands away.
“Morning, swan song.”
“Morning—crap, 3 am?” Sooyoung frowns and repositions herself on the bed. “It’s neither morning nor night if you ask me.”
“If you say so,” Jinsol sits up and stretches a little. “Bad dream?”
“Uhuh. It was about the time we first met. If I only knew, I would’ve run for the hills.”
“Not if I chased you down first.” Jinsol lies back down, settling squarely against Sooyoung’s heart. “Dream about something else, then.”
A grin appears on Sooyoung’s lips, realizing how corny she was going to sound. “No need—my dream is right here.”
A single laugh emits from Jinsol, like the one from almost a year ago. “Sleep it off, Sooyoung.”
“Will do.”