Work Text:
Simply put: Yunjin was the perfect daughter.
Refined. Proper. Dutiful. Yunjin was all these things as her parents raised her to be, as they intended her to be. She'd been doted on borderline insufferably since she was young so that she'd be molded into the fine young woman that she was today. To her parents, she was perfect. A beautiful, pristine white canvas. They weren't going to let anything stain her. Or anyone.
But Yunjin had other plans.
• • •
They met, usually, during nightfall.
She'd end her routine, bask in the applause of the audience as the last note escaped her graceful lips, her hands catching her baton and waving it in a final pose, and disappear behind the curtains before anyone could catch her leaving. She goes behind the building, cuts through the back alleyway until finally, she sees the wooden entrance to the hidden pub. When she reaches the place, she hears mic feedback.
She blends in with the crowd, hiding her face with a hoodie, and watches from the back as the next act takes the stage.
When she sees her she smiles.
Xinyan is the sun personified when performing. A ball of heat, loud and passionate. She's the center of the solar system and everyone watching are simply the planets that orbit her, entranced and compelled. Drawn to her music. Drawn to her. She is the brightest star she can touch.
"You made it!" Xinyan spots her after her set, sweat gleaming on her forehead. The strobelights paint her blue, purple, yellow. "Didn't think 'ya would."
"And miss that performance?" Yunjin gravitates towards her, a planet still, landing a kiss on her cheek. Even with sweat she doesn't think twice. "Never."
"You're too sweet, princess," she calls her, chuckling loudly, "But I'd hate for you to get caught."
Yunjin's smile fades immediately. "Let's not think about that now."
"Your parents will be looking for you. Are looking for you. You're their precious little Yunjin."
"Can't I be your precious little Yunjin?" she asks, "Just for now?"
Xinyan looks up at her with cautious eyes. Even here, in the dark, hidden away from everyone else, faces hidden as if they were shadows, Yunjin sees the worry in them. What she wouldn't do to dispel it.
"Yunjin," she says, quietly as if the current band playing was muted out. Yunjin couldn't hear her, she could only read her mouth. "You need to go home."
She shakes her head. "No," she says firmly, "Not yet."
Xinyan recoils. She can see her weigh the odds. The risks. This happens everyday and yet she finds no perfect solution.
"Okay," she finally (finally) relents. She grabs Yunjin's wrist, careful as if her parents would hold her and says, "Follow me."
Yunjin does.
• • •
Simply put: Xinyan was far from perfect.
She's impulsive and loud. Sometimes she doesn't care enough, most of the time she cares too much. She's naïve and jumps to conclusions. She overthinks, she overdoes. She's not the perfect, proper partner Yunjin's parents would want for their child. She's just Xinyan.
"I'm going to tell them."
She just wishes that would be enough.
"No," Xinyan turns to her, "You don't have to do that."
They stand next to each other on the balcony of the pub, overlooking the city. It's dark enough here that they can rest easy, hide away from prying eyes, from judgemental stares. From what shows them just how different the two of them really are. From what could make them believe that it's true.
"I'm tired, Xinyan," Yunjin says, "I'm tired of hiding. Of sneaking around." She grabs her hand, finds her eyes in the dark and says, "They've only seen you once and I love you. Shouldn't that be enough?"
"Yunjin, it's your life that'll be ruined," Xinyan says, trying to be level-headed. That isn't usually her job, she's so bad at keeping at it. "And I'm fine with how things are."
"Well, I'm not," Yunjin presses. "It's just music. The same thing as I do. We perform, we sing. What makes this so awful?"
She holds their hands up, pulling them towards her chest and tugging Xinyan along. She clutches the against her chest, casting her head down in frustration.
"It's not just the music, Yunjin," she reasons, "It's the time I take away from you. From them. They don't want you hanging around with someone like me."
Yunjin furrows her eyebrows. "Someone like you?"
Xinyan sighs. "Someone not like you."
Yunjin's hands drop to her sides.
"I don't like that they think so little of you," Yunjin says, "I don't like that if we want to see each other, we have to do it in secret. They've never so much as given you a chance. I think they owe you at least that much."
Xinyan laughs bitterly. "A chance?" she asks, "They took one look at me, heard my music for one second, and took you away from me. If they found out the truth, they'd probably ask how much I wanted to stay away."
"You don't know that—"
"Yes, I do."
Yunjin looks at her with defeated eyes, mouth open as if wanting to say something but never finding the words. Xinyan doesn't give her the chance and looks away, leaning her arms against the railing. Somehow the cold gust of wind that passes by suits her well enough.
She can make a whole list of reasons why she and Yunjin shouldn't be together. She could carve a chasm in between them right now and it would look perfectly in place. That was how it was always like with the two of them. Yunjin was never in reach no matter how close she seemed, no matter how close Yunjin teeters near the edge. And Xinyan would never want her to risk a fall.
"Do you really believe that?" Yunjin asks her, "Or do you not believe in yourself enough to try?"
Xinyan knows she's far from perfect. She knows what perfect is. She's fallen in love with it. She's kissed its tears away, held it tight. She's felt its soft lips meet with hers, pulled away from it only to yearn for more. Perfect was Yunjin, and Xinyan could not be any more different from her.
• • •
They met by accident.
A wrong turn, a stumble in the dark, the loud beckoning of a drumline. All of it felt like falling into someplace with no way to come back from. Yunjin found herself in that hidden pub as if it wasn't her own two feet that led her there but fate itself. As if the universe cares enough about them to make that happen. Or as if it was cruel enough to purposefully let it.
What happened afterwards, however, was no accident.
Yunjin stared in awe at the stage that day, finally hearing the sound that she'd only heard in passing, her mother's hands covering her ears and directing her away. It felt… different. Compelling. There was something that formed in her chest that day that wasn't there before. Something hollowing. Something harrowing.
Something warm.
"You don't look like you're from around here," Xinyan observed then.
She was glistening in sweat from her performance, chest heaving slightly. In her hand was a bottle of cold water, melting in her grip which was the only proof that time went by that day. Everything else made it seem like it stopped.
"You're right," Yunjin answered, "I'm not."
Xinyan took a sip of her water, swallowing it as she looked down. She's always had a problem with looking Yunjin in the eye. She wished she wouldn't be so hesitant.
"I know you," Xinyan told her.
Yunjin tilted her head. "You've seen me perform?"
"Heard you perform," Xinyan corrected her. "Can't really get inside those fancy buildings. 'Specially as a rocker like me."
She looked somewhat sad. Maybe jaded. Yunjin looked at her then and watched as she couldn't look her in the eyes, saw the way her face fell as she talked about the opera.
"I like your music," she said just because she wanted to. Just because she felt it was something she needed to say.
It was the only time Xinyan glanced at her that day. The only time Yunjin could properly find her brown eyes, watch as they widen in confusion, and see her own reflection in the pupils.
"... thank you," she replied.
Yunjin would come back the next day. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. She would meet her after her performance, share a drink, have a laugh. They'd spend the hours acting like there weren't any hours passing.
For a while, Yunjin pretended that that was enough. That they needed no more from the universe that brought them together. After all, that in and of itself was a feat.
But Yunjin was used to performing in the spotlight. She spent her days in brightness, bathed in the light of the sun as if it chose her to tell its story. She wasn't used to hiding in dark corners.
Xinyan felt like a brilliant star, fervent and ablaze. It didn't feel right that she could only see her in the shadows.
To her, she wasn't just any star. She was her sun. And what would day be without its light?
• • •
Simply put: Yunjin was never perfect.
She's known this all her life. She's always stumbled before standing up, her voice would always crack before reaching a note. No one ever saw the process, only the product. And even then, Yunjin could see every little crack she'd made. She'd stand far away from everyone so that they wouldn't see them.
But then came Xinyan, who saw her flaws, her breaks, her mistakes. And she decided maybe it isn't so bad to let people see her like this. Maybe being perfect wasn't something she needed to be. Maybe she just needed to be.
That was Xinyan. Always being. She's the moment in every moment. She's the white noise in the quiet. She is the morning's first light and the evening's last rays.
Simply put: Xinyan wasn't perfect either. But she didn't need to be. Neither of them needed to be.
"Xinyan," Yunjin grabs her retreating wrist, "Listen to me."
Xinyan turns and the look on her face is pure hurt. Even in their own time, she is aching.
"I don't want to hide anymore," she repeats, licking her lips, "I don't want to hide you anymore."
She takes her face in her hands, caressing it softly, holding it as if Xinyan would take hers.
"You are beautiful," she says, "You make everything beautiful. You are the brightest star in the universe and I somehow found you right next to me."
Xinyan closes her eyes, leaning into her palm.
"I'm going to tell them," Yunjin continues, feeling the weight of her words in her chest, "Because I love you. Because I don't wanna hide this, us, anymore. Xinyan, the sun can't just burn out like this."
She takes her other hand and holds it tight. Faintly, she feels Xinyan squeeze back.
"What if I'm supposed to go out in the dark?" Xinyan asks.
Yunjin shakes her head. "You don't see this as I do."
Then Xinyan opens her eyes, brown watching her own red. She's pleading, hoping, wondering if she can really let herself have this. Is this another one of fate's cruel jokes? Or is this meant to be?
"I'm going to tell them," Yunjin repeats and it is said with the same conviction she uses on stage, bold and decisive. She's an unstoppable force and Xinyan would be witless to get in her way.
So, she joins her instead.
"We're going to tell them," she says, taking Yunjin's hand from her cheek, holding it in hers in a tight grasp. Whether she's holding on or just taking hold, she's not sure. But if there's anything that's perfect, it's the way Yunjin's fingers perfectly slot in between Xinyan's own. "Together."