Chapter Text
If someone were to ask Inha about what a wet sock situation is like, it would be this.
The head belonged to probably the most exasperating woman she’d ever come into contact with; resting on her shoulder in the corner of the dark movie theater where they were seated, bright technicolor painting their faces. Like a Holly Warburton piece.
Oddly enough, this doesn’t seem too uncomfortable to Inha, physically—annoying, well, very much yes but uncomfortable? The wisps of red curls softly pressed against the curve of her neck felt warmer than any of the finest cashmere scarves she had ever wrapped around her body. Maybe it’s because Hong Seol is a real, live person and not some spineless clump of thread—or maybe the heat that’s engulfing her body as we speak is just coming from all the hatred building up in the pit of her stomach towards the person beside her, this situation, everything else.
How and why she let herself get dragged into this crap remains a mystery to Inha. She could have said no, she’s got a lot of other less bothersome things to do anyway, like, I don’t know—maybe flip through the pages of a tabloid she’d already memorized the words to. Better yet, she could have just cut their stupid tutoring schtick off; it’s not like Seol can use it as a blackmail opportunity over her anymore after she presumably went on a break with Yoo Jung, that bastard. But oh well, here she is, recreating the famous head-resting-on-shoulder still from a Park Chan-wook film in a dark theater where no one else could see or give a damn.
For someone like Inha, who has been living off of scamming people for the past several years, what’s wrong or what’s right has never been a major issue for her—probably never even crossed her mind up until this very moment. But there was a pang of lingering guilt in the corner of her mind where she paid the least attention, telling her she had entangled herself in an illicit affair with a woman she so loved to hate. Surely, this situation doesn’t come off as the generic concept of cheating. It’s not like they’re fucking or having declarations of love towards each other behind Yoo Jung’s back. Still, there’s something… something Inha couldn’t point a finger to anything in those secret meetings of theirs on a rusty old bench under a shedding tree in the hidden parts of the university; the brief but painfully lingering few seconds of eye contact whenever their arms accidentally brush against each other when they’re sitting next to each other in the library; and now—this.
They stayed like that for a little while. While her human pillow struggles to maintain every ounce of focus on the decades-old motion picture flashing on the big screen, Seol is getting some comfortable shut-eye—ironically and arguably the most peaceful she's had since the events of last year.
After Inha’s several pathetic attempts at trying to ignore their visually off-putting position (at least it seemed like it to her), she finally lost her cool and abruptly slid her shoulder away, jolting Seol awake back to reality after having her head slammed against the armrest due to Inha’s sudden movement. Total dick move, but hey, that’s Baek Inha at your service.
"What the—did I fall asleep?" Seol groggily asks, still obviously not very present at the moment. A college girl’s got a lot on her mind; that supposed group project she’s been working alone on for nights, internal family conflicts, how she’ll get by until next week with the amount of money left in her bank account, and, of course, the prime dilemma of the moment: the declining romance with Yoo Jung. It’s not like accidentally sleeping on your bane’s shoulder to forget about everything for a good ten minutes would hurt a fly… but it did piss off a certain blonde woman, though.
"Yeah, no shit. Got some balls sleeping on me like that; you think I’m your boyfriend? You miss him that much?" The other woman scowls as she brushes the imaginary dust off of her blazer’s shoulder.
The redhead crinkles her nose, awkwardly shifts on her seat, and averts her gaze to the screen projection, "Will you stop talking about him like that? Already told you he—"
"Yeah, yeah. Broke up with you, I’ve heard from the streets."
"We’re not on a break. We’re just… trying to find ourselves first. Just saying, ‘cause I know you thrive off of rumors." Seol shoots the other with a deadpan look.
"Well, don’t say because I don’t give a shit," Inha replies, now with her arms and legs crossed and a smug face looking up at the screen. After the few seconds of silence that followed their previous exchange, some kind of magnetic force within Hong Seol’s core made Inha’s head unconsciously turn in her direction. Was this dweeb always this easy on the eye? She thought about the unaware girl beside her, whose face served as a canvas for the reflection of the technicolor projecting on the screen.
What the hell was that? Inha was stunned upon realizing what she had just thought. Goddamnit. She really shouldn’t have agreed to become Yoo Jung’s substitute for today.
"What the fuck do you want now?" Not even having the decency to mutter a simple ‘hello,’ Inha cradles her phone between her shoulder and ear to be able to continue filing her nails (you never know the next time you’ll find yourself in a street fight). "I've already started reading those pretentious liberal arts whatever books you gave me, alright?"
“That’s not what I called you for—really? You actually read it?”
“Say it or I’ll end this call right now. I have better things to do.”
That was a lie, obviously. What better things are there left to do for a broke, jobless twenty-seven-year-old?
"I have two tickets for this classic mo—"
"Fuck, now you’re reporting your weekly dates to me? You want my relationship advice now or what?" She scoffs, continuing to run the nail file along the edges of her nails.
"Will you let me finish first?" Inha heard an exasperated sigh from the other line, followed by a few seconds of silence. "As I was saying, I have tickets for a classic movie on Saturday. I just wanted to see if you would like to come see it with me."
Well, that’s new. Inha’s pretty sure Hong Seol has some other friends. What kind of new blackmail opportunity is she cooking up now?
"What made you think I would even be in the slightest interested in that?"
"I don’t know. You have no friends."
Little shit.
“Why don’t you just go ask your boyfriend since you love him so much?”
Seol on the other line went blank for a few seconds. Man, based only on their past interactions, I guess it’s safe to assume that Inha will go batshit insane and immediately jump on her after finding out about her breakup with Jung, since she can no longer use him to blackmail Inha. Telling a piece of the truth and leaving out the significant details doesn’t sound too bad, though… right? This is Inha, the one we’re talking about, anyway; it’s not like what’s morally right or wrong would seem that much of a big deal to her.
"He… can’t. Something came up at work." Seol had her fingers of her free hand crossed as she mumbled every word. I didn’t sound too hesitant, right?
Inha made a soundless laugh. Life really is full of surprises. She shifted her phone into her hand, leaning forward from her seat. "You broke up, didn’t you?"
God damn Hong Seol’s terrible lying skills. She really needs to work on that. But on the bright side, at least her terrible attempts at lying still managed to entertain some people—Inha, mostly.
"What’s up with you?" Inha's mind was brought back to the present by the weird look plastered on the other’s face.
“What?”
“You’re staring dead at my face.” Seol runs her fingers through her curls. “Did my hair get too big again?”
“Fool yourself. Your hair is always big,” Inha retorts, hiding behind the mask of smugness to recover from being caught off guard. And by off guard, I mean like a total middle school idiot who got caught staring at a boy in class and was publicly announced by one asshole classmate.
"Why were you staring then?"
Excuse… Inha needs an excuse. Was Hong Seol ever this pushy?
Inha scans the other girl’s face, trying to find a trivial blemish she can make a big deal about just to stray her away from the staring topic. Her hair? Good one, but the joke is getting old. Nose? Well, in all honesty, it actually looks pretty cu—nope, nope. Wait, there’s something in the corner of her mouth—
"You’re disgusting, you know that?" Inha grumbles as she grazes her thumb along Seol’s cheek to the corner of her mouth to wipe off the mess caused by her nap from earlier.
The red-haired girl’s eyes widen in sheer surprise at Inha’s totally and completely uncalled-for gesture. What the hell is going on…
There must’ve been something added to the waters of Seoul this morning.