Work Text:
Minnie had written letters that have never left her bed.
In the hours before dawn, she would lie on the floor with nothing much, just pen and paper and a bedside lamp. The warm yellow light bleeding through fast cursive sentences.
Minnie would write about everything but everything to her is a person. At that time, it was too much to spell out a name, so instead Minnie spelled her in descriptions, like the shape of her back, the flow of her hair, the weather, the way the sun had touched her face.
Minnie found the bundle of letters inside a preloved lacquer box from under her bed when she was pacing for inspiration. A little memory box with a slight callousness of age, a kind of metallic rust when she felt the lid.
Inside, there are polaroids with bent edges, keychains with broken hooks, bracelets with missing beads but most importantly, in one of the letters is a draft for a song she never got to finish.
Minnie looks up to stare at the face of the door. It’s terrifying to unlock something that has been kept shut for so long. She knows she doesn’t have to. But then she thinks back to what Soyeon had told her the other night, to write from the heart, to write about something that you believe in. And Minnie believes in love, it’s the only thing she knows that she can count on. That there's something true in it and that like water it will never die.
Minnie sinks back into a couch, takes out the letter and holds it up under the ceiling light. It feels larger than it was now, in this quiet, staring at her own writing that she knows with her heart had all been about Miyeon.
She traces the words carefully:
With this heart, and my shoes in my hand,
Will you take me on a walk?
And then quietly, like a breeze, like something coming to life, Minnie can hear Miyeon through the door, the light shuffling of footsteps and the sound of her humming.
. . .
In simpler days, hours would go by just like this: two girls in a room leaning against a wall, a song playing in the back, Miyeon’s head on Minnie’s shoulder.
“Do you ever think about what happens after,” Minnie would say, because whenever she’s with Miyeon it always feels like she’s hanging by a precipice, like she’s running out of time.
“You mean what happens after we debut?” Miyeon slightly raises her head to look at Minnie. She’s never shy about eye-contact.
Minnie on the other hand, is always insistent on avoiding it. “And after after we debut,” she says.
Minnie looks sidelong at Miyeon, who's rubbing the back of her neck, trying to discern the weight of her question.
“Why is that important?" Minnie isn't surprised with the answer. Because it's Miyeon. Miyeon who never lives beyond the present.
Minnie thinks about being on stage, the glamour of it all, and how it’s really not that exciting. Or maybe that it’s terrifying. How then her world would suddenly feel larger, and much larger than this room, or anything else she’s familiar with. She doesn’t want it to be any more special than this, the way they’ve always been, as simple as girls with a dream like any other girls.
Hours later, in a convenience store, Minnie would pick out two of Miyeon’s favorite ice cream and one of hers while the other girl browses through the snack aisle.
Under the morning sun, when autumn leaves would twirl along a breeze, they would walk along the street and Minnie would always somehow end up staring at the girl beside her. The way light conflicts with the shadows of her features. The way her fingers would graze against Minnie's limp one on the side. And that feeling would return, an ugly bitter thing eating her away from the inside.
Back in the dorm Minnie would choose a movie but only as background noise, because Miyeon would talk through the entire thing about something else completely unrelated. And when time has sucked dry all of Miyeon’s energy left to talk, it would be her head on Minnie’s shoulder, like clockwork.
They would be silent, eyes looking far and heavy, and they both know it like instinct that in these undefined hours they would eventually have to talk about something real and true.
“I mean of course I’m worried,” Miyeon begins all of a sudden, and it takes Minnie a second to know where she’s coming from. “But all my life I’ve always had this uncanny assurance that everything will turn out well in the end.” And Minnie has always liked that about her, the way Miyeon stays undefeatable.
“And I keep thinking that it shouldn't matter what happens next, because what I've been given so far is the most important.” Her fingers are tracing circles on the underside of Minnie’s palm.
“I mean the six of us.”
. . .
When Minnie arrives in Thailand it’s supposed to feel right, like coming back home. But there's a knife stuck in her throat. She carries it in her, sharp and awful, and every time she moves she can feel each tear, each stab, and each time she can only bleed.
Minnie doesn’t turn on the news, she limits her phone usage, and she talks only to the people that matters most.
In the following days, the only thing that can help her cope is what will keep her busy. Which is better than most nights where Minnie would be alone in her room, watching the ceiling and waiting for that feeling to come, that strange kind of homesickness pulling her in waves.
One night, it’s the same kind of setting. Minnie just got back home after filming for a show and is about to go to bed until Miyeon called.
“I miss you,” comes the static in her voice. “When’re you coming back?”
Minnie lies down on her bed, her eyes are heavy with sleep but it’s nice to hear Miyeon’s voice. “Just wait for a little longer,” she says, “did you watch the show?”
“I did,” Minnie sees Miyeon smile and for the first time she feels far. “You did well Minnie-ya, I wanna give you a hug.” The screen is briefly dark when Miyeon gives her the ‘hug’. And it’s sweet. And Minnie can’t help but smile.
“Save that for when I’m back,” she says.
“Minnie-ya,” Miyeon is readjusting the angle of her phone. “How are you?" It sounds dismissive. And looking back at her, Minnie can see that Miyeon is avoiding her eyes, still busy fiddling with her phone.
"I...uhm." Minnie thought that leaving would soothe the ache, would blend out the wound that is too big to cover. Because it's hard not to notice the gap. She realizes that it’s the little things that hurt the most. The tiny absences, and tiny empty spaces which would then mold into a person. It doesn't feel right with just the five of them.
"I'm trying to be okay."
The screen has stopped shaking. Miyeon presses her knuckles against her lips. "Tell me something I don’t know.” And Minnie can see that she’s serious. “Something you don't want to tell me,” she adds. And Minnie thinks about the letters.
“What do you want me to tell you?” It feels out of nowhere, this conversation. It feels so unlike them to talk about them.
Miyeon bites her lip, “about you, or anything.” Her voice is too small, too tiny.
Minnie harks back to the days when she's still writing those letters. How in her head it always feels like she has told Miyeon everything when in reality she’s the only one who knows. Maybe that's why she runs out of words, maybe that's why she tells so little.
“I’m nervous,” Minnie says, and it’s true. “Ever since that day, I’ve only ever been nervous.”
Miyeon nods sympathetically. She always looks like she’s about to cry but that’s just how sincere she is most of the time.
Minnie clears her throat, “but it doesn’t mean we have to stop.”
They’re quiet for a moment. Miyeon stares at her patiently, waiting for more, and Minnie feels useless because she knows there’s more, she just can’t say it.
“Will you ever let me in?” And there is hurt in Miyeon's voice, “now of all times, when I need you the most—just how much are you telling me exactly what your heart wants to say?”
Minnie stays quiet until the end. She goes to bed with that question, with the rain outside her window, and an answer that's now starting to leak out of her mouth, the way the truth can often drown you.
. . .
Sometime in the past, before their lives began, Minnie and Miyeon were walking through the street thinking this could be their last.
They rambled along the sideline of closing shops and dwindling city lights with their bodies warm and touching.
It’s too early to go to bed.
Her thoughts are the quickest at night.
They stopped by a telephone booth. They were a bit drunk. Miyeon went inside and made a show of trying to call someone. Minnie fell on her feet from laughing too much. They went on like this, in stumbling inebriation, until they reached a bus stop and sat on the bench.
Their breaths smelled of liquor.
Their hands were warm and on top of each other.
The final bus would arrive in ten minutes.
On the ground, Minnie watched the way her feet was touching Miyeon’s shadow. Not wanting to be anywhere outside of her.
“You don’t know this,” she leaned against the girl, the truth coming out of her with each breath, “but I rely on you more than I rely on myself.”
Minnie felt Miyeon’s shoulder becoming stiff, and if she was sober she would have gotten up and walked away. “It’s unhealthy but it’s the only way I know.”
They’re facing the Han River. It's alive unlike everything else surrounding it. They listened to the sound of nightly commute, of distant traffic and crowd. It would've been nice if they were much closer to the noise, instead of this sickly quiet place where Minnie had no choice but to listen to her heart.
"It's okay," Miyeon had said, then Minnie felt a hand on her head, before gently, combing through her hair. "There shouldn't be any shame in love."
Minnie wanted to cry. She leaned closer until her face was hidden in the slope of Miyeon’s neck, and this was the closest they'd ever been.
They stayed like that for a while, until they could hear the bus from a distance, until they saw the headlights expanding through the tarmac.
Minnie knew that outside of this time there would be no more chances to be completely fully honest without the fear of their worlds collapsing, so she held Miyeon down.
Though it was blurry Minnie could see Miyeon’s eyes, and they were bright and waiting.
“Ten more minutes,” Minnie said, which was a confession, which was asking for time, which meant, in other words, I love you, so stay.
The bus doors folded open, some people left but that was it. Miyeon sat back down. Until the bus left. Until it was quiet all over again. She leaned her head against Minnie’s shoulder and they felt the river like it was near.
That night, even though it was cold, nobody wanted to leave.
. . .
It’s winter when the song is finally ready.
In the recording booth Miyeon wears the coat that Minnie gave her and it looks good on her.
But then it doesn't feel right to be happy about the little things, not now, not when they’ve spent hours recording and nothing seems to work. The way Miyeon keeps missing the point and Minnie keeps insisting.
“It’s like when you’re talking about love,” Minnie explains, speaking through the microphone. “Like you’re hopeful but worried at the same time.”
To that Miyeon only tilts her head, as if to provoke. “But what do you talk about when you talk about love?” And stares at Minnie through the screen even when she doesn’t look back.
The answer is at the tip of her tongue. Minnie swallows it down.
It takes them a few more hours to finish. Minnie can't wait to go home. And the car is waiting. But just as she's about to get in, Miyeon pinches the sleeve of her sweater and asks to stop by a convenience store.
And so Minnie waits outside while Miyeon browses through the snack aisle. Minnie watches her through the store windows, lips pursed with a finger on her chin. Minnie sits on the curb of a parking lot in the cold winter air. The sun is on its way down. She watches as light begins to slur in glimpses through roofs of cars, of windshields, of dirty puddles, and the silver bell of a parked bike.
Miyeon walks out carrying a plastic bag, while in her other hand is a can of beer.
“You're drinking?” Minnie gapes at her.
Instead of an answer, Miyeon shows her that there's an extra can of beer inside the bag. “For you,” she says, her voice scarring from the cold.
Minnie takes it reluctantly.
She pops the can open and Miyeon stares at her as she drinks, doesn’t break eye contact even as Minnie pulls the can away from her mouth.
Miyeon is now staring at her lips, and then she begins to speak. "It was something about the song," she says, slowly, as if tasting each word. "'With this heart and my shoes in my hand, will you take me on a walk.'"
Minnie tilts her head away, sips the beer quietly, nervously. Her heart is stampeding in her chest and she's afraid that it would show. Because Miyeon's trying to kill her. She's sensing every pulse.
In the neighborhood street ahead, a lamppost begins to flicker. A cat scampers up a tree. A stray wind flutters the leaves of trees. A single moon rising, but Miyeon’s eyes are brighter.
“It's about you,” Minnie's voice is shaking. “I think you know that already.”
Miyeon turns her head to the side, she sniffs, tries to be discreet about it. “Sometimes I do," she says. Her face is complicated, and it's a look that is strange on her, something Minnie has never seen before. "But it's different when you're the one who says it.” Miyeon lifts a hand up to her forehead, lets it hang there absently, before dragging it down her face, blowing out a sigh. “Minnie, I can't read your mind. And I don't think you know this but I second guess myself too, and sometimes all I need is to hear it from you because you're not the only who's afraid.”
Minnie realizes for the first time, that hurting Miyeon is worse than getting hurt herself. “Think of the heartache we could've saved if only you were honest right from the start,” Miyeon hits her in the arm but not enough to hurt. It's tired and pleading and Miyeon gives her another shove but this is where she takes Miyeon's hand and pulls her into a hug.
It's a strange intimacy. The way Miyeon plops her chin on her shoulder and leans her entire weight against her, melting. In this warmth Minnie feels weak and small and sorry.
“Think of all the time we could’ve saved.”
“I know,” is all she can say. “Let's walk back home.”
It’s late when they arrive. The rest of the members are asleep. Minnie taps in the code to their apartment and the lights turn on automatically. They take off their shoes and their coats and place them where it belongs.
In that narrow corridor, they fall into a sort of automation, an invisible routine, a chain of reaction, and Minnie thinks of how good it would feel if she could feel everything and not be against it.
And so this is where it has to stop. Where the water breaks its flow.
Before Miyeon can leave to her room Minnie blurts out, “can we start again?”
And staring at Miyeon's face that has only ever been patient, Minnie thinks of everything she wants to say. She thinks of how long she has wanted this and why it took her so long to understand something so simple like love.
“Okay,” Miyeon says, a weak smile spreading across her lips.
Before the night ends, Minnie thinks of where to begin. If there's a way to start this right.
Then she thinks of the letters under her bed.
Finally, an excerpt:
And I keep thinking about the days in the playground, nights in the mall before it closes down. On the bench by the river, our hands too shy to touch, our shadows misaligning with light.
And in my head I have told you everything but there’s always more to say. So I’m here to be brave, to tell you everything before I would start losing them. That it felt right to be with you, the way you always seem to know how to mend all that is sad and difficult about me. The way you know me in the only way that you do.