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“If I have to tell one more disgusting nerd boy that there’s no more seven o’clock Black Hole tickets, I think I’m gonna die,” Yujin groans, collapsing lifelessly against the counter in the back room.
“You act like you haven’t watched it ten times yourself already. You’re the nerd.” Youngji laughs, clearly finding her dread oh-so amusing. “But god forbid you do your job and talk to customers.”
“The lame attempts at flirting are what make it insufferable.”
“That’s wild coming from you .”
“Shut up.”
“How about you shut up and do your damn job?”
“Says you , who collects the same paycheck as me for doing nothing but laugh at me all day.”
“If you weren’t such a colossal idiot, I wouldn’t have anything to laugh at, y’know,” she says, looking down at the chipped black nail polish on her stubby fingers without a care in the world. “And rules are rules. You pick the music, you work the register. ”
“Ok, but—”
“No buts, Yujin. I know you seem to find it impossible, but I still hate ABBA. And I still don’t want your stupid extra ticket to the concert.”
“I wasn’t gonna ask again, but if I was, I would say that you’re so lame for turning it down.”
“No, you’re just a massive pussy.” Youngji grins because that’s all she ever does. Leaning closer, she mentions the one thing Yujin regrets telling her. It would be a lie to say she didn’t see this coming, though. Youngji likes to bring it up daily. “Just ask her already.”
Yujin never should have told Youngji about her crush on the girl in her Calc class. The one girl Yujin knows that’s way out of her league—genuinely, light years out of her league. If she knew Youngji was going to tease her to hell over it, maybe she never would've brought it up.
Probably never would have mentioned it.
Actually… yeah… no.
Yujin has this way of spilling all her guts out while rambling, even the things she should really keep to herself. It’s inevitable.
That’s how she accidentally came out to Youngji while they were mopping the floors one searingly hot summer day, the silence in the empty theatre’s lobby having driven her insane enough to say such a thing. Luckily Youngji didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she made a game out of how many girls Yujin would stutter in front of until Yujin said—with expectations of equal acceptance—that she has a crush on the ridiculously popular girl that everyone else in her grade has a crush on, just because said girl made a habit of asking for Yujin’s help in math class. Yujin hasn’t heard the end of it since. Even now that it’s summer, Youngji can’t seem to forget.
“Ask her. Ask her. Ask her.”
“Hm?” Yujin feigns, playing the fool mostly for fun, partly in case Youngji feels like having pity today. “Who are you even talking about? There’s no one I had in mind when buying tickets.”
“You are so ridiculously lame.”
“Oh, save it. It’s not like she’ll actually wanna go if I—” The bell above the lobby door rings and Yujin glances over through the little window separating the front from the back. Her heart free falls in her chest, lips dropping open as well. The end of her sentence dies in throat as her eyes widen comically, the sight of Wonyoung in a pink little miniskirt, as fashionable as ever with her stupid leg warmers and sweater layered over a turtleneck, catching Yujin entirely off guard.
“It’s not like she’ll actually go if you…? If you what? Actually ask her?” Youngji presses, clueless until she follows Yujin’s eyes, gasping when the possibility hits her. “Don’t tell me that’s—”
“Shut up.”
“ Wonyoung ?”
“Shut up.” Yujin shoves Youngji’s teasing hands away from her cheeks.
“Should I tell her about the tickets?”
“Shut. Up . Seriously shut up,” she panics, pacing around a few seconds until she realises that’s not a viable solution to this problem.
Youngji is halfway through a snicker when Yujin turns to her, hands slapping together in prayer. “Please. I’ll do anything you want if you just—”
“Nope,” she denies, popping the P with a shit-eating grin. “Deals a deal, Ahn. You make me listen to ABBA all day, you get the girl. Now’s a great chance to ask her out too. Looks like she’s here alone.”
“You cannot possibly sit there and look at her and look at me and actually think that I have a chance.”
“Welp, looks like I do. Go do your job. I’ll make some popcorn for, uh… entertainment.” She knocks the stupid uniform buckle hat off Yujin’s head, forcing Yujin to fall after and fumble with it on the ground. The sound of Wonyoung’s voice carries through the window despite Youngji’s loud kernel scooping.
“Hello?”
“Coming,” she calls meekly, glaring at the back of Youngji’s head. She clears her throat and walks through the curtain that leads behind the counter, hoping and praying that the look on her face displays a believable level of surprise.
“Hi—Oh, Hey Wonyoung,” she stutters, death gripping the counter behind the register.
She’s so beautiful, really, so much so that Yujin can feel her face heating up and all she can do is run a hand through her choppy, shoulder-length hair in a futile attempt to get her shit together.
“Hey,” Wonyoung shoots back, a little huff leaving her nose, that permanent little smile curling her lips. “How’s it going?”
“It’s, uh, it’s going. Super well, actually.”
“Oh yeah?” Her smile droops slightly before she leans forward, cupping a hand over one side of her mouth to whisper, “Is that why that woman is staring at me or…?”
Yujin turns quickly, glancing over her shoulder to see Youngi popping pieces of popcorn into her mouth, elbows on the ledge of the pass, her entire lurking figure visible because she’s quite literally staring through the gaping hole in the wall like there’s a fucking movie playing in the lobby. She’s not slick. Not even trying to be.
“Oh—That’s just, um—That’s nothing.” She turns back with redder cheeks now, half sure there’s sweat on her brow and, fuck , now she can’t even meet Wonyoung’s eyes. “She’s just—She’s weird.”
“Weirder than you?” she jokes.
“For sure,” she says quickly, quicker than anything she’s ever said in Wonyoung’s presence. Whenever Wonyoung asked for help in Calc—which was often since she was pretty terrible at it (but that’s part of what makes her so cute)—Yujin stuttered so badly her explanations were barely coherent. It was a miracle Wonyoung learned anything from her and an even greater one that she continued to turn around with questions despite Yujin’s clear issues with speaking to her. So Wonyoung already thinks she’s weird. Youngji staring at her like a massive creep probably isn’t helping. “She’s really weird, stares at everyone all the time. It’s a problem, really—a staring problem—but she’s working on it. Sorry about that.”
“Interesting...” Wonyoung’s eyes dart over again, a confused but content look on her face when she looks back. “Have you been missing me over break?”
“Oh, uh, yes. Of course. But a normal amount. Just a little.”
Wonyoung finds this funnier than Yujin intends. “I guess I’ve been missing you a normal amount too. Or maybe a little more than that, since I’m here in the first place.” She sighs and sways back and forth when Yujin says nothing. “So… uh, do you work here every day?”
“Pretty much, since it’s summer.”
“Must get pretty busy.”
“Mostly on weekends, but it’s not so bad other days.”
“Yeah…” Wonyoung’s gaze flits back again, confusion littering her once more. “Are you sure that lady is ok? She looks like she has something to say to me, or that she wants to kill me.”
“Oh, no. She’s really no one. No one at all. Harmless. Not a murderer, just rude.” Yujin looks back again, trying to shoot daggers but who knows if she succeeds right now under the pressure of Wonyoung’s eyes. She sighs, steels herself, meets Wonyoung’s eyes to ask, “Who are you seeing?”
“I’m sorry?” she laughs, a bit disbelieved, but not in the worst way. More shocked than anything else. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. Me and Sunghoon have been over for months, didn’t you know?”
Fuck.
Shit.
She did know that Wonyoung was single—she could write a fucking encyclopedia on Wonyoung—but it’s not what she meant.
“I-I mean what— what are you seeing? What movie , I meant. Since this is the, um—the movie theatre.”
“Right…” Wonyoung looks down, biting back a smile that makes Yujin feel like even more of an idiot than she’s proven herself. It’s always like this when Wonyoung is involved. At school, whenever Wonyoung walked up to her in that criminally short cheerleading dress, Yujin felt like a fool in her band uniform waving back, stuttering some agreement about how hot it was. It’s a mystery why Wonyoung bothered to talk to her at all. Why she still is, even now—or, wait, she just wants a movie ticket.
“Hello?”
Yujin snaps back into it, meeting her eyes again. “What?”
“My movie.”
“Oh, what movie?”
Wonyoung laughs again. It’s clear she said it already while Yujin was spiralling, but she repeats with no malice, “The Black Hole? Seven o’clock.”
Yujin hears Youngji audibly chuckle behind her. She clenches her jaw and grips the counter harder, her heart racing in her ears as she tries to ignore the way Wonyoung looks even more confused. She’s really pretty when she’s confused, too, which she often was in Yujin’s presence, since she couldn’t explain limits for shit in Mr. Wu’s class. It’s rare Yujin got a coherent sentence out then and, clearly now, too…
“There’s no tickets for seven. They’re all sold. That’s why she’s laughing, by the way. She’s not laughing at you, no one would ever laugh at you because you’re um… yeah. You’re amazing. Nothing’s funny. Don’t worry about her. She’s no one. Just an idiot who stares too much and works here.”
Basically she says a lot of nothing when it comes to Wonyoung and uh, at least she’s not mumbling like she used to in the classroom. God, she looks like a fool, but it’s a good thing Wonyoung doesn’t seem to mind.
Wonyoung nods, the pursed, withheld smile in her eyes breaking out onto her lips when she speaks. “Got it. No tickets.”
“Yeah, no tickets,” Yujin whispers, gasping for air when she realises she hasn’t breathed yet. She busies herself with the seating chart, turning the pages to see other showings. “I can get you some for tomorrow, though, for the same time. Or any other time—Most times. Depending on how many seats you want.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“What?”
“What if I wanted two tickets?”
“Then, uh, any time works. You want the evening? Four? Five? Six? Seven? Earlier?”
“Whatever time works for you.”
“I—What?”
“Whatever time you can make.”
“What?”
“I want to watch with you.”
Her eyes blow open. “W-What?”
“I said…” she leans a little closer, the smile on her lips far more mischievous now. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. Yujin can’t even think right now with Jang Wonyoung so close to her, smiling like that. “Let’s watch it together, unless you’ve watched it already? I’ll watch anything, really, whatever you want. We can do something else, too, if that’s more fun for you. I think there’s a fair going on next weekend.”
“…What?”
“A date.” She sighs, long and hard, but it’s satisfied, like she’s finally gotten something off her chest. “I’m asking you on a date. Trying to, anyway. But I can handle rejection if you don’t want to, or if I, um… got the wrong idea about how you felt.”
“Oh.” No thoughts. Zero. Nothing except Wonyoung’s smile and the sight of her biting it, her nails drumming nervously on the countertop in a way that’s wholly unfamiliar. Wonyoung, nervous? For her? This is insane. She didn’t believe it’s real. “A date?”
“Yes.”
“With me ? You’re sure you mean me , right? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Yujin,” she chuckles, leaning back a bit, relaxing on her feet, and, sweet Jesus Christ—is she looking at Yujin’s lips ? Her severely chapped and probably bleeding lips ?! She definitely is. “You. I want a date with you , if that’s ok.”
Yujin’s dehydrated lips fall open like they always do, no air escaping. Her jaw is on the ground, sure, but one good thing is that Wonyoung looks like she’s enjoying it. She’s resting her hands on the counter again, rocking closer and further on the heels of her Mary Jane’s, and there’s still absolutely no words anywhere near Yujin’s tongue. She’s already well accepted that she’s going to suffocate to death when Youngji bumps her right arm so hard she stumbles and almost eats the tile.
“What she means to say right now is yes. Tomorrow works. She gets off at six o’clock.” Youngji marks two X’s on a seating chart and clicks the clunky keys to print the tickets. “But Yujin’s already seen that nerdy movie a million times, so Phantasm works better, if you can handle something scary.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. I love scary.”
Youngji smirks conspiratorially as she pats Yujin’s stiff back. “ Perfect .”
Yujin tries her best to glare because Youngji knows damn well Yujin hates horror. She can’t handle it. Physically, she just can’t do it. She jumps and jolts and screams and cries and would rather use her free movie passes a million times on The Muppets before watching something even remotely scary. But for Wonyoung…
For Wonyoung….
“Sounds fun.”
“Great. I’ll pay this time,” Wonyoung beams, handing over a five dollar bill to Youngji, further silencing Yujin who realises—albeit delayed—that this time implies multiple dates. Faintly, Yujin wonders if she likes ABBA.
Youngji hands over two connected tickets plus change, and Wonyoung rips the tickets apart in front of them, keeping one and flipping over the other. She grabs a pen out of the little can and begins to write down a long number that’s obviously for a telephone. Her home phone, most likely.
Yujin has to fend off Youngji discreetly pinching her side behind the counter. She almost jumps when Wonyoung speaks again, unsure whether to be terrified or excited about this whole ordeal.
“Ok, well, I’ll see you tomorrow at six. My Dad said I can take the car if you want to get dinner after? I was thinking that pizza place by school.”
She said it like a question after sliding over the ticket with her number on it, yet Yujin is still blanking, no words coming to mind. Maybe words aren’t even real anymore. Maybe this isn’t real—Maybe she’ll wake up and this will all be one incredible dr—
Youngji slaps her firmly in the centre of her spine, coughing out a, “ get it together”, between almost-pursed lips.
“Yes!” Yujin says too loudly after too long, coughing like Youngji did to clear her throat, lowering to a more regular tone for, “That’s, um, perfect. So perfect for me. I love dinner—pizza. Especially with, um, with you. After horror movies. It’s perfect.” Minus the horror part, but she decides not to mention that as she watches Wonyoung’s smile grow.
“Yeah, I love movies too, but don’t have crazy expectations. Sometimes I have a hard time paying attention.”
“Oh, that’s ok.” Yujin offers an awkward little wave when Wonyoung backs away. She slowly drags the ticket with Wonyoung’s number toward herself. “See ya.”
Wonyoung winks. Fucking winks before she turns around on her heel, a visible spring to her step as she takes her leave.
“God damn, I might steal her away after that pathetic performance…” Youngji mutters before Wonyoung is even out the door yet. “And you know she wants you to kiss her, right? Or she’ll try to kiss you. ‘Sometimes I have a hard time paying attention’ ,” she mimics—an awful impression of Wonyoung’s voice. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she bangs you in her dad’s car after you piss yourself watching that shitty movie.”
Yujin hears practically none of this, kicks her shin, and shoves her away.
“Why did you come out?!”
“What is wrong with you?” she asks, her grin insufferable. “Why did you come out? Hm? You told me you liked her, isn’t this what you wanted?”
Yujin huffs. How can she disagree? She’s having dinner and a movie with Wonyoung tomorrow after work and that’s not really any of her doing. She almost lost the opportunity. A look of embarrassment flashed over Wonyoung’s ethereal features for a moment back there, but Youngji saved it. Admitting that, though, is a whole different story. One that Yujin knows better than to write.
“I was just about to say yes. You just came at the wrong time.”
“The wrong time… Sure….” she trails off, walking into the back room, shaking with laughter, dropping the curtain on Yujin’s face when she follows.
She pockets the ticket, yanks the window shut, the rail quaking from the force of it, and turns back to the older woman.
“Seriously, you need to chill out with being in my business.”
“ Seriously , I just scored you a date with a hottie,” Youngji says matter-of-factly—perhaps even mockingly—while scooping a new small bag of popcorn. She eats her weight in it every shift, which consistently horrifies and baffles Yujin, simultaneously. “Now you just have to invite her to that stupid concert.”
“I will . I would’ve if you didn’t meddle.”
“Right, because it’s not like you told me ten minutes ago that you weren’t going to invite her since you had no chance.” And to that, Yujin says what she usually does when caught off guard—nothing. “Then she came in here and asked you out. The timing couldn’t have been better. It’s like you live in a chick-flick or something.”
Yujin huffs a laugh. “So I’m the main character in this movie?”
“No, not by a long shot, but the fans like you the most. You guys can be the lesbian side couple everyone gets overly-invested in.”
“That… doesn’t exist.”
“Fox and Friends? Mr. Goodbar? Children’s hour?” she lists off, scoffing when Yujin stares back, expressionless. Their age gap is really showing here. “You’re such a fake lesbian.”
“Because I don’t seek and rent out movies with gay motifs?”
Youngji shrugs. “All the gays I know do.”
“Like who?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“You mean…?”
She smirks. “Birds of a feather, me and you.”
Yujin’s eyes widen slightly, almost imperceptibly, because somehow this detail slipped by undetected. Maybe Youngji hadn’t been trying to hide it all. Maybe it should’ve been obvious given how they’ve actually gotten closer since Yujin opened up about her sexuality. Maybe there was another reason Youngji kept this to herself. Something much more emotional.
“Are you…” Yujin begins, stopping because she doesn’t really have the courage for this. The only reason she continues, honestly, is because she’s deeply curious and still riding the high of scoring a date with Wonyoung Jang. “Are you in love with me?”
Youngji stares. She blinks. Then she explodes . Into laughter, of course, because that’s what Youngji does best.
“In love —Oh my God—in love with you ?! You’re actually fucking with me right now,” she half shouts through pants, crumbling to the ground now, clutching her stomach as she cackles like a hyena in front of the popcorn machine. “In love with you! Me , with you !?”
It’s insulting. Maybe it would be a little humiliating too, if she hadn’t been working with Youngji all summer and she wasn’t so used to being humiliated in good fun.
When the gasping and tears of joy fade, Youngji pulls herself up off the ground and faces Yujin again, face red, eyes watering, grin securely intact. As irritating and very much not in love with her as ever.
“You’re like a sister to me, Yujin. Don’t be gross.”
“Ok—I know.” And she did know that—she isn’t sure why she even asked something so ridiculous anymore. Seemed like a good idea in the moment, but anyway, “Why didn’t you tell me you were like me, then? It would’ve been nice…”
“Just because you spill your life secrets out at the drop of a hat doesn’t mean I need to be as much of an idiot.”
“But we’re like sisters! You just said that!”
“And you’re telling me your sister knows you’re gay? Or your brother?”
“Well… no, but—”
“Exactly. Be grateful you know now.” Youngji backs up into the counter and uses it as a seat, easily lifting herself and landing on the smooth surface. “Now, let’s go over all the details of your date.”
“ My date. See, that’s the key detail, and the only one that matters to you.”
“Well, it’ll turn into your funeral if you repeat what just occurred out there.” Youngji gestures toward the close-curtained window, two brows raised. “We absolutely do not need a Yujin-directed sequel to that murder scene. That crime of passion. Romantic homicide. Shot to the—”
“Fine— Fine . We can talk about it,” she agrees mostly to get Youngji to drop the recent incident She can already feel herself getting hot in the face again at the memory, and she finds herself reaching into her pocket for the ticket, smiling at the number carefully jotted on the back in Wonyoung’s perfect, bubbly script.
She smiles harder thinking about her, about Wonyoung, how sweet she is—like a ball of honey, bubblegum, pure sugar. It doesn’t matter if she’s really bad at math when there's not an evil bone in her body. She’s like sunshine incarnate, and Yujin is… so astronomically out of her league. Yujin is the personification of a rainstorm, the way she wears her eyeliner and bomber jackets and would never, ever touch the colour pink, while adamantly believing Wonyoung wears it so well.
“You’re such a fucking loser,” Youngji says, but somehow there manages to be endearment in it, and when Yujin looks, wondering if Youngji was reading her thoughts, she’s met with a smile that’s far from teasing. “I’m happy for you, kid. Really. She seems great.”
Yujin sets the ticket down to rub her nape, shrugging, trying to be the most nonchalant tomato in the D.C. area. “She is great. Just don’t embarrass me tomorrow.“
“Oh, I won’t…” she says, leaning back to laugh lightly at the ceiling. “I have a feeling you got that covered.”