Work Text:
It’s not a horrible party. It is a house at the bend of a cul-de-sac that seems to be overrun with a majority college-age population and whoever’s in charge of DJing has been looping the same few shitty Soundcloud tracks, but Jaehyun thinks it’s fine. Just Okay. She’s definitely had worse. At least they’ve got plenty of the peach soju she likes here. She’s yet to try a cup from the vat of jungle juice, though. It looked frighteningly radioactive when she’d passed by it on the kitchen island.
Anyways, the point is that Jaehyun’s not sneaking up the stairs (had to dodge the fake yellow tape someone criss-crossed over its entryway) because the party sucks. She’s had her fair share of alcohol and at least four different people’s numbers, two guys and two girls, penned onto loose napkins, tucked under her bra (because the state of modern fashion is in shambles and no one designs skirts with usable pockets).
Jaehyun’s just—drunk, okay? And sometimes she stretches herself so thinly at intensely social gatherings in such little time that she exhausts herself. Completely. She has to get away from the crowd and the awful music and the frat guys hollering something, cups raised in the air, every other minute or so.
The rooftop should do. She can manage her way up and scale the side of the house. Not to brag or anything but she’s a seasoned veteran who’s done it several times before, though one time she did end up flat on the grass and slightly concussed. In any case, it’s hot and humid indoors and there’s sweat dripping down Jaehyun’s everything. It was a nice and sunny day out earlier so she’s sure she could gaze at some stars, enjoy the cool breeze of night once she’s on the roof.
Her best bet is climbing out a window. Maybe one of the second floor balconies she remembers seeing on her way in. Jaehyun walks a bit slower as she makes it onto the second floor. There’s a hallway of doors. Guest rooms. She checks the first few, twisting the doorknob: closed and locked. It’s probably for the best. She’d rather not walk in on a pair (or more, who knows) of people sloppily making out, hands slipping under waistbands. The last time Jaehyun made that mistake, they tried to convince her to join in on the fun. She would’ve even considered saying yes if the guy wasn’t so ugly.
To Jaehyun’s misfortune all of the non-bathroom doors are locked, aside from the last one, by some miracle. It’s closed, still, but the doorknob twists until it clicks and Jaehyun’s got the door cracked open. Finally, she thinks, with a resigned sigh, and pushes her way in without thinking too much of it.
Jaehyun gasps.
There’s—
“Leehan…?”
—a girl, a tall girl, standing at the foot of the bed, and Jaehyun very much recognizes who it is. The short hair, the curtain bangs swept to the sides of her narrow face. That usually gives it away.
The problem isn’t Leehan necessarily. Well, okay, maybe it is, because after Jaehyun’s eyes travel downward, after she takes in the sight of the third person in the room—a body, a guy, sprawled out on the bed, unmoving—she looks at Leehan again, and puts two and two together. A splotch of something dark on the guy’s neck. The same darkness coating the bottom half of Leehan’s face, around her mouth, her lips, dripping down her chin. Leehan stares back at Jaehyun, dead silent, mouth slightly open. Jaehyun doesn’t miss the shape of two sharp fangs peeking out, though they disappear by the time she blinks.
Jaehyun freezes where she is and dumbly enough, her hand moves back to very carefully, softly, shut the door behind her, as though their privacy is her main concern right now.
See, here’s the thing.
There’s a neon green lava lamp on the nightstand. A string of fairy lights, glittering, lining the window. Some asshole’s headlights shining through the windowpane. It’s eerie. The shape of Leehan’s tall nose, her chin, limned by the manmade colorscape. A bright sparkle or two in her eyes that make them look wet, almost. The rest of what Jaehyun sees in the room is dark and fuzzy.
Leehan’s really pretty. God, no, she’s gorgeous. She flashes her teeth when she tongues at the smear of blood above her mouth and it’s one of the only things Jaehyun can see clearly here. Her teeth are blunt now, a lot more human, and Jaehyun thinks something must be so immoral and wrong with her for wanting to watch Leehan do it again. Sink a pair of fangs in soft flesh. Break the skin and lap up the blood that beads there. What if Jaehyun was next, actually? What if it was her, under Leehan’s hungry mouth and glossy peachy lips?
Christ. That extra shot of Chamisul hasn’t been sitting well in her stomach.
The first thing that’s said between them is an awkward, “Um,” from Leehan. And as she’s saying this, her eyes are wide on Jaehyun, almost like she’s just as lost about the situation as Jaehyun is. But any semblance of innocence fades away as Leehan, quite guiltily, folds one corner of the blanket over the guy’s stomach. Like that’s helping her case at all.
Somehow, witnessing this right before her eyes, Jaehyun responds with: “I won’t tell anyone.”
Listen. Jaehyun knows she’s being recklessly stupid (but to be fair she’s always kind of like that, it’s her nature, you can’t fault her) but, god, god, since when was Leehan so drop-dead-gorgeous? This isn’t fair at all—you can’t throw Jaehyun in a room with a pretty girl and expect her to act properly! Frankly, Leehan’s the one to blame for Jaehyun feeling woozy and dazed and not immediately grabbing her phone to dial in a call for the ambulance or police or… animal control. Or something.
“This is just fruit punch,” Leehan suddenly says, turning towards Jaehyun. A beat later, she stops in her tracks, like she’d just then processed what Jaehyun said. “Oh.”
Jaehyun blinks. She should be scared, and she honestly kind of is, but… Leehan is so terribly, unapologetically herself. Not to mention the tiny drop of—erm, the guy’s blood, Jaehyun can only assume, that’s slowly trailing down from Leehan’s clavicle to the part of her chest that’s open and exposed in her puffy-sleeved, floral print crop top. Was it a floral print? That’s only what Jaehyun can vaguely recall from the start of the party. It’s always a blur, these things. Leehan had complimented Jaehyun’s outfit, she thinks, and then a group of swim team girls dragged Leehan away by the elbow before Jaehyun could finish absorbing hers to return the compliment. The top was cute, definitely. And her hips looked nice in the low-rise jeans…
Jaehyun clears her throat.
“Is he…” She points a finger. “He’s not, like, dead, is he?”
“Just unconscious,” Leehan says. “He has a pulse. I checked.”
Oh, Jaehyun thinks and nods her head, because Leehan’s calm and unhesitant answer must mean that she’s done this before, that she knows the drill. Relief washes over Jaehyun—like, okay, phew, she actually would’ve considered jumping out the window and running if Leehan had killed someone. She steps over to the bed, makes brief eye contact with Leehan, and haphazardly pulls the blanket over the guy to make it look at least sort of natural.
This is almost certainly like Jaehyun’s a willing accomplice, covering up the scene of the crime and all, just because the girl’s pretty and has shiny eyes and isn’t about to harm Jaehyun. Not like Leehan has said she won’t—but Jaehyun trusts her enough. She trusts in girlhood. You have to. And is it really that horrible of a crime if the guy was probably some type of jerk who deserved it, judging from his tank top and black Adidas and dangly cross earrings?
And sometimes, girlhood is standing in front of a bed, a guy with a bit of bloodspill on his neck napping on it, probably drunk and some amount of high, and turning to the girl who’s standing next to you, who’s got his blood painting some type of picture on her mouth.
Leehan, the girl in question, sniffs.
“He won’t remember.”
And Jaehyun, ever the saint, just says, “That’s nice, at least.”
Fast forward ten minutes, they’re in the bathroom.
Jaehyun’s standing against the closed door, hands folded together in front of her skirt as she waits. Keeping guard. Just in case—though it’s not like anyone at this party is sober enough to think of Leehan’s red stain as anything but the jungle juice from downstairs. It was cherry-themed, she’s pretty sure. That or watermelon. The same type of Red 40 concoction.
At the sink, Leehan is washing off the blood. She’s really scrubbing to get some spots off, and worried a bit about smudging her makeup, but Jaehyun had hit her with the “No offense, but are you really in the mood to get back in there?” Leehan’s hum and the splash of water she’d been gathering in her cupped palms onto her face spoke as her answer. Obviously, no, she’s not. That’s good, because Jaehyun isn’t either, but she still appreciates the company of a girl.
Leehan signals that she’s done and clean by, unfortunately, shaking the water droplets from her face like a dog after a run through the beach, and Jaehyun’s the one who has to snatch a towel from the upper shower rack. Despite Jaehyun having to get on her tippy-toes to reach it, and Leehan being obviously taller, Leehan just watches her with a smile in her eyes. There’s a pink flush across her nose and cheeks, a spread of color beneath the freckles, as she’s handed the towel with a thanks, unnie. Jaehyun says mm, and takes a step back to flatten herself against the door again.
It’s, well, um. Jaehyun is fiddling with her fingers, the fabric of her skirt as she’s standing there, watching, blinking. Admiring. She’s pressing her lips together and tasting her lip gloss in some dizzy form of totally, but not actually totally, unbridled want. Leehan’s finished toweling her face and some strands of her hair—dyed a really nice, rich color, like cherry wood—that’d gotten in the way during the quick wash and she’s looking up at Jaehyun.
The thing about the bathroom is that there’s bright fluorescent lighting, lights around the sink mirror because this is apparently a fancy fucking house, nothing like the dim guest room from before. And Leehan is, somehow, for some reason, way more mesmerizing like this.
Like, don’t get Jaehyun wrong, she knows Leehan’s always been pretty, everyone does if you’ve taken one look at her in person, but—ugh, there has to be something wrong with Jaehyun right now. Maybe it’s the alcohol. It’s gotta be. She just can’t help but feel the skin of her nape tickle and buzz, her stomach swooping whenever she looks in Leehan’s way, well-lit, sparkling. Silver spades of iridescent body glitter bedazzling her pale skin where it’s all exposed and tight over her clavicles and the gentle knobs in her neck.
It’s the smile that does it, really. A small, easy curl in Leehan’s plump lips, but nothing devious, nothing that’s screaming You’re my next meal, unnie, although—well. That doesn’t sound half bad. But that’s beside the point!
“Um, so,” Jaehyun starts, looking everywhere in the bathroom except for Leehan’s gaze until, finally, she looks at her, and loses her breath a little at the fact that she has to tip her head back to properly meet Leehan’s eyes. “You wanna sneak onto the roof with me?”
“The roof?” Leehan says. She leaves the wet towel as a messy, wadded-up topping to the pile of clean towels. Jaehyun wonders if she’s anywhere close to being wake-up-somewhere-in-a-tree drunk. Some people—people who aren’t Myung Jaehyun—are freakishly good at hiding it. “Sure.”
Leehan smiles, crescent-eyed. Something makes Jaehyun’s heart jitter in her chest, then, with equal probabilities of it being either the bass booming out of the downstairs speakers that’s shaking the entire house or some mysterious other thing. Girl math, you know.
They find one of the aforementioned balconies, studying it, trying to figure out how they’ll maneuver over it to crawl onto the roof. Leehan, surprisingly just as eager as Jaehyun is about it, straightens her spine as much as she can to see what’s there. When Jaehyun, still very much drunk, stumbles her footing and gets dangerously close to toppling over the balustrade, Leehan reacts sharply enough to wrap an arm around Jaehyun’s waist. While that was nice of her and they do share a set of giggles about it, Leehan’s arm stays there. Her fingers curled over Jaehyun’s hip bone. If Jaehyun’s trying to get sober, this is having the opposite exact effect on her. But her sense of shame remains intact, despite everything, and she doesn’t tell Leehan that it’s making her nervous, because fuck, it so is.
Think of something else. Something that isn’t her hand on your waist. Something like—
“Can you, like… fly?” is the first thing that pops into Jaehyun’s mind. “Like they do in movies?” She’s imagining—bats. Because vampires. Still feels so strange to think of it this way, but that blood, Leehan’s fangs. She wouldn’t believe it, either, if she hadn’t seen it all with her own eyes, and if there’s one thing she’s sure of, it’s her perception of everything around her.
Understandably, Leehan blinks, giving Jaehyun a puzzled tilt of her head. But then she peels her arm off of Jaehyun’s back, and she’s holding out her hand, showing her palm. Jaehyun’s first instinct is to furrow her brow at the gesture since this looks like the type of shit Riwoo would pull on her. Palm turned upward, eyes attentive, asking with a teasing lilt: Paw, puppy? Snack, puppy?
But Leehan says nothing. Keeps holding out her hand, expectant. Then there’s a gust of wind that makes Leehan’s hair flutter, curtain bangs framing her face effortlessly, and Jaehyun finally figures out what this is reminding her of. Imaginary roses and sparkles around Leehan’s face, like this is an old school shoujo romance. Or maybe, like, Howl’s Moving Castle, the scene that everyone knows, beautiful, handsome, romantic Howl holding Sophie’s hand in the sky. That’s my girl.
Her heart’s floating up to the clouds, and she gladly puts her hand in Leehan’s wider palm, except—well, her dream gets shattered, kinda, because Leehan’s hands are suddenly moving to her hips in a firm grip and, with no better way of putting it, Jaehyun gets manhandled onto the roof. Though, you know, this isn’t too bad of an experience in and of itself. She’s just glad there isn’t some scum-of-the-earth guy around to upskirt her as she clambers up, limb by limb.
Apparently, Jaehyun still appears bummed out about it even after hoisting Leehan onto the roof with two hands and a squeal of laborious effort. Leehan laughs, telling her, “I don’t have superpowers, unnie.”
So Jaehyun, the beast of conversation that she is, seizes the chance to branch off from there, asking Leehan if she does have special abilities, heightened senses, that sort of thing—concepts that she’s built solely around TV dramas and movies. Leehan laughs again, and in the vaguest way possible, avoids answering Jaehyun at all. Oh, well.
The rest of the evening, Jaehyun hardly remembers. They sit back and stare at the stars and snicker at someone who sounds an awful lot like Kim Woonhak shouting about his beloved Lakers jersey going missing. By the time Jaehyun’s clinging onto Leehan’s arm, pillowing her head onto her shoulder, she’s pretty much gone—she’s a sleepy, droopy type of drunk who can doze off anywhere. And by anywhere she really does mean anywhere. Just last month, it was a laundry hamper half her size, the proof of which is securely filed in Sungho’s camera roll.
Jaehyun falls asleep. Total blackout. The next day—not morning, because the digital clock on Sungho’s desk across the room reads 3 PM—Jaehyun wakes up, miraculously in her own bed, at her dorm back on campus.
She almost would’ve concluded all of last night’s events were part of a dream, if it weren’t for the fact that she was still in the same outfit, a headache was splitting her head in half, and, oddly enough, Leehan’s knockoff Doc Martens had been left at the door. How did she even forget to grab those on her way out?
It’s just morbid curiosity, Jaehyun tries to convince herself. Human nature is to be curious. You are normal, Myung Jaehyun!
“Maybe I could, um, you know, help you? Lure guys?”
Leehan’s eyes widen on her. Between them there’s a spread of open textbooks, Jaehyun’s hand-me-down Suetonius II and some origami cranes Sungho had folded together with pages of Leehan’s C+ econ report from last week. That was before she’d gotten up, reminded by Riwoo through a FaceTime call about something to do with their club—and Sungho had been the one to rent out the study room under her name, so Jaehyun and Leehan agreed to pretend Leehan was ‘Park Sungho’ if anyone came by to ask. Too many people recognize Jaehyun and her resting puppy face.
“You don’t kill them, right? And they don’t remember anything after the fact?” Jaehyun’s leaning over the table, elbows to its surface, definitely squishing her chest there. If Leehan happens to notice, well. All is well. Maybe they’ll even help in persuading Leehan.
“Well, no—”
“Then maybe it’s fine,” Jaehyun cuts in, eager, unable to sit still. “Maybe we get you another jerk at a party again and you can, you know. Do your thing.”
And it sounds more horrible and evil than Jaehyun means to be, but here’s the problem with that. How would you convey that you’re saying and doing this because, in the end, you want to relive the unbelievable amount of sheer gayness that overtook you when you saw Kim Leehan with a pair of fangs? Someone has to have some of their blood drained and it’s not about to be Jaehyun, even if… even if it sounds really hot and sexy—
“It’s okay,” Leehan says, voice smooth, an amused smile. “I don’t do that sort of thing often. I was just hungry.”
Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow. Seeing this, Leehan waves her hand.
“I promise I’m fine. I can go a while without doing it. I can eat normal food, too.”
Sure. Jaehyun’s clearly not the expert of the two on this. Vampirism, or whatever. She lets out a long breath and deflates over the table, the side of her face resting on Suetonius II. Exam season’s rough, and when Jaehyun’s really tired she starts to act like she’s delirious.
Jaehyun’s eyes flit to her left, where Leehan’s sitting. Leehan just smiles at her.
“I’d do anything for you, Leehanie, you know that?”
Leehan gathers up loose sheets of paper, tucks them into her binder. There’s an ugly fish doodle scratched onto the corner of its front cover—Riwoo’s handiwork, no doubt. Leehan does kind of let people do as they please if she likes them enough.
“I know,” Leehan says. “You’re a really lovely person, Jaehyun-unnie.”
And Jaehyun knows that, she’s self-aware, she gets told a lot about how kind and compassionate she is, but there’s something different about Leehan telling her this, to her face. In the context of their conversation, especially. The heat of equal parts joy and embarrassment rushes to Jaehyun’s cheeks, her ears. She jerks up from the table, a Pompompurin mechanical pencil rolling down to the floor in her wake, Leehan leaning out of her chair to fetch it for her.
“And— And I don’t think of you any different after finding, um…” Jaehyun sits back down. Calmly, this time. “After finding that out about you. You’re just Kim Leehan to me.”
But is that even the truth? Jaehyun pouts as she thinks about it. Is she the same Kim Leehan? She is—but Leehan’s been, kind of, strangely, way more dazzling and pretty and attractive ever since that party. Like she’s still Kim Leehan, but dialed up to 200 in Jaehyun’s eyes, and now Jaehyun… just doesn’t really know what to think of it?
There’s a light, airy laugh. “You’re just Myung Jaehyun to me too,” Leehan says, and before Jaehyun does anything, like make a kissy face at her to be silly, Leehan’s looking down at her to sweep a hand through Jaehyun’s faded honey-blonde hair. She brushes it over Jaehyun’s shoulder, combs the rest of the stray strands behind her ear, just to see Jaehyun’s face better, and now that she does, Leehan flashes the prettiest, melty smile ever at her.
She would do anything for Leehan. Anything to see her with blood on her teeth again. But you’d understand if you were in Jaehyun’s shoes, right? Right??
Okay. So maybe Jaehyun isn’t exactly normal about her.
There are things that Jaehyun starts noticing about Leehan. Really noticing. Like how she’s truly never seen Leehan eating a proper meal—even if there’s a plate in front of her, Riwoo’s the one to swoop in and finish up whatever Leehan doesn’t eat, and Leehan encourages her to anyway—and she’s usually just snacking on gummies, saying she prefers the chewy ones when Jaehyun asks about it. How Leehan’s kinda pale, but not Twilight vampire type of shimmery pale, and doesn’t go outside often, though she doesn’t seem to use any special precautions regarding UV rays. Unless Leehan only goes out around sundown. Jaehyun swears she’s only seen her later in the day, but she wouldn’t know if Leehan does head out at noon or not. For all she knows it could be both, or neither at all. Schrodinger’s Leehan? Anyway, aside from that, come to think of it, Leehan’s hands have always been cold and clammy whenever Jaehyun reaches for them, and she always shakes her head politely to say No, I’m fine, whenever anyone asks if she needs the window closed or the heater switched on.
All of which is to say, the simple fact is that Jaehyun spends a lot of time thinking about Leehan now. Much more than all the other people occupying a space in her head. Hm.
“Well, it’s just,” Jaehyun’s saying, curled up in the middle of the sky-blue-gray couch.
Riwoo’s sitting at one end because this is her apartment and she’s working on a midterm project on her laptop. Sungho’s at the opposite end because she and Jaehyun had crashed here for no particular reason. Leehan’s at an evening lecture. The commonality here is Jaehyun being roommates with Sungho, Sungho knowing Riwoo from KSA, and Riwoo being roommates with Leehan. They’re a group of four that came together naturally. Though, Jaehyun and Leehan are furthest from each other in the formula of their dynamics, so they’re not as close as they are to the other two. Jaehyun had only met her last year, winter, and never paid much attention to her since she’s always been sort of there. Not in a bad sense—just that Leehan’s a constant. Comfortable, but nothing too special.
Until now, evidently.
Jaehyun’s ensuing silence prompts Sungho to ask, not even looking up from her phone, “Just?”
And Jaehyun swallows and inhales through her nose.
“It’s just, have you ever… thought about how tall Leehan is?”
Then Jaehyun looks up, looks at both of her sides, where Sungho and Riwoo are flanking her, now looking away from their devices and back at Jaehyun with quiet but knowing expressions, like the perceptive people they are.
Sungho says nothing. Riwoo opens her mouth, “Jaehyun… You like Leehan, don’t you?”
That’s when Jaehyun starts crying. Ugly sobbing, hiccuping. She’s hugging herself, arms around the knees, so Sungho exhales and rubs Jaehyun’s arm and coos at her It’ll be fine, seriously, you don’t have to cry about it, while Riwoo is also patting Jaehyun’s head even while being laser-focused on her project, expertly maneuvering the twenty something tabs simultaneously open on Firefox.
“I’ll order you a treat later,” Riwoo says, as if she’s fooling anyone with her thinly veiled hunger for sweets.
Sungho’s shaking her head, offering Jaehyun the lavender-scented tissue pack from her bag. “Jaehyun-ah, what’s with you? You never get all—” She plucks a tissue out herself to swipe the snot from Jaehyun’s nose. “—gross about girl crushes.”
“It’s not fair,” Jaehyun wails, still shaking with tears, but considerably more calm than she was just a few minutes ago. She latches onto Riwoo’s arm, and Riwoo types on, unbothered. “She’s so pretty, and handsome, and she’s super tall, and she’s so weird and I really can’t stop thinking about her! What am I supposed to do!”
Sungho scrunches her face. She’s definitely judging Jaehyun. Definitely.
“Just, be you?” she offers, sounding unsure.
“Fighting,” Riwoo adds on, pumping her fist.
Suddenly sober, but not really, Jaehyun cups her hands over her mouth.
“Guys, please be honest,” she says, muffled, a slightly crazed look in her eyes. “Is it normal to wonder what your crush would look like with blood on her hands?”
As weird of a question as it is, that’s still with extra padding on it. Jaehyun isn’t wondering. She’s seen it already. Fantasize would probably be a more accurate term for it. Reminiscing. Yearning?
The response is this. Sungho pulling a theatrical face that indicates she’s so disgusted she’s impressed.
“Jaehyun, you don’t even. You can’t even watch movies with more than a cup of bloodshed without hiding under a blanket.”
Then there’s Riwoo with her flat affect, turning to Jaehyun, shutting her laptop, going, “You’re really gay, you know, have I ever told you that? But in like, a pathetic way.”
Jaehyun starts crying again.
Neither disappointed nor surprised, Riwoo leaves her laptop on the coffee table and says, Okay Jaehyun, alright, c’mere as she wraps her arms around Jaehyun’s shoulders, You too, Sungho. They know Jaehyun well enough to not take the waterworks seriously—it’s just another burst of emotion, it happens semi frequently, Jaehyun’ll be fine. They hug it out, still, three bodies clumped together on the couch. Some extra strokes of Jaehyun’s head, Sungho redoing the clips holding Jaehyun’s hair behind her ears.
“You guys are really nice,” Jaehyun sniffs.
It’s sometime after the three-way hug disbands and they’re back to their original spots on the couch, Jaehyun picking at a thread on her sleeve, that a mysterious pair of arms, cold to the touch, comes in from behind and hooks around Jaehyun’s neck. Someone’s hair, a face nuzzling into the back of her head. She jumps in her seat and screams a little. It’s Leehan, back from lecture, but she doesn’t know it yet—and when she does find out by whipping her head around, finding Leehan’s fond eye smile right there, she screams again.
“I thought we were hugging,” Leehan says, laughing.
Sungho’s wincing, rubbing her poor ears. “She’s having a moment,” she tells Leehan.
And usually, that’s a pretty apt way of putting it. Jaehyun and her moments. Leehan nods and crosses her arms over the sofa back, leaning down, much too close for Jaehyun’s heart rate to be normal and healthy. The lamp light from the living room side table is a warm reflection in Leehan’s big eyes, and she’s got lip gloss on again. Not like Jaehyun is fixated on the curve of her pretty lips or anything.
From Riwoo’s end of the couch: “Leehan-ah, you’re coming with us to that party on Saturday, right? You haven’t forgotten or anything?”
“What party?” Leehan asks sincerely.
Jaehyun sits up. “Wait, what party?”
Riwoo just sends both their ways a pointed look. “I hope you guys own some sort of beachwear. Mine aren’t going to fit either of you.”
Luckily, they both do—unearthed from the depths of their closets, messy things. Sungho’s scolded Jaehyun for not organizing her wardrobe before, lots of times, and Jaehyun had to physically block her from trying to get her hands on the clutter on their designated spring cleaning day. Which mostly ended up meaning Sungho did the hard work, the nitty-gritty of it, and Jaehyun fled to whatever corner of the dorm Sungho wasn’t actively scrutinizing.
It’s a cute swim dress. Jaehyun thinks so, at least, that’s what Riwoo told her, but Riwoo always calls her cute, by habit or something. Comparatively, surely, Jaehyun’s dress is cute. White lace, white ribbons, a bow on the back, puffy translucent sleeves—like a princess, in a crowd of a rainbow of bikinis. They’re out on the beach despite it being mid September. At least it’s still warm around these parts, though Sungho had warned her and the others to bring an extra layer for when it gets dark. She’s definitely right, but Jaehyun ignored her anyway. The drinks should keep her buzzing with warmth through the night.
Jaehyun’s here as Sungho’s plus one, Leehan as Riwoo’s. So it’s probably some KSA related event that Jaehyun hasn’t bothered to ask for details on. What matters is that it’s a party and there’s a crowd full of faces she’s met before, some sort of soju cocktail—it’s always soju at these parties, not that she’s complaining—oscillating in clear plastic cups everyone’s got.
The four of them get their drinks, and Sungho and Riwoo are already gone, KSA business, leaving Leehan under Jaehyun’s supervision. Or Jaehyun under Leehan’s supervision, more likely.
Speaking of Kim Leehan. This is Jaehyun’s first time seeing her so not wearing clothes, and it’s a bit. Um. Wow. She’s got on by all means an ordinary outfit—a plain black sporty bikini, long beach skirt, thigh split, her bare legs and tallness on full display. She gets a real, full once-over of Leehan’s figure once they’re standing off to the side, sipping their drinks, just staring at each other, listening to the beat drop from the DJ booth somewhere in the thick of the crowd.
Like, jeez. Jaehyun’s gripping her cup a little too tight, misshaping it, but who cares because Leehan is so crazy beautiful and gorgeous.
She’s—really tall and lean, kind of like an athlete, except Jaehyun’s pretty sure she doesn’t work out outside of swimming. For a while Jaehyun had been jealous of girls like Leehan, long limbs, skinny and flat, built boyish. Girls who would so be mistaken for a skinny twink in the wrong (right?) outfit, whereas Jaehyun’s still got that persistent bit of fat on her arms and tummy and thighs.
Jaehyun eventually figured out it wasn’t jealousy at all. She just found them really, really hot and attractive, actually—and Jaehyun should be grateful for her D cups! Some people simply weren’t as fortunate.
And maybe her chest does look nice to Leehan today, with the super low cut of her swim dress, cleavage visible, because sometimes Leehan’s gaze might be flickering down to Jaehyun’s torso, her chest… Ah, but no, probably not knowing Leehan (and knowing Jaehyun herself). Maybe she’d just dropped some crumbs of those shrimp chips she and Riwoo fought over in Sungho’s car on their way here. Maybe it’s just some insignificant grains of sand. No need to get her hopes up.
They meander around the crowd for the most part, clutching their drinks, saying a cheerful Hey! Hi! to anyone whose face lights up at the sight of Jaehyun. There are heaps of people here—way more than the last party she was at—and the air’s stirring with laughter and hoots and, as always, a bunch of dudes chanting whatever. They’re not all that bad, though, especially because Han Taesan’s here, and by virtue Kim Woonhak is also present.
To Taesan, sporting a plain white tee and swim trunks, Jaehyun says hi, and Leehan also waves her hand hello, which feels kind of impersonal for two people who graduated from the same class, same high school, but—not part of Jaehyun’s business. Jaehyun puts on a wide, toothy, welcome smile. Taesan stares down at her.
She does a little twirl. “How do I look?”
Three seconds pass and Taesan says, “You look okay, noona.”
Jaehyun juts out her lips. She nudges Leehan gently, “What about Leehanie?”
Taesan briefly makes eye contact with Leehan. Then it’s back to Jaehyun.
“She looks pretty,” he answers.
That’s the point when it falls apart—Leehan glancing at Jaehyun, smile gummy, Jaehyun feigning annoyance by going Ya, Han Taesan! and sizing him up like she’s about to throw a punch or two, even if they’ll just land with some cartoonish plushie squeak sound effect. Instead she’s opening her arms and Taesan relents, reaching down to Jaehyun’s 5’4, embracing her with a light and reluctant touch but that’s okay, because there’s kindness in it that Jaehyun beams at once they’ve drawn out of the hug. Then Woonhak skitters by and Taesan, face faintly pink and wrinkled in something obvious, nosedives with Woonhak back into the crowd.
There’s not much that transpires between then and now. Sometime when Jaehyun’s had a couple of shots and Leehan’s still, well, the same as ever, even though she’s matching Jaehyun’s pace with the alcohol, there’s a group of five or so girls that approach them. All pretty and dolled up, fluttering their lashes at… Leehan, specifically. One of the girls even puts her hand on Leehan’s arm, gel-manicured fingers curled over it.
They’re smiling at each other. Giggling. Jaehyun flashes them a warm smile too, a hideous beast simmering somewhere down in her gut, drowning, clawing at her innards.
The girls are gone in a flurry of excitement not long after. Someone’s calling for Everclear shots in the center and there’s a crowd of eager viewers gathering. Leehan doesn’t seem to particularly care, just as Jaehyun expects. She pulls her aside, not too far, just enough of a distance from the speakers and the pack of noisy frat dudes so they can have a conversation without having to shout.
There’s been a question burning at the back of Jaehyun’s throat, aside from the sting of soju and what she’s pretty sure is a pinch of the damn Everclear someone sneaked in the mix—a very important question.
“Do you always drink from guys?” she asks. “What about, like… girls?”
See, Jaehyun doesn’t know if Leehan’s into girls. Although it’s likely, because everyone in Riwoo’s circle of friends is queer one way or another, she couldn’t be too sure. And if Leehan doesn’t pick up what Jaehyun’s putting down, ever so discreetly, behind her question—well, Jaehyun’s probably got some work cut out for her. She’s never been good at signaling either way since she’s never had to. Girls are just, kind of drawn to her. People are.
“I’m just curious,” Jaehyun tacks on after not hearing an immediate response from Leehan. For good measure. And because she’s very discreet.
Leehan blinks at her. Says, “I don’t go to parties to look for that.” Which is such an incredible non-answer to the meat of Jaehyun’s question that Jaehyun despairs about it just a little bit.
But if anything, she’s not one to throw in the towel so soon.
“Well,” Jaehyun says. “Then why do you go to parties? For—guys?”
Surely Leehan must get it now. The wholly unnecessary last bit of Jaehyun’s impromptu interview. If she looks down at Jaehyun, and she definitely is, she’ll see that there’s desperation written all over Jaehyun’s face. Her pouty lips, drooping eyebrows. Even the way she’s tapping her two index fingers together, though that’s more on reflex, and also Jaehyun should probably stop judging from the way her cup’s tilted at a risky angle because of it.
“Ah,” Leehan says, and there’s a pause somewhere in the space between them, and it brings Jaehyun a shred of hope. Then, Leehan’s eye-smiling, almost as though it’s meant to sub as an apology, “Not really.”
Jaehyun’s lips flatten into a line. So like. What the fuck does that even mean.
“I’m only really here because the unnies insisted.” Leehan takes a sip—a long one, bottom up. They’re due for a visit back to the bar, then. Her gaze is trained back onto Jaehyun. “I thought you liked going to parties with me.”
“I do. I like it when you’re around,” Jaehyun says. The end of her sentence trails off, shy to admit it.
Leehan’s teeth and pink gums show in her smile. All very human. Jaehyun tries to distract herself with her drink, downs the rest of it. The now empty cup crinkles in her hand, asking to be filled again.
“What about you?” Leehan asks.
“Umm.” Jaehyun at least tries to think about it. A non suspicious answer. “I just like meeting people. Which you probably already know.”
There’s a swell of house music, a collective cheer over some kind of ongoing drinking game, probably, and Leehan’s eyebrows lifting on her forehead.
“We should go do that, unnie.”
“You’re right,” Jaehyun says, raising her voice, back to smiling wide and dumb and happy. She goes for Leehan’s free hand, grabs it. Why’s she being so apprehensive, anyway? The bar’s right over there. “But not before thirds! Or was it fourths?”
Leehan shrugs. Jaehyun strides on with a huff of laughter, and Leehan slowly, but firmly, slots her cold fingers into the space between Jaehyun’s. “Who’s counting?”
It’s kind of a weird rest of the day slash night. There’s a moment where they meet up with Sungho and Riwoo again, only briefly, and while they’re in the middle of the tangle of bodies, Leehan does things—really weird and nice things, like putting her hand on Jaehyun’s waist again, blocking a guy from apparently creepily stalking behind her and trying to blend in ‘with the girls’. And Jaehyun’s not sure what Riwoo’s trying to say, one bleached eyebrow quirked up at her, “Need someone tall to look after ya, huh?” Like that’s supposed to mean anything. Honestly, Jaehyun had forgotten that she’d, well, confessed, rather embarrassingly too, in front of those two. It’s not like them to act as wingwomen. All they care about is that Jaehyun doesn’t end up in a ditch somewhere, a concern that’s heightened seeing the stretch of sand around them.
Plus, if Leehan is gay, neither of them have been generous enough to give Jaehyun the heads up! She was really counting on Riwoo, you know!
In any case. There’s not much that happens and at the same time everything is happening. Jaehyun remembers a flash of Woonhak balancing like five watermelon rinds on his arm, gross, him sprinting over to the water with Taesan—and they’re still out there somewhere, two tall figures poking out from the sea, wrestling each other, sunset bleeding orange over them. Several different people are pressed to Jaehyun at some point but the only one that’s stuck to her memory is the feeling of a taller, colder body behind her, arms coming around her, draped over her shoulders. Soft laughter by her ear, Jaehyun-unnie, sweet and inviting. Inviting…?
It’s warm out here—the alcohol in her system, the crowd of people. Then there’s the breeze carrying the salt of the sea that blows at her hair, and there’s Leehan by her side the whole time. A comfortable type of chill that raises goosebumps on Jaehyun’s skin.
The sky’s dimming, splashed in a vibrant red-orange-violet. It’s darker now, lights are on, it’s harder to discern people’s individual faces. More people out on the shore, near the water, splashing each other. Some seagulls squawk over the waves and Leehan, loosely holding Jaehyun close to her—someone to look after her or whatever Riwoo had said—abruptly turns her head in the direction of the water, saying nothing.
Jaehyun, noticing, opens her mouth to ask, because Leehan’s got this sharp look in her eyes. Her mouth stays slightly open as she sees it’s Sungho and Riwoo padding through the sand, notably with a worried crease in Sungho’s brow and Riwoo just laughing, holding up her thumb.
“There was a crab,” Riwoo says, proudly showing the fresh, red cut on her thumb to Leehan and Jaehyun. “It didn’t like me.”
Sungho snorts. “You were trying to pick it up, of course it didn’t like you.”
“I was grabbing it because you said something about having crab legs for dinner.”
“It was tiny!” Sungho says, exasperated. “How are we supposed to eat something that barely has a bite of meat on it?”
Jaehyun’s dazed by now, and she doesn’t care all that much about crabs, so she’s hardly listening—she glances up at Leehan, at her gaze pointed in the general direction of Riwoo’s thumb and in her head she’s going, Oh. Blood. Had she… smelled it? From that far?
“You do have to be careful with them, even if they’re small,” Leehan says. “Their pincers are pretty sharp.”
Riwoo’s canines peek out of her mouth when she grins wide, a wry look. “You sure I’m not gonna bleed out to death, Doc?”
“Let’s just get a band-aid for you,” Sungho says with an exhale, already pushing Riwoo forward. “There was a first aid kit somewhere by the cooler boxes.” Cheery and clearly quite drunk, Riwoo waves her hand—the one with the bleeding thumb—at the two as she’s ushered away.
And then, there’s Leehan’s voice calling out to Jaehyun, “I want to go find the crab,” and a hand around Jaehyun’s wrist to lead her towards the sea.
Before Jaehyun can even protest she’s being dragged down the shore. The crash of the waves and fizzing seafoam grows louder and louder, all the way until the sand starts to feel damp and heavy under their feet. Clumps around their bare toes.
“Exacting revenge for Riwoo?” Jaehyun asks.
Leehan laughs. “Something like that.”
She’s got an interesting idea of exacting revenge—they do, in fact, find the crab of the hour, though it’s only after Jaehyun has a very close encounter with it and Leehan catches her before she trips and falls and screams because a crab almost grazed her heel. Leehan picks it up with a fearless, practiced hand, knowing how to avoid its pincers.
She turns it belly-up, showing it to Jaehyun. The full crab is no larger than her palm. “Look,” she says, pointing at the shell of its stomach. “It’s a girl crab. You can tell by the shape here in the center.”
Even with Leehan’s expertise, Jaehyun’s cowering behind her a little. “That’s nice,” Jaehyun says, sincere yet frightful. “Um, could you put it down now. It looks scary.”
“Does it?” Leehan just asks. Moves the crab and its wriggling legs a bit closer to Jaehyun, even.
“It has a lot of legs,” Jaehyun whimpers. “And it’s not as cute when it’s upside-down.”
Leehan shrugs her shoulders. In a they’re all cute to me kind of way. Jaehyun gets it. Kim Leehan and her doting-parent-stupid vision of all sea and sometimes land creatures. Crouching to her knees, she gently lets the little crab go, and they watch it crab-walk away until it’s too dark and fuzzy in the distance for them to see it among the sand and drag of the waves.
From there it’s just them, the sea, the night creeping in. Wading through the knee-high water (if you’re Kim Leehan, it’s shin-high) rather aimlessly. Just feeling the push and pull of the waves, feeling them rock their bodies gently, side to side. It gets all slow and smooth like a stir of honey in a cup of hot tea—their hands held together, following each other through the water, getting used to the temperature until it’s just them. A sweet haze, thick like a cloud. Feeling confident and safe in the water in the slightly likely scenario she gets swept away because Leehan’s like a mermaid, in her element. The water’s her best place. Her prettiest, if you weren’t Myung Jaehyun and you hadn’t seen the truest, most elusive part of her.
But Jaehyun has. She’s special. No one else knows this about Leehan. She’s different from everyone else and Leehan knows she’s special in that way. That’s really what it boils down to, isn’t it? Girlhood when it goes beyond convention—when it’s something hidden from everyone else, like a string tied to their hearts, all bloody and red and disguised as another unassuming artery.
And when Leehan takes a couple steps ahead of Jaehyun, exclaiming that she thinks she saw a sea eel drift by, it’s like this: the moon’s over the horizon, all silver and gray craters, and she’s a halo around Leehan’s face when Leehan turns back (THANKFULLY not clutching an eel squirming wildly) glowing with a smile at Jaehyun. A pair of wings on Leehan’s back, moonlight over the line of her shoulders, her arms, hugging her waist.
If the water was any higher, Jaehyun’s sure, she’s so so sure, that she’d be drowning away.
“You look,” Jaehyun says. “Really cool at night.”
Leehan turns her body fully, and she says, “Do I?”
“Yeah.” Jaehyun’s standing perfectly still, staring at Leehan, realizing. “Like, back at that other party.”
“In the bedroom,” Leehan elaborates for her, because she—knows, doesn’t she? She’s taking a step forward, closer to Jaehyun. The moonlight follows like an aura. Does she know?
“Yeah…”
“Cooler than I look right now?” Leehan asks next, but what she’s doing is stopping so close in front of Jaehyun. Looking down at her. A wave comes crashing by, swaying their bodies, and Leehan reaches for Jaehyun. Two hands on her hips, holding her steady. Pulling her a little closer, just a little more.
“It’s,” Jaehyun mutters, honestly not able to hear Leehan very well with what chorus of sea foam and water and her blood roaring in her ears.
Leehan’s fingers are cold, even more so out here when it’s dark and windy, but there’s a blaze to the touch where she—she goes right for the diamond cuts in the side of Jaehyun’s dress that bares her skin. It’s very precise. Too precise to be an accident.
“It’s… hard to say, but you are really pretty right now, too, so…”
Horrifically enough, they fall into silence after this—a confession in its own right, though Jaehyun didn’t exactly plan on this when they’d pitter-pattered down here. But maybe it’s alright since Leehan’s hands are still there, on her hips, touching her. Maybe it’s just fine from the way Leehan’s leaning forward, chest-first, and closing in on the gap between their bodies until she’s properly pressed flush at the pelvis to Jaehyun.
And then Leehan makes up for it by asking her, “Are you going to kiss me, or should I?”
Either way works, Jaehyun thinks. But if she’s letting her heart soar to an honest place tonight, she thinks she’ll have to whisper, lips parted, “Kiss me?”
“Ah, Jaehyun-unnie,” Leehan just whispers back, “Cute.”
Jaehyun feels the tiny smile of Leehan’s lips on hers, then. She has her hands wandering a little, not quite sure where’s the best part here, what Leehan would like her to do, but eventually settles on Leehan’s back, too. Somewhere behind her waist, the shallow dip before she reaches the knobs of her lower spine. She’s a good height to place her hands there. It’s nice.
Leehan kisses soft, but it’s long and lingering and says several things that might make Jaehyun’s head explode if she tries to comprehend all of it at once. For now she picks out the most important thing, that being the plushness of Leehan’s lips and her, ah, really, deviously good, slow movement of them against Jaehyun’s mouth.
Leehan must be in tune with what she wants, because she’s prying Jaehyun’s lips open, wider, albeit gently, pressing her tongue in only when she feels Jaehyun’s mouth soften around her. Jaehyun, surprisingly not as ashamed about whining at Leehan kissing her harder, splays her fingers out along Leehan’s back. In return, Leehan’s gripping her, really getting a handful of Jaehyun’s famously soft, squishy body.
There’s a certain shiver that shoots down Jaehyun’s back, her limbs and joints weak like jelly as she gasps, or something like a gasp on Leehan’s lips, after feeling the graze of Leehan’s teeth somewhere on her. She’s not sure, it’s all very numb right now. Just—fuck, Leehan’s kissing her, she’s so good at kissing, and Jaehyun just felt her teeth, even if for a millisecond. She gets a mental flash of Leehan from before—the fangs, everything, and her whole body’s buzzing after the thought crosses her mind. Fuck, who is she kidding. She wants to feel them sink in her skin, too. Her neck. Anywhere, actually, but the neck’s the standard, though maybe Leehan would prefer something with more to chew, like her thighs? That’d hurt like a motherfucker though, wouldn’t it? But maybe it’d be worth it, or—
A breath of fresh air kicks the life, and partially her sanity, back into Jaehyun. They back away a few inches, just looking at each other, watching the other catch her breath. It’s good that it’s so dark out here. Jaehyun doesn’t even want to think about how red her face must be, drunkenness aside.
“I,” Jaehyun says, panting, “I think I need some water, Leehanie.”
“There’s plenty around us,” Leehan says, and ends up giggling on her own at Jaehyun’s dumbstruck face. “Yeah, let’s head back. Are you cold, unnie?”
“A little,” Jaehyun says. Leehan grabs one of her hands, this time straight to interlacing their fingers, no hesitance, and treads over to shore.
Somewhere inside Jaehyun, there’s a tiny voice trying to fight its way out. Blood, it’s saying, pleading, but not someone else’s this time, You want Leehan’s teeth, and if she wants your lips, what if she’ll want your blood—
Jaehyun shakes it out of her mind.
Another time, maybe. There’s just too much else going on for Jaehyun right now. Too much of her heart thumping in her chest. Too much of a stupidly giddy, enamored, cheek-dimpling smile across her face, and the girl that’s leading her by the hand, unabashedly matching her stupid smile.