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"Minji?"
To be honest, Bora isn't even sure their leader can pick that up surrounded by the heavy steam and rumbling boil in the half-open kitchen she can hear and see even from all the way across the living room. She rubs her eyes as she yawns, fully prepared to call again from the deep inhale she has taken, and it has been too late when she makes out a moving shadow behind her half-closed eyelids. All the air within the lungs that seriously has been through too much every day is pushed out in a oof, and she struggles once within the arms that she has underestimated exactly how strong they are, before struggling some more, putting real efforts in them, too. To no avail.
So those back days weren't as scarce as she has been made to believe.
"Minji," her ferociousness is lost to the neck that smells faintly of body lotions but no perfume, where her face is pressed against. She swings her arms around trying to attack the armpits but fails to reach her targets. "If you don't let go of me by the count to three..."
"Bora-yah," the sometimes infuriatingly sweet and gleeful voice rings out from where her forehead is kissed. "I miss you too - "
This also infuriates Bora, not the way their oldest sprinkles the members with her love not unlike someone would bury their face in a fluffy animal and inhale its cuteness, but more from how she does not accept no for an answer when she does, her usually soft and malleable image - not that this side of Minji is a disguise by any mean, far from it. Just a factual profile of her common impression toward the world, those that do not know her as much as the kids do - replaced by a sense of firmness devoid of any edges, leaving no excuse, room, or way to laugh it off for any member "unfortunate" enough to be at the center of the attention when she does.
There can always be another possibility where, rather than annoyance, she feels.. shy? No. 100% impossible. Kim Bora is immune to second-hand embarrassment that can break the strongest soul unlucky to witness the scene. It comes in handy sometimes, in many ways, when you think about how being not afraid of make a fool of yourself can grant you many bonuses, added entertainment for one.
How dramatic it has to be for someone like her to feel embarrassed?
"Kim Minji," she changes her tactics, because she is resourceful and flexible. "Whatever you're cooking is going to overcook soon."
It pulls a yelp from the human-shaped clamp as she lets go and hurries away, the image of pajamas with bunny patterns filling her vision, which entangles Bora in a new wave of emotions. Not to mention her brain that has freshly woken up from a nap with an underestimated length is being anything but helpful right now. Everything feels too fast and too slow at the same time, a video recording playing on 0.5x times with its audio recording playing on 2.0.
Pajamas. Minji is wearing pajamas. She is wearing clothes.
Despite it being their hard-earned day off, Bora has repeatedly asked her roommate that looks like nothing but a puppy overconfident with her task to wake her up exactly one hour later, her alarm on the phone somehow out of work for the past few days. Judging by the way she has immediately felt the lack of another presence in the room - as unbelievable as it sounds, after all these years, the bonds between all of them have pretty much evolved into straight-up telepathy like this; sometimes things are things like this - and the dimming sunlight, that dummy that has apparently screwed up something as simple as this is definitely long gone, knowing the certain smite she would have faced if she stayed. The dancer does not enjoy prolonged naps, time-consuming and mind-jumbling as they go, along with some sort of sensory dissonance not unlike sleep deprivation, and - the most serious of all in her opinion - sentimentality.
Kim Yoohyeon will get her share of ass whooping when she gets back; she has way too many methods to discipline the kids. Right now? She needs to figure out what exactly the other mom wants.
She yawns again as she drags her lead-filled legs and body into the source of the magical mist, sniffing. The heavy steam must comes from some sorts of soup: fresh, not heavily spiced so the most prominent flavor gets well kept, and the hours-long brewing really brings out the best wildness in the mixture. The vision is limited with the fog, but she glances down at the half-full trash can and picks up the ingredients from the peeled off shells and stems.
"Breaking out the good stuffs," she whistles. "What's the occasion?"
The figure facing away from her has left herself wide open, so Minji really shouldn't have been surprised into smashing the ladle into the pot with a thud instead of the occasional clanking against it as she mixes it up when a small hand grabs ahold of her butt.
"Bora-yah."
Her tone remains ever so gentle, brimming with smile and love simmering in the same fashion as the no doubt delicious broth over the stove.
The butt hunter puts on her familiarized innocence from her millions of hunts. "What? You're the one that always want me to touch you only when we are left alone-"
"No, not that."
When Minji turns and reaches out to grab her by the shoulders, she has a navy blue apron over her pajama shirt, and the several suspicious patches of darkness over it keeps her body away as much as possible so that Bora won't have any of those stains pressed onto hers.
"We are celebrating, yes."
"Hm?"
She still speaks in that steady, calming, pleasant way, head tilt as she regards the short woman with stars in her eyes, grinning, eased up, affirming. Her hands move up and down the shoulders and upper arms that she hasn't even realized how tense they are and squeezes here and there, massaging the muscles that have long needed this.
"Celebrating you."
Bora gives an incredulous laugh. "Me?"
"Yes. You finally rested well."
Her eyes widen instantly and she is just about to start a tantrum - because she definitely has been resting well, what the hell Kim Minji, nothing but nonsense from that pretty mouth all day - when a literal scream is ripped out of her throat by the pain shooting from where one side of her quad is squeezed with force so harsh she sees stars, shaking away the hand as she does. The other woman doesn't flinch, the extremely annoying smile lingering, one hand holding onto the other elbow as she watches the shorter woman shake some more in irritation, as if she could get rid of this tangible irk like Cherry that would turn into a tiny white tornado after a shower.
"Go wash your hand. Dinner's ready." The way Minji sniffs remarkably resembles a small animal that anyone would coo on seeing her, filtering through the countless olfactory messages in the big world. "Fetch the kids, will you?"
The address thrown around between them so casually as if it is the plainest truth always manages to wrap a layer of warmth around her heart, as well as raise her eyebrows.
"I thought they were out?"
The dorm can't be so uncharacteristically quiet otherwise. At least she can half recall Dong and Gahyun have decided to visit the new amusement park the Chinese woman has been wishing to go for a while today. Yubin in her studio again. Siyeon... what did Siyeon say she would do again?
And of course, the aforementioned idiot who is too afraid to stick around the ground zero.
"They were, but I called them back," Minji winks at her naturally but not condescendingly as she reaches for the stacks of bowls and plates in the cupboards previously piled neatly by the woman still confused about what is happening. It isn't completely unpredictable, but unorthodox nonetheless.
"To... celebrate that I rested?"
"Yep."
"Did you smash your head into a wall or something?"
"Nope."
"Where's that brat?"
"She should be home soon. I only sent her to buy some dessert. And stop being mad at her. I was the one who asked her to not wake you."
Bora gasps through gritted teeth as she points an accessary finger. She has finally come to realization what really is happening, how their forever reliable and dependable leader is taking care of one of her loved ones seamlessly, but she keeps her facade of reluctance up, a game the taller woman is always amused to indulge. Everyone knows how stiff and at loss their mom can be at receiving love compared to how freely she gives them, and just like all of her pretense and insecurities, Minji always sees right through her. After that, as if having found her favorite type of cat food, feeding from the palms of Minji has grown as logical as the fact that the roasted meat handed by the same woman will always be perfectly singed just the way she likes it.
This also reminds her of the empty stomach. When did she have lunch again?
She grumbles begrudgingly and puts her hand down, giving in. "What dessert."
"Remember the bakery next to where we went for two broadcasts back to back last week?"
"Cheesecakes?!"
Minji seems utterly indifferent to the suddenly raised volume. Is her smile stuck by some sort of seccotine or what? "No, you don't like cheese, so I told her to bring you lemon tarts instead."
Someone knocks on the door precisely this moment, almost well-scripted. It provokes Bora again, who has barely calmed down for less than five seconds. She stomps toward the door, 99% sure who is behind.
"Yah, someone forgot her keys again... not even surprised... I'm going to..."
Bora carries on her act of complains, when in fact she is straining her ears to listen in the music of laughters behind, so carefree it sends her heart into swelling with ease and content, too.