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ohmygirlexchange2016-12-24 10:10 pm
omgexchangemod) wrote in ohmygirlexchange2016-12-24 10:10 pm
Entry tags:
[jiho/jine] with you, our world (for @sokeum)
Title: with you, our world (for @sokeum)
Characters/Pairings: Jine, Jiho
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Word-Count: 3022
Summary: Jiho has a week to find her footing. Prompt was for pre-debut Jine and Jiho friendship.
Author Notes: i was this close to naming the fic "oh_my_girl!_(intro).mp3"
The outside view of WM Entertainment is not glamourous.
Jiho checks her printed map again, crinkled and smoothed out over her lap. She assures her dad they've got the right place, and he parks their old sedan in front of the dry cleaner's occupying the ground floor beneath WM headquarters. Tucked under Jiho's map is a printed copy of an email describing a side door that leads to the top two floors belonging to WM.
The two of them take in the dull brick exterior and windows lined with water damage with quiet scrutiny. Not that Jiho was expecting the same kind of sleekness found in Gangnam high-rises; everything starts somewhere. Even idol agencies.
"Should I let you stay here?" Jiho's used to hearing her dad express concern as humour, but there’s usually not as much wobble in his voice.
“My orientation's only a week," Jiho reminds him. She gives his shirt a little tug to bring his attention back to her. He tears his eyes off the building and offers his weak attempt at a smile.
It's not like Jiho hasn't done her research. It's not like she didn't run her mouth on their hour drive from Okcheon talking about the relative success of their new boy group, either. But facts weren't tangible; neither decent sales nor news that Chinese fans already went so far as to purchase a star to name after B1A4 seemed as big and real as the old building in front of them.
Her dad rests a heavy hand on Jiho's shoulder while she's unbuckling her seatbelt. "You're a charming girl," he says. "If you ever get the chance to audition somewhere else, go for it.”
Jiho clenches her jaw to stop the arguments bubbling in her throat. She wants to defend the agency that's accepted her, taken a chance on her as she has in them. It's not a debate worth engaging; she knows adults don't tend to believe in taking chances.
(but she does)
♫
Jiho doesn't understand most of what's discussed in the CEO's office. She takes frequent glances at her dad and watches his expression; the change in the furrow of his brow and tightness of his shoulders are her translation for terms and contracts they discuss. Whatever CEO Won Min says, it leaves her dad in better spirits than when they entered.
They show her to a small dorm room where she drops her bag on a bottom bunk. The top bunk is empty, though the sheets are clearly unmade. The staff member who takes her there makes a passing comment about another trainee before leaving her there so they can take care of something-or-other.
WM seems understaffed; Jiho gets the impression she’s only encouraged to look around the headquarters on her own because there’s no one available to show her around.
Jiho is curious by nature but there's still only two floors for her to explore. Not wanting to get in trouble on her first day, she’s stuck standing outside her dorm, over-analyzing details in polaroids taped to the hallway walls. A few of them that evoke memories of things she's seen with her family in Seoul; Jiho ends up too absorbed in her thoughts to notice she's being introduced to someone.
"-- this is Kim Jiho," is about all she catches.
Jiho bows in surprise. Standing with the staff member who showed her to her dorm is the only other female trainee, who returns her bow. She's a couple years older than Jiho, with straight across bangs like hers.
The staff places a hand on each of their backs and nudges them towards each other. "Please get to know each other well," they say. An alarm goes off on their phone and they apologize, leaving them abruptly with no suggestions of how these two strangers were supposed to bond with each other.
Jiho makes the mistake of waiting for her new senior to take her somewhere. Or say something. Or do anything other than puff up one of her cheeks and study the polaroids. Jiho eyelids flicker; it's not how she was expecting someone older to behave.
Maybe she doesn’t want to spend time with her. Maybe she’s testing her. Jiho exhales, so that some of her paranoia can dissipate out into the ozone layer. Maybe she's just shy.
Jiho slams a finger down on a random polaroid. It's Namsan tower.
"Hyerim, have you been here?" Jiho asks.
She swings her head to look at Jiho and Jiho wilts instantly. They only met three minutes ago but everything about her aura tells Jiho that the speed of her reaction was uncharacteristic.
"It's Hyejin."
She sounds surprised rather than annoyed. That doesn't prevent Jiho from fumbling through a long stream of apologies, even after Hyejin awkwardly asks her to stop.
♫
A member of the PR team corners them in their dorm the next morning to sneak money into their pockets, as long as they promise to visit her favourite nearby cafe for lunch.
Hyejin's been at WM longer, so Jiho relies on her to lead the way. A few blocks later none of the signs start to match the road names in the agent's directions. Jiho begins to suspect that Hyejin didn't explore much, or she simply had no gift for direction.
"Do you smell that?" Hyejin grabs her hand, pulling forward towards a familiar smell Jiho began to notice a block ago.
"Did you lead us here on purpose?" Jiho asks once they come to a stop in front of a fried chicken restaurant.
"No, but-" Hyejin places her fingertips on the restaurant's tinted windows and squints inside "-we don't have this chain back home and I've always wanted to try them out.'
Jiho is silently grateful that a shared enthusiasm for fried chicken gives them something to talk about. Learning that it's also Hyejn's favourite food excites her; other than learning that her name is not Hyerim, it's the first real thing Jiho's learned about her, from her.
The conversation tapers off once they place their order. Jiho is terribly aware of the growing length of each pause, widening until they're eclipsed in familiar silence.
Jiho frowns at Hyejin, who stares out the window with her chin tucked comfortably into the palm of her hand. Jiho's inability to make conversation alarms her. She should be apologizing for each lapse in conversation; she's supposed to be outgoing.
There are ideas, memories that have come in waves since Jiho tried falling asleep last night. She thinks of her place amongst her friends, her volume and nerve. The sound of Hyejin sighing breaks the surface of her thoughts like a pebble and presents a new view of the memories underneath; of course she could dance silly in front of her whole class, and constantly be scolded by the teacher for talking to new students in class. Until she met Hyejin, Jiho always stood among people she's known since primary school. Jiho was never outgoing, she was merely comfortable.
Between her frustration and her craving for chicken, she bursts.
"I'm sorry! I'm so awkward!"
"What?" Hyejin blinks like she's woken from a nap.
"I've been really boring," Jiho rambles, "I'm sorry. I can't think of anything to say."
"You don't have to. We don't really know each other yet," Hyejin says, like it's obvious. She takes the ketchup bottle Jiho holds on to like a stressball, and put it pack beside the cutlery. "I don't mind silence," she adds.
"I do."
Hyejin furrows her eyebrows; it looks funny because it's the first time Jiho's seen her appear so concentrated.
"Okay," she says, after more unbearable silence.
Hyejin is pointing things out through the window to discuss with Jiho when their food arrives.
♫
Jiho’s only cried in public once before. She was twelve and it was at the library. The weight of her past week’s bad luck pressed down on her until she buried her head into her desk and tried to keep her sobs muffled.
A new song comes on shuffle, and the bouncy opening hook caught her off guard. The lyrics weren't meaningful, but the melody was just bright and vibrant enough for her to hold on to. Breathing steadily by the song’s end, Jiho had something of an epiphany then: how wonderful it would be, to be part of something that had the magic to cheer people up like that.
WM Entertainment doesn't have a spare desk tucked away in a corner for Jiho to sob into, so she locks herself in the top-floor bathroom. She collapses on the toilet, legs weak from the afternoon's dancing. It was a rough way to learn that a bad dancer only gets worse with a stomach full of a fried chicken.
It would have been nice if someone told her that, but it also would have been nice if someone told her that being accepted into an idol agency didn't mean you were good.
Nasally. No sense of pitch. Sloppy enunciation. She wasn't expecting to be perfect, but she wasn't expecting to be this bad either. Their choreographer wasn't much kinder.
Her surprise is part of why she can't pack up their criticisms and put them away for future consideration. Their words are stuck on replay, repeating and hounding her, knocking her off her foundation for wanting to do all this. It's a ridiculous reason to be an idol, she finally admits.
Someone was going to try coming in eventually, which is a fact that Jiho tries purposely to ignore. She curses her chances when the voice that accompanies a series of knocks is the most distinctive one in the company.
"Is someone in here?" It's a low voice, belonging to B1A4's rapper. She hasn't even been formally introduced to them yet, and now history will remember that her first conversation with any of them happened while she was sitting on a toilet.
"Yes." Jiho is self-conscious about the raw edge to her voice, it's more than enough of a hint that she's been crying.
A muffled conversation happens on the other side of the door. Jiho seriously considers flushing herself down the toilet.
"I'm going to be awhile," Jiho yells. She really wishes someone else had knocked. Nearly anyone else, she wouldn't have recognized their voice, and she wouldn't have to remember lying to them about having diarrhea next time they make eye-contact.
". . .Alright."
She hears a few footsteps leave. Jiho's a bit shaken, and while it was a nice break from the crying, she starts to feel worse again when she thinks how selfish she's being by holding one of the few bathrooms hostage like this.
Her thoughts only have a moment to spiral because there's another knock at the door. Jiho would have screamed if she wasn't trying so hard to stay inconspicuous.
"Jiho?"
It's Hyejin.
"Jiho, can you let me in?"
It takes some effort for Jiho to summon the will to get off the toilet, but she wasn't going to leave Hyejin waiting for her on the other side of the door.
Jiho must look like crap, because Hyejin's face is brushed with worry when she opens the door. Hyejin steps inside and closes the door gently behind them.
Carefully, she wraps her arms around Jiho for a hug. She asks what's wrong, to which Jiho grumbles something incomprehensible and pathetic sounding. Jiho finds she doesn't mind the silence between them so much, right now.
"My first sessions were hard too," Hyejin says, patting the back of Jiho's head. "If it makes you feel any better I think I did worse than you did today, even after an extra week of practice."
Hyejin's words didn't make Jiho feel any better, but her effort did.
"Won Min talked to me after my first few days, " Hyejin starts. This might be the most Jiho's heard Hyejin say in one go. "I wish someone said this to me earlier, but a group needs more than legendary talent to work, you know."
Hyejin pulls away, just enough to look at Jiho. She tucks a strand of her hair, tear-glued to her cheek, behind her ear.
"I think we're kind of lucky," Hyejin confesses. "It's gonna be years until they debut their first girl group, so we have lots of time to improve."
Hyejin's probably right, and Jiho's sure her words will make more sense later. Ideas are hard to process in the fuzziness of Jiho's post-crying brain.
"God, I'm so puffy," Jiho says, catching her reflection in the mirror. "My face looks like a giant boiled egg."
Hyejin scowls. "I hope you don't mean that badly," she scolds. "Eggs are delicious."
Jiho bursts out laughing at Hyejin's earnest defense of eggs, and squeezes her arms tightly around her waist.
♫
Jiho takes care of directions when they take their day trip to Myeongdong. She now knows that Hyejin can't help but walk on autopilot; Hyejin is always surprised to see where she ends up. It's fun to follow her sometimes, but not when they have to be back at WM by three.
The shopping district is as busy Jiho remembers it, and the mix of crowd and muggy summer heat quickly drains their energy. Hyejin plops down on a bench, and a few facemask samples slip out of her unzipped purse. She blows a raspberry at the crowd to mark her defeat.
Jiho crouches in front of Hyejin, careful not to get the dust off the cobblestone on her white shorts.
"Get up! It can’t end this way!" Jiho shakes Hyejin by her shoulders, and Hyejin flops back and forth like she forgot her spine at the dorm.
"It must end this way," Hyejin says, bleakly.
"You said you'd take me to a noraebang," Jiho whines.
Hyejin slips out of her grasp and lies down on the bench. "Find one," Hyejin mumbles. "Ask someone if there's one around."
Jiho doesn't want to halt someone in the crowd, not when everyone looks determined to get somewhere. There is a bus stop close-by, though. Jiho panics when she notices that the only person waiting is a university student. He's dressed stylishly, while she's been trying to hide a soup stain on her shirt with her messenger bag strap for the past hour.
Jiho looks back down at Hyejin, whose eyes are closed. She's really trying to take a nap in the middle of a public place like this. Her shamelessness inspires Jiho to straighten her back and approach the bus stop.
"Excuse me," Jiho says, speaking loudly to steady her nerves. "Do you know where--"
"What?" He tugs an earbud out of his ear. The bus drives by and he waves her off, running to hop on. Jiho blows anxious air out of her lungs. That was officially a bust.
She's surprised that Hyejin greets her when she returns, despite her closed eyes. Come to think of it, Hyejin having extrasensory perception wouldn't be too surprising.
"Don’t ask a boy next time,’ Hyejin says. "They’re clueless."
"Oh really?" Jiho drags Hyejin's feet off the bench, so there's room for her to sit. Hyejin's short and doesn't take up much room on the bench anyways. "Even more clueless than eonnie?”
“Eonnie’s tired, don’t speak to her that way.”
Jiho crosses her legs and grimaces at the amount of sweat that's accumulated behind her knee caps. Even if she was sick of singing after the past few days, it would be hard to deny the appeal of a dark and air-conditioned noaebang in this heat. She'll drag a napping Hyejin to one if she has to, but she also resigns to rest for a few minutes first.
The Holika Holika behind them plays a song that takes her back to last night; in an hour of practice, the clumsy duo managed to memorize the entire Roly-Poly routine. Maybe not flawlessly, but enough to get an applause from the choreographer. Jiho beams at the memory, and thinks how she'd like to do something even more astonishing.
“Let’s choreograph a dance!"
Hyejin blinks out of her nap slowly, and Jiho repeats herself when it looks like Hyejin's brain's booted back up.
"We can choreograph a dance, and present it to everyone on our last day," Jiho says. "We can find a song at the noraebang and choreograph it there."
"Oh." Hyejin's smile is as slow and genuine as the rest of her. "I'd love that."
♫
Jiho lays in her bunk, using her luggage as a headrest. It won't zip close because she threw in balls of clothes instead of folding things properly. She leaves tomorrow morning, and a few staff members have already nagged her to pack early. Jiho won't be surprised if she doesn't get to it until tomorrow morning.
Hyejin is in the bunk above her, reading a comic. The mattress creaks occasionally as she searches for that elusive position optimizing comfort and being able to read.
Jiho's phone vibrates, sound muffled against cotton. She realizes it was tossed into her luggage with her clothes. Half of the contents are tossed on the floor by the time she digs her phone out.
hey are you still in seoul???
Jiho's friend is enjoying the last of their summer break with relatives in Jeju, so she knows she's not asking to hang out.
Ya why? Jiho writes back.
On twitter it says CUBE is having auditions today if u wanna go
um maybe, Jiho types. Her thumb hovers over the send button. Distant laughter from the dance studio is joined by Hyejin snorting loudly, calling Jiho over to come read something. The hum of the building's old furnaces reverberates through their walls, a sound that kept her up her first night here.
Jiho deletes her message and drops her phone on the mattress.
“Jihooo,” Hyejin whines. “I said come look at this.”
“Toss it down here,” Jiho says, raising her hand towards the top bunk. “I’m too comfy to move.”
Characters/Pairings: Jine, Jiho
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Word-Count: 3022
Summary: Jiho has a week to find her footing. Prompt was for pre-debut Jine and Jiho friendship.
Author Notes: i was this close to naming the fic "oh_my_girl!_(intro).mp3"
The outside view of WM Entertainment is not glamourous.
Jiho checks her printed map again, crinkled and smoothed out over her lap. She assures her dad they've got the right place, and he parks their old sedan in front of the dry cleaner's occupying the ground floor beneath WM headquarters. Tucked under Jiho's map is a printed copy of an email describing a side door that leads to the top two floors belonging to WM.
The two of them take in the dull brick exterior and windows lined with water damage with quiet scrutiny. Not that Jiho was expecting the same kind of sleekness found in Gangnam high-rises; everything starts somewhere. Even idol agencies.
"Should I let you stay here?" Jiho's used to hearing her dad express concern as humour, but there’s usually not as much wobble in his voice.
“My orientation's only a week," Jiho reminds him. She gives his shirt a little tug to bring his attention back to her. He tears his eyes off the building and offers his weak attempt at a smile.
It's not like Jiho hasn't done her research. It's not like she didn't run her mouth on their hour drive from Okcheon talking about the relative success of their new boy group, either. But facts weren't tangible; neither decent sales nor news that Chinese fans already went so far as to purchase a star to name after B1A4 seemed as big and real as the old building in front of them.
Her dad rests a heavy hand on Jiho's shoulder while she's unbuckling her seatbelt. "You're a charming girl," he says. "If you ever get the chance to audition somewhere else, go for it.”
Jiho clenches her jaw to stop the arguments bubbling in her throat. She wants to defend the agency that's accepted her, taken a chance on her as she has in them. It's not a debate worth engaging; she knows adults don't tend to believe in taking chances.
(but she does)
♫
Jiho doesn't understand most of what's discussed in the CEO's office. She takes frequent glances at her dad and watches his expression; the change in the furrow of his brow and tightness of his shoulders are her translation for terms and contracts they discuss. Whatever CEO Won Min says, it leaves her dad in better spirits than when they entered.
They show her to a small dorm room where she drops her bag on a bottom bunk. The top bunk is empty, though the sheets are clearly unmade. The staff member who takes her there makes a passing comment about another trainee before leaving her there so they can take care of something-or-other.
WM seems understaffed; Jiho gets the impression she’s only encouraged to look around the headquarters on her own because there’s no one available to show her around.
Jiho is curious by nature but there's still only two floors for her to explore. Not wanting to get in trouble on her first day, she’s stuck standing outside her dorm, over-analyzing details in polaroids taped to the hallway walls. A few of them that evoke memories of things she's seen with her family in Seoul; Jiho ends up too absorbed in her thoughts to notice she's being introduced to someone.
"-- this is Kim Jiho," is about all she catches.
Jiho bows in surprise. Standing with the staff member who showed her to her dorm is the only other female trainee, who returns her bow. She's a couple years older than Jiho, with straight across bangs like hers.
The staff places a hand on each of their backs and nudges them towards each other. "Please get to know each other well," they say. An alarm goes off on their phone and they apologize, leaving them abruptly with no suggestions of how these two strangers were supposed to bond with each other.
Jiho makes the mistake of waiting for her new senior to take her somewhere. Or say something. Or do anything other than puff up one of her cheeks and study the polaroids. Jiho eyelids flicker; it's not how she was expecting someone older to behave.
Maybe she doesn’t want to spend time with her. Maybe she’s testing her. Jiho exhales, so that some of her paranoia can dissipate out into the ozone layer. Maybe she's just shy.
Jiho slams a finger down on a random polaroid. It's Namsan tower.
"Hyerim, have you been here?" Jiho asks.
She swings her head to look at Jiho and Jiho wilts instantly. They only met three minutes ago but everything about her aura tells Jiho that the speed of her reaction was uncharacteristic.
"It's Hyejin."
She sounds surprised rather than annoyed. That doesn't prevent Jiho from fumbling through a long stream of apologies, even after Hyejin awkwardly asks her to stop.
♫
A member of the PR team corners them in their dorm the next morning to sneak money into their pockets, as long as they promise to visit her favourite nearby cafe for lunch.
Hyejin's been at WM longer, so Jiho relies on her to lead the way. A few blocks later none of the signs start to match the road names in the agent's directions. Jiho begins to suspect that Hyejin didn't explore much, or she simply had no gift for direction.
"Do you smell that?" Hyejin grabs her hand, pulling forward towards a familiar smell Jiho began to notice a block ago.
"Did you lead us here on purpose?" Jiho asks once they come to a stop in front of a fried chicken restaurant.
"No, but-" Hyejin places her fingertips on the restaurant's tinted windows and squints inside "-we don't have this chain back home and I've always wanted to try them out.'
Jiho is silently grateful that a shared enthusiasm for fried chicken gives them something to talk about. Learning that it's also Hyejn's favourite food excites her; other than learning that her name is not Hyerim, it's the first real thing Jiho's learned about her, from her.
The conversation tapers off once they place their order. Jiho is terribly aware of the growing length of each pause, widening until they're eclipsed in familiar silence.
Jiho frowns at Hyejin, who stares out the window with her chin tucked comfortably into the palm of her hand. Jiho's inability to make conversation alarms her. She should be apologizing for each lapse in conversation; she's supposed to be outgoing.
There are ideas, memories that have come in waves since Jiho tried falling asleep last night. She thinks of her place amongst her friends, her volume and nerve. The sound of Hyejin sighing breaks the surface of her thoughts like a pebble and presents a new view of the memories underneath; of course she could dance silly in front of her whole class, and constantly be scolded by the teacher for talking to new students in class. Until she met Hyejin, Jiho always stood among people she's known since primary school. Jiho was never outgoing, she was merely comfortable.
Between her frustration and her craving for chicken, she bursts.
"I'm sorry! I'm so awkward!"
"What?" Hyejin blinks like she's woken from a nap.
"I've been really boring," Jiho rambles, "I'm sorry. I can't think of anything to say."
"You don't have to. We don't really know each other yet," Hyejin says, like it's obvious. She takes the ketchup bottle Jiho holds on to like a stressball, and put it pack beside the cutlery. "I don't mind silence," she adds.
"I do."
Hyejin furrows her eyebrows; it looks funny because it's the first time Jiho's seen her appear so concentrated.
"Okay," she says, after more unbearable silence.
Hyejin is pointing things out through the window to discuss with Jiho when their food arrives.
♫
Jiho’s only cried in public once before. She was twelve and it was at the library. The weight of her past week’s bad luck pressed down on her until she buried her head into her desk and tried to keep her sobs muffled.
A new song comes on shuffle, and the bouncy opening hook caught her off guard. The lyrics weren't meaningful, but the melody was just bright and vibrant enough for her to hold on to. Breathing steadily by the song’s end, Jiho had something of an epiphany then: how wonderful it would be, to be part of something that had the magic to cheer people up like that.
WM Entertainment doesn't have a spare desk tucked away in a corner for Jiho to sob into, so she locks herself in the top-floor bathroom. She collapses on the toilet, legs weak from the afternoon's dancing. It was a rough way to learn that a bad dancer only gets worse with a stomach full of a fried chicken.
It would have been nice if someone told her that, but it also would have been nice if someone told her that being accepted into an idol agency didn't mean you were good.
Nasally. No sense of pitch. Sloppy enunciation. She wasn't expecting to be perfect, but she wasn't expecting to be this bad either. Their choreographer wasn't much kinder.
Her surprise is part of why she can't pack up their criticisms and put them away for future consideration. Their words are stuck on replay, repeating and hounding her, knocking her off her foundation for wanting to do all this. It's a ridiculous reason to be an idol, she finally admits.
Someone was going to try coming in eventually, which is a fact that Jiho tries purposely to ignore. She curses her chances when the voice that accompanies a series of knocks is the most distinctive one in the company.
"Is someone in here?" It's a low voice, belonging to B1A4's rapper. She hasn't even been formally introduced to them yet, and now history will remember that her first conversation with any of them happened while she was sitting on a toilet.
"Yes." Jiho is self-conscious about the raw edge to her voice, it's more than enough of a hint that she's been crying.
A muffled conversation happens on the other side of the door. Jiho seriously considers flushing herself down the toilet.
"I'm going to be awhile," Jiho yells. She really wishes someone else had knocked. Nearly anyone else, she wouldn't have recognized their voice, and she wouldn't have to remember lying to them about having diarrhea next time they make eye-contact.
". . .Alright."
She hears a few footsteps leave. Jiho's a bit shaken, and while it was a nice break from the crying, she starts to feel worse again when she thinks how selfish she's being by holding one of the few bathrooms hostage like this.
Her thoughts only have a moment to spiral because there's another knock at the door. Jiho would have screamed if she wasn't trying so hard to stay inconspicuous.
"Jiho?"
It's Hyejin.
"Jiho, can you let me in?"
It takes some effort for Jiho to summon the will to get off the toilet, but she wasn't going to leave Hyejin waiting for her on the other side of the door.
Jiho must look like crap, because Hyejin's face is brushed with worry when she opens the door. Hyejin steps inside and closes the door gently behind them.
Carefully, she wraps her arms around Jiho for a hug. She asks what's wrong, to which Jiho grumbles something incomprehensible and pathetic sounding. Jiho finds she doesn't mind the silence between them so much, right now.
"My first sessions were hard too," Hyejin says, patting the back of Jiho's head. "If it makes you feel any better I think I did worse than you did today, even after an extra week of practice."
Hyejin's words didn't make Jiho feel any better, but her effort did.
"Won Min talked to me after my first few days, " Hyejin starts. This might be the most Jiho's heard Hyejin say in one go. "I wish someone said this to me earlier, but a group needs more than legendary talent to work, you know."
Hyejin pulls away, just enough to look at Jiho. She tucks a strand of her hair, tear-glued to her cheek, behind her ear.
"I think we're kind of lucky," Hyejin confesses. "It's gonna be years until they debut their first girl group, so we have lots of time to improve."
Hyejin's probably right, and Jiho's sure her words will make more sense later. Ideas are hard to process in the fuzziness of Jiho's post-crying brain.
"God, I'm so puffy," Jiho says, catching her reflection in the mirror. "My face looks like a giant boiled egg."
Hyejin scowls. "I hope you don't mean that badly," she scolds. "Eggs are delicious."
Jiho bursts out laughing at Hyejin's earnest defense of eggs, and squeezes her arms tightly around her waist.
♫
Jiho takes care of directions when they take their day trip to Myeongdong. She now knows that Hyejin can't help but walk on autopilot; Hyejin is always surprised to see where she ends up. It's fun to follow her sometimes, but not when they have to be back at WM by three.
The shopping district is as busy Jiho remembers it, and the mix of crowd and muggy summer heat quickly drains their energy. Hyejin plops down on a bench, and a few facemask samples slip out of her unzipped purse. She blows a raspberry at the crowd to mark her defeat.
Jiho crouches in front of Hyejin, careful not to get the dust off the cobblestone on her white shorts.
"Get up! It can’t end this way!" Jiho shakes Hyejin by her shoulders, and Hyejin flops back and forth like she forgot her spine at the dorm.
"It must end this way," Hyejin says, bleakly.
"You said you'd take me to a noraebang," Jiho whines.
Hyejin slips out of her grasp and lies down on the bench. "Find one," Hyejin mumbles. "Ask someone if there's one around."
Jiho doesn't want to halt someone in the crowd, not when everyone looks determined to get somewhere. There is a bus stop close-by, though. Jiho panics when she notices that the only person waiting is a university student. He's dressed stylishly, while she's been trying to hide a soup stain on her shirt with her messenger bag strap for the past hour.
Jiho looks back down at Hyejin, whose eyes are closed. She's really trying to take a nap in the middle of a public place like this. Her shamelessness inspires Jiho to straighten her back and approach the bus stop.
"Excuse me," Jiho says, speaking loudly to steady her nerves. "Do you know where--"
"What?" He tugs an earbud out of his ear. The bus drives by and he waves her off, running to hop on. Jiho blows anxious air out of her lungs. That was officially a bust.
She's surprised that Hyejin greets her when she returns, despite her closed eyes. Come to think of it, Hyejin having extrasensory perception wouldn't be too surprising.
"Don’t ask a boy next time,’ Hyejin says. "They’re clueless."
"Oh really?" Jiho drags Hyejin's feet off the bench, so there's room for her to sit. Hyejin's short and doesn't take up much room on the bench anyways. "Even more clueless than eonnie?”
“Eonnie’s tired, don’t speak to her that way.”
Jiho crosses her legs and grimaces at the amount of sweat that's accumulated behind her knee caps. Even if she was sick of singing after the past few days, it would be hard to deny the appeal of a dark and air-conditioned noaebang in this heat. She'll drag a napping Hyejin to one if she has to, but she also resigns to rest for a few minutes first.
The Holika Holika behind them plays a song that takes her back to last night; in an hour of practice, the clumsy duo managed to memorize the entire Roly-Poly routine. Maybe not flawlessly, but enough to get an applause from the choreographer. Jiho beams at the memory, and thinks how she'd like to do something even more astonishing.
“Let’s choreograph a dance!"
Hyejin blinks out of her nap slowly, and Jiho repeats herself when it looks like Hyejin's brain's booted back up.
"We can choreograph a dance, and present it to everyone on our last day," Jiho says. "We can find a song at the noraebang and choreograph it there."
"Oh." Hyejin's smile is as slow and genuine as the rest of her. "I'd love that."
♫
Jiho lays in her bunk, using her luggage as a headrest. It won't zip close because she threw in balls of clothes instead of folding things properly. She leaves tomorrow morning, and a few staff members have already nagged her to pack early. Jiho won't be surprised if she doesn't get to it until tomorrow morning.
Hyejin is in the bunk above her, reading a comic. The mattress creaks occasionally as she searches for that elusive position optimizing comfort and being able to read.
Jiho's phone vibrates, sound muffled against cotton. She realizes it was tossed into her luggage with her clothes. Half of the contents are tossed on the floor by the time she digs her phone out.
hey are you still in seoul???
Jiho's friend is enjoying the last of their summer break with relatives in Jeju, so she knows she's not asking to hang out.
Ya why? Jiho writes back.
On twitter it says CUBE is having auditions today if u wanna go
um maybe, Jiho types. Her thumb hovers over the send button. Distant laughter from the dance studio is joined by Hyejin snorting loudly, calling Jiho over to come read something. The hum of the building's old furnaces reverberates through their walls, a sound that kept her up her first night here.
Jiho deletes her message and drops her phone on the mattress.
“Jihooo,” Hyejin whines. “I said come look at this.”
“Toss it down here,” Jiho says, raising her hand towards the top bunk. “I’m too comfy to move.”
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(Anonymous) 2016-12-24 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)instant favorite..
i really really love predebut fic and jinho is definitely underexplored and also, i love you. your writing is so incredible and i've gotta come back and reread this many times again.. the headcanons here... what i live for... i only have good things to say and no way to express them
-@lovebackthen
weew
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(Anonymous) 2016-12-27 04:15 am (UTC)(link)no subject
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(Anonymous) 2016-12-28 10:48 pm (UTC)(link)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqgFBQJycYU