almost something.
{ @fmdhanli! }
setting: sometime in 2015.
a dreamer beneath the stars on an empty rooftop was cliche. two dreamers beneath the stars was even more so. but hyunmi relished alone time with hanli; wherever it was, cliche or not, it was sacred. on that particular night, the breeze was colder than expected. late spring afternoons waved adieu in marigold sunsets, and evenings said gutentag in slate skies clear enough to stargaze. there were no clouds, the atmosphere having wept a few twilights ago. but the wind danced by in silky swirls ( like a rhythmic gymnast with a ribbon as her apparatus ), an alerting cold front ushering hyunmi to cuddle hanli tighter, ballet-crafted arms going around the younger’s waist as they sat, weights of their backs flushed on the diamond-wired fence overlooking the lively city after an exhausting day.
“can you believe we’ll be the biggest girl group someday?” hyunmi’s voice broke the comfort, the serenity, the quietude. she was never a fan of silence, finding them awkward, but with hanli, silence was peace; they spoke in lingering touches and gentle breathing, subtle and all-knowing glances, secretive smiles reserved for the other. their language was their own, and nobody else. her cheek rested on hanli’s shoulder, finding comfort, finding completion as she stared at her stretched legs, shorter than her counterpart’s. the obvious difference was adorable ( we were around the same height when we met, too ).
“and you’ll be the newest IT girl. bye-bye, bae suzy.” there was cheery laughter brimming with endless possibilities and similar privy conversations when it was just them, sharing wishes and promising illusions. it never grew old, bonding with hanli, speaking about everything ( bits of their childhood, pieces of their past ) and nothing at all ( superhero movies and bucky barnes deserving the world ). with hanli, hyunmi could talk for ages and could offer her ears and listen for twice as much.
the night grew colder, and their hug grew taut. no room for space, no room to be apart. hyunmi couldn’t see the future without hanli by her side, without the girl who waltzed into her life, beautiful like cherry-blossoms but far more everlasting – timeless. they were going to debut together, and they were going to take korea by storm. hyunmi knew they would because a friendship as magnificent as theirs could only go down in history ( or crash and burn in the process ).
happiness still remained a foreign concept to hanli; it was as new to her as the korean syllables on her tongue, as unfamiliar as the taste of kimchi and ddukbokki and as uncertain as her future in a whole new country. but she knew that there was one thing for sure. . . chae hyunmi made her happy. even sitting in silence, underneath the cold starless sky, she was happy. she knew it from the way her skin bubbled with warmth upon feeling hyunmi’s touch on her waist, the way her heart leapt in her chest, the way her lips couldn’t help but curl up into a smile, the way she wanted to capture this fleeting moment and replay it again and again in the back of her mind, to memorize it like the back of her hand.
she hadn’t felt anything like this before.
back in taiwan, friendship had always remained an imaginary concept, this faraway fantasy that never took shape in reality. but now, looking at hyunmi and her laughter and remembering all the days they’d spent attempting to reach the high note together, holding each other’s hands during another gruelling and intense trainee evaluation, watching as hanli outgrew the older, hanli realized that dreams could come true, even when awake. she reached for hyumi’s hand, taking it into hers and intertwining their fingers, smiling dreamily as she painted hyunmi’s words into images - loud cheers for them on stage, hyunmi basking in the glory of the spotlight with her dancing, winning accolades and awards and the fame and the fortune with her best friend giving her that beautiful bright smile that could rival the lights of seoul on a stage with confetti and fireworks and flashes from cameras.
“all of korea will know our name,” hanli added, letting out a soft sigh. “you’ll be the best dancer anyone has ever seen. they’ll all fall in love with you.” (but not as much as i love you, hanli wanted to add.) in fact, there were a lot of things that hanli wanted to tell hyunmi - the words burning at her throat, dying to escape.
i can’t imagine my life without you.
please don’t ever leave me.
i’ve never met anyone like you.
but there was three words, in particular that had been lying restlessly on the tip of the girl’s lips for two full years, only to be stopped by her fear. she glanced at hyunmi, catching the older girl’s eyes in process, hoping that she’d be able to understand what hanli would never dare say aloud.
i love you.









