agh

@geumum

“what do you mean, you can’t?”

she’s either hard of hearing or in denial. he repeats himself for the fourth time. “i don’t know how to climb a tree, ma’am.”

with one indignant hand on her hip, she spits, “isn’t this part of your job?”

“i’m sure you’re thinking of something else, ma’am,” like a coconut harvester, or firefighter. he frowns, thinking back to grey-tinged days when he’d scaled fence after fence like an olympic hurdler. back then, it might have translated. he might have dared to try. today, his joints are achey, he’s run out of cold-hot patches, and he’d rather just sit this one out. “anyone here who can help?”

a face emerges from the small crowd of onlookers. sung already knows where this is going.

hero complex? nah. you can imagine the joints on this officer being a little loose with every step he takes—there’s no way in hell someone of his age nor stature would pass this up otherwise. he just seems tired. in the meantime, everything else about this is straight out of a show/comic/movie elijah’s never properly sought through, a fever dream when he finds himself in front of the tree faster than the rest of them can make another comment just as cliche, if not fitting.

elijah raises his hand, meek. wordlessly, increasingly at a loss, he clears his throat and nods up at the cat in one of the higher branches. god damn, whose feet dragged him here? he refuses to look down, the cat doing a lot more in that regard though not with much enthusiasm.

me too, buddy. me too. 

“you did?” to put this into perspective, roo’s seen ‘lijah more often than she’s seen her own roommate. then again, she’s hardly home, and for good reason– no food. “who was it? who was she? was it a she?” this would be a touching moment if he wasn’t so intent on avoiding her as always. no biggie. twisting fingers into the back of his shirt, she slows her steps and takes a glance at her phone. thirty minutes should do it. just because she’s off work doesn’t mean she’s got all the time on her hands.

“so it was a girl?!” oh my god, she’s gonna tear up. is this what parents feel like? it’s like she’s a mama bird, and ‘lijah’s leaving the metaphorical nest. (hopefully he knows how to fly.) “maybe don’t say that last part out loud again.” there’s a bounce in her step. hard to say who’s more excited by the news right now. “i can’t believe you waited this long to tell me! i wanna know everything, even the lame-ass details.”

“then we’d both be left in the dark, unless,” she turns to look at him with a grin. “you speak german but just haven’t told me about it.” then back to facing the front, where something pops up. “pretty sure there was a movie about that… the secret life of pets?” unsure, despite having watched it a few times already. but memories are hazy in this state ( re: red-cheeked, words with a mild slur, no balance whatsoever ) so you can’t blame her. she takes a moment to think of something, brows furrowed and lips pursed. “always wanted to learn the violin.” or was it the piano? she can’t remember. same thing, whatever. “just any musical instrument would be cool — or maybe learn german along with gus.” she laughs. “i dunno.”

there’s a grin in return. sated and warm. and then a burp. loud and obnoxious. “then i guess you don’t know.” his stomach’s starting to feel funny, but not because he wants to puke. it’s just really kicking in now. again, whatever this is. “ignorance is—” another burp, “—blitz.”

no, i don’t speak german. don’t even know what that is.? como ceviche... ‘your hair is really pretty’ in said language?

w/ @geumum

if there’s anything yanjie’s learnt in his time in seoul, it’s the number one rule of all korean society (if you don’t want to be seen as a loser or something along those lines): crowded and alone do not go together. if you eat alone in a crowded place, then it’s even more taboo and thou shalt go to hell for that, yadda yadda. 

so when he spots an empty seat in the stuffed room across a boy who looks fairly approachable, he sees an opportunity — #1: to make friends, and #2: not look like outcasts together. kill two birds with one stone and all that, right?

confidence makes up for uncertainty, as it always does. yanjie’s got absolutely nothing to lose, so stupid courage looks good on him (or so he’s been told). there’s no hesitance as he weaves his way amongst the people and stands right before the other male, clutching his drink and laptop close to his chest. yanjie taps the table once, twice, to get his attention, proffering his brightest smile, and says (in his obviously top-notch korean):

“hi! can i sit on you?” 

one, two, ten. one to ten. he counts from that to this with his elbows on the edge of the table, leg anxiously shaking in place up and down underneath. his nose bridge is pinched in between his index finger and his thumb, eyes droopy as they skim the thesis material for the thousandth time in that sitting alone, retaining it for the fifth. if he could afford to be amused right now, never did he think it would be over what he thinks he’s hearing. the coffee’s okay here, tea just as promising. it’s hard to figure what he’s really here for.

or, well. was.

what? he doesn’t say.

elijah takes a deep breath before he unglues his eyes away from his screen, giving the stranger a once-over as he stretches his arms over his head. what, he doesn’t think, leaning back into his chair, slumping a little. his legs had been whatever up until here, spreading faster than he can argue, an equally curious gaze meeting the other’s as he pats the space in between on his seat.

i mean? he’s not even much of a tinder guy...

“i’m really skinny.” the obvious. “and tired.” god, you don’t have to talk. “but i’ve heard worse.” elijah yawns, leaning in real quick to scroll down and make sure he’s got as much pages left of the document as he’d counted prior. “be my guest.” 

it’s both a blessing and a curse that goeun often doesn’t remember much once she’s had one too many drinks — her limit being two. it’s tragic. but hey, it saves money. save for her usual afternoon cereal shopping escapades ( which she only really remembers because it’s become a routine ), everything else tends to just disappear into thin air. for better or for worse, she supposes.

for better, because she won’t have to deal with the utter embarrassment that would usually hit her if she’s remained sober. for worse, because elijah might remember her request and therefore, she’d have to never interact with him ever again. keyword: might. she takes a break from humming as he cards through her hair when gusgus is brought up. “of course! i miss him already. my little baby.” the star of the show, really. “i didn’t even start counting after the first hello.” five thousand sounds about right, not that she’s in any position to make accurate guesses at the moment. she laughs when he burps then hiccups, not realising that she’s beginning to lean a little too far to the left. ten thousand if she doesn’t pass out by then. “he probably wanted to leave you a message but it’s not like he can speak korean, y’know?” and the nonsense begins. “maybe he speaks english.”

“pfft, wouldn’t be too convenient for you if he did.” he can see there’s a tilt progressing to the side, but elijah’s only ready to catch her assuming he’s not hammered enough to act on it. undoubtedly ready otherwise if this just weren’t a thing for them both right now. 

wrow. this side of my brain: unlocked. gettin’ a lil silly here, eh... hehehe. 

💬elijah geum | 21:02 | judging from the caps and word of mouth 💬elijah geum | 21:02 | think i’m gonna end up liking him lol 💬elijah geum | 21:02 | will update you after ep 1

💬elijah geum | 21:26 | 5 min in and yea 💬elijah geum | 21:26 | reigen sama!!!!

9:27 [ kkt: not lincoln ] 💬 fuck u!!!!! 9:27 [ kkt: not lincoln ] 💬 wrong answer

She’s My Collar playing from another room

hwan raises an eyebrow, too focused on the screen to turn to look at elijah. “yeah, i guess?” he has no idea why anyone would watch elijah whisper into a mic and tap various household objects, but that’s youtube for you. said youtuber is spinning around on a chair while he puts all of his two elective modules on sound engineering to use, sieving through an hour’s worth of audio to clean it up. “i mean, it’s nice to do something without mr nam breathing down my neck.” 

though, he’s basically listening to elijah breathe down the mic; it’s still better when it’s a friend. he knows that’s probably what elijah’s actually asking. but he doesn’t know how to say, yeah, i’ve known you for seven years and it’s more fun spending time with you than not, so he defaults to, “you have good snacks, too.”

he plays the audio of the first minute back again, white noise cut, pause, amplifies a section, softens another, fiddles with the overall clip, play. okay, it sounds a little better, clear and crisp now. “hey, here,” hwan finally turns to him, reaches out and hooks the headphones on for elijah. “sound good?”

finger guns. he doesn’t have to speak to know hwan’s done it once again. like okay, yeah he does, but he knows he doesn’t. the final “thank you” in the clip his friend had just played with is, as elijah would say, delicious. less is never expected, him making it a point in his own headspace to pay hwan with more than just good snacks.

“right?” goeun sets down a little tunnel, covering one half with a thin layer of bedding. gusgus makes a beeline for it and her smile grows a little. “yeah.” after scattering a few seeds over the bedding, she adjusts the water bottle. “hamsters are surprisingly good at escaping that they put that bond guy to shame.” a laugh slips out when gusgus stuffs a sunflower seed in his cheek. yeah, definitely no regret here. “they’re nocturnal, but um, whatever time is cool with you is fine with me.” she lifts her gaze from gusgus to look at her friend. “don’t feel like you have to do this, by the way. like, really.” looking back at gusgus, she gently grazes his fur with her fingertips. “but the kitchen is usually stocked if you do drop by.” 

elijah scrunches his nose, lips upturned at both corners. “don’t worry about it.” his bike’s outside her complex, he remembers, but there’s no sense of urgency in having to collect it and ride it back home. not yet. the afternoon is still young. running a hand through his hair, it falls back into his lap as he continues to watch gusgus being gusgus, the silence a cocoon that does not suffocate. “awkward” doesn’t cover it anymore ⁠— it’s something else and for good cause. or so that’s how wishful thinking works.

he steals one more look at her from the side. double-guessing comes to play with his heart racing within the cage that is his throat. it can. the unrealistic-amount-of-beats-per-minute part.