ON EARTH WE'RE BRIEFLY GORGEOUS.

𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙊𝘿𝙐𝘾𝙄𝙉𝙂... 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝙾𝙳𝙰 𝙻𝙸𝙽

            yun stares down at his nails. there’s dirt wedged deep under his nails, as well as smudges all over his knuckles and fingertips. there are scratches along the back of his hand too, from fighting off a particularly feisty thorn-wielding vine. the sight is not particularly interesting, but yun is trying to appear aloof. like he can’t even bother to raise his head to make eye contact with his guest. he can feel another plant trying to wriggle it’s way up his pant leg where he’s hastily shoved it under the table. he tries to shake it off as subtly as possible. his leg bangs clearly and painfully against the wooden leg. with clear of his throat to mask a pained grunt, yun finally looks up to harin. his eyes are cold, narrowed, calculating. his face feels awkwardly stiff, but he’s rolling with it.

            “look, i think pip would’ve stayed back himself if he actually made a deal with you guys,” yun huffs. his arms cross over his chest, and he nudges the pots on the ground further under the table with his shoe. there’s excited chirping from the foxgloves. yun winces. “this list is ridiculous. we need at least a week of planning to gather these kinds of ingredients for you. i get that you potions kids think you can just stomp around the school and get your way, but it doesn’t work like that here. in the herbology club we work with delicate and living magical creatures. it’s more sensitive than just throwing dried herbs into a boiling cauldron and stirring it around for a few days.” 

and it’s odd because it’s just physical touch, she can feel it, him. but it’s stimulation without the emotion she had come to expect. her head is vacant from any thought that isn’t fuck you daeil. yet, parts of her respond, her arms tug him closer against her chest, tuck him in warm and hot against her ( is it enough ? ) his promises still linger on her skin where his breath had hit, yun’s words still sticking to her forethought, just next to all the ones she wishes she could banish about daeil ( that’s a lie, she loves him, she’s sure of it ) something in her aches, unfair, unkindly reminding her that she knows, she’s fucking fully aware, of what it really feels like. what loving him feels like. did she ever stop? ( in some ways ) is this what it was like before ? ( no…. ) she pulls out of his kiss just enough for the magnetic centimeter, not even that much ; breathing in his breath, all of that carbon dioxide makes her feel a bit drunk. ( he doesn’t taste like daeil did… ) it’s distracting how much he doesn’t taste like daeil. but it’s fine. it’s in the name of a distraction, it’s important ( if she doesn’t do this, how will she exact her revenge ? ) her tongue licks at yun’s lips slow and teasing, fingers winding into his hair, knees brushing along the fabric of his pants while she hikes her leg to draw him closer. so close now… ( when was the last time she was this close to someone ? when had someone touched her, kissed her ? ) she shudders into the kiss, physical response only, her thoughts so stuck on daeil, yet they don’t match up. it’s so patchwork. her feelings, her thoughts, something doesn’t add up. her mind screams daeil but her body knows. it feels different. her ex doesn’t feel like this.

what she feels is yun. it’s distinct, there’s a melody to the way he breaths that matches with her heartbeat even without her calling out to it. she widens the kiss, her body latching onto the notion that if she pretends, it can become what she wants. it can be like him right ? yun can fill that right ? he said he would do it, he could fill the spaces she needed him to. she pushes herself backward, dragging him with her arms, lips locked like a promise as she pushes further onto the table. there’s something desperate about it, her imagination is failing her, true, but she’s trying. ( this whole thing feels so new ) it’s freeing, in some strange way. equally as much as it drives her heart through her ribs. the way it’s so different from what she wants ( thinks she wants ) but still works. she breaks apart again, and when she speaks her lips move against his, words muffled gently by his mouth. “why?” she asks, eyes sealed shut. “why are you helping me?” she can’t help but ask, kisses him again, this one feels nearly too chaste. just one and then she gives him room to speak.

            when she pulls away yun’s heart rockets up into his throat. he doesn’t want it to end, never ever, so why is it over so soon? did he make a mistake? is he not enough? his eyes shoot across the room to him. is it because he’s not paying attention? but the shift in yun’s gaze does not last long. he locks back onto her, eyes wide and earnest. if she doesn’t want to kiss him, they don’t have to. he can just as easily hold her hand and pet her hair and tell her everything’s going to be alright. if she needs a brother, not a lover, well, he’ll just have to accept that. whatever she needs, she’ll have. ah, but now her arms are hooking around him. they’re falling, falling, falling. his arms brace on the hard table and she feels so tiny underneath him. he’s a glinting, iron shield ready to catch eyes and deflect the harsh arrow glares from her. wet and enthusiastic he sinks back into the kiss. one arm keeps his body safely above hers, with just the most electrifying brush of body on body when he moves to lick into her mouth. the other hand pushes her blazer to the side so he can run his fingers along her ribs through the thinner fabric of her shirt. it’s like he’s possessed, entire being consumed with jungmi, jungmi, jungmi, his lips and tongue and teeth worshipping every little detail of her pouting mouth. it’s less devastating when she pulls back again, and his breaths come in loud huffs as he tries to regain his breath. why? she asks. it’s such a foolish question. but jungmi could never be foolish, because she is nothing short of perfection. so yun must be the wrong one, not proving himself enough yet. so he bumps his nose along her cheek, humming contently as she presses another kiss to his mouth. 

            “i’m helping you because i love you noona, unconditionally,” he explains. “i would do anything you asked me to. your happiness is the only thing that matters.” his mouth drags to her jaw, to her neck, his lips shaping around her fluttering pulse. the beat of her heart he adores so much. “ah, noona means everything to me,” he murmurs into the pale column of her throat. 

            the day after and yun wants nothing more to keep his head buried in the dirt for the rest of his life. or, well, more accurately in the safe barrier of his comforter. memories from the night before are hazy, only swirling in bright technicolor, in and out of focus. only bits and pieces of his words and actions pull into focus, and yet what he does remember from the night leaves him whining into his pillow. god, who let him act like that? how powerful could that potion have been, to have him abandoning one of his closest friends to make a spectacle out of himself in front of the entire school? with her sister no less? it makes scorching embarrassment flame across his skin. he can switch schools, right? mahoutokoro should still be accepting students right? but he doesn’t speak any japanese, so maybe he’s better off at the american school. what was it called again? ilvermorny? american schools are a breeze compared to the korean school system anyway. 

            yun knows he’s being dramatic. it’s not like everyone else in the room had been unaffected and silently watching his... performance with jungmi. everyone had been acting a fool, and didn’t have any room to judge yun. but it’s still so out of character for him, so bold and public that he shrivels thinking about it. so maybe he wants to hide out in his room today, but the conversation jiyi wants to have seems sensitive anyway. so he offers his home, puts the kettle on, and let’s taizi settle into the throw blanket between them on the couch. 

the way she feels uncomfortable in her own skin, just a moment, out of context and order, it sends a chill down her spine. a need to look back across the room, to search for the eyes she knows won’t be looking at her. but they could be, right ? his words were so, so soft to hear, silk dusting over the skin of her cheek, thrumming inside of her chest more compelling than the music somehow ( it burns, rages within her ; a need to make him pay ) she looks away from yun ( not him ) her gaze pinpointing until it sticks across the room, a hateful glare ( him. ) steps enclose at her side and she flinches back ( it’s an inception closer than she feels ready for, for a person who doesn’t make her heart beat ) scans yun’s features, she feels empty, but there’s something reassuring about the way he’s so familiar, and the out he offers her on a silver platter. he had said so much that just blew right past her veil of awareness but suddenly his words are hitting like slanted rain that stings her skin, soaks her in investment. she angles her shoulders towards him, brows drag down and suddenly, he exists again. what yun can offer matters now. she’s hearing him. she smirks ( it’s colder than usual, there’s no warmth, no love in it ) “you still remember that night?” it’s almost amusing ( nothing is really funny right now ) propping back against the table, hip to rounded edge, ( there’s a spike of awareness that reminds her who she really wants is across the room and she nearly visibly fights herself to turn away ) her lip pulls in between her teeth, cages there at yun’s words ( ‘ you don’t want him to turn his eyes away, do you ?’ ) she shakes her head hard, a strand of her hair sticks to her lipstick. she wishes daeil were the one across from her right now. ( that’s a stupid thought and she almost doesn’t mean it ) (( but something fights inside of her that she does, does she fucking ever )) it’s all the right words to say. her eyes twitch into a squint at him, yun’s features always so gracious in her heart, even when she had ignored him, bypassed him intentionally on the behalf of jina. she recalls yun’s smiles. he’s not smiling. his voice isn’t so warm now… it’s fuel, thoughts of daeil, burning alive with every emotion he had never expressed for her before. thoughts that he would run over here to her. jungmi’s chest heaves, in-taking air hot and ragged with a need to make him pay. 

she wants to make him fucking suffer. jungmi aches with the urge to make him regret ever leaving her ; she loved him so much, she loved him so good. yet… it wasn’t enough. 

a gulp, legs spread just enough where she’s propped that when she lightly tugs their conjoined hands he can sink between them, wedge himself against her. her eyes blazing with a nebula of complex emotions. “i never want his eyes off of me…” she tells him, belatedly and she didn’t mean to say that. it just comes out. she tugs him harder, closer. “i want him to see…” her body feels hot…her heart hurts. everything is fuzzy, she pants gently. ( daeil doesn’t even care about her, a part of her mind screams, fights, bitterly bleeds into her plans ) a louder part of her pouts, “can you help noona with that?” she slips her hand out of his, moves her palms up his biceps, over to his shoulders. 

           a part of yun wants to shake her and scream ‘of course! of course i remember! i cherish every single moment we’ve had together!’ but that’s not right. a glimmering clarity in yun’s memory places him back in that night, back in his own shoes. the yun then was confused, hesitant. untrusting but willing to play along because he remembers jungmi from his youth. she was always kind to him, always the pretty noona. back then he allows her to play around with him and walks away from the moment curious and a little flustered. the yun in his mind and the yun now don’t align. it feels like his eyes are crossing, painting an overlapping copies of an image when it should be one, solid form. but yun doesn’t care. what does it matter if he didn’t realized the importance of that reunion in the moment? he can see now how special it had been, what it has lead to. the memory is still there in sparkling clarity, because it laid the foundation for where they are now. how yun is just in her periphery, there only when her gaze latches on him. an unimportant decoration. something she can pull into her orbit and set adrift depending on her need. even now her pretty lip is tucked between her teeth, and there’s so much passion burning in her eyes but its far,  far away. she lets him hold her hand, listens to his words, but it’s jungmi who gets the final say. her intentions, her motivations. and yun won’t have it any other way. he’s happy to be a fleeting fancy, if only just once she turned those eyes on him. even if its the refraction of the emotions for him shining on yun, it’ll be enough. and oh god! now her face meets his. there’s a perfect strand of hair moulded to her mouth and he instantly reaches out to it. he frees it from her lipstick and returns it carefully behind her ear. yun’s fingers are so slow as he tucks it into place, a shiver running down his spine at the delicateness of the soft shell of her ear. his entire body feels like a live wire, and she’s a conductor. he wants to pour everything into her. 

            it happens in a moment. her legs part, yun is pulled forward, and suddenly they’re too close too close too close! his hands shoot out to the table and his hands grip desperately at the wood. a loud gasp hitches from his lungs, and his eyes are blown wide. does she want this? is she agreeing? it’s too intense from this close and his brain is misfiring, unable to do anything but drink it all in. it’s her words that snap him out of it. hot jealousy curls in his gut. it’s all about him, him, him. yun is right in front of her, accepted into her embrace, with her gaze fixed on only him. but even then, she’s not seeing yun. he wants to whine, kick up a fuss, tell jungmi “yes, we can make him jealous, but can’t you at least say my name? can’t you see me? won’t you tell me i’m good for you? because i love you, can’t you see?” but he swallows it all, because this is about her, for her. he can’t let his own selfish desires ruin it now.

            there’s something intimidating about seeing pip here in his home. yun is so used to the barrier of school, the excuse of the herbology club to meet. when they’re fellow students, peers with an interest in wizarding plants, it’s so much easier. the sun is bright in the yosul greenhouse, casting away every shadow of doubt and sin. he can admire pip as he stands at the head of the table, wielding his presidential glow as they all dig their glove-covered hands into pots of dirt and smell the heady earth in the air. yun can respect a man who knows how to carefully re-home a volatile vine, or how to charm the soil to promote the brightest, healthiest greens. it’s an easy role to step into, sunbae and hoobae. united in nothing more than their mutual interests as students and wizards. 

            there are no plants here. no sunlight streaming through greenhouse glass. the moon is bright outside, and instead of earth the scent of the lavender candle yun had lit drifts through the air. there’s no veil to observe through. no social roles to fill. they’re in the privacy of yun’s home, an open bottle of maeobsa wine on the table, and yun’s heart is in his throat. because the admiration is still there, but there’s no glare from the sun to wash the other man in a sterilized glow. yun can look at pip, really looks at him, and see everything he admires about him. the confident curl of his lips, the light that catches in his eyes. the chicness of his dress. pip is like a panther, gorgeous and armed with teeth and claws and yun is terrified. but he wants to be closer. yun’s a fluttering rabbit who’s all too willing to bare his neck. 

            there’s nothing like the warm spring sun to inspire creativity. call him a romantic, one of those old american poets who wrote about the splendors of nature. but this day seems made to inspire change and growth. he can smell wildflowers in the air, can hear the buzzing of excited insects’ wings. when he breathes in, the air is crisp and clean and cool like a bubbling spring. it clears his mind, makes way for new ideas to be born instead. it’s a day of new beginnings, so he has his newest guitar settled in his lap. the lacquer on the wood is still fresh and shining, making the color so much lighter and brighter. the strings are fresh and taught so when he dances his fingers across them their twang is sharp. it’s a good day, a great day, and he smiles with his eyes closed and face tilted towards the sun. 

            “so what are we going to name this duo?” he asks. another strum, e major, then his palm goes flat against the fret to stop the sound. he peaks an eye open to look at chaerin. maybe it’s not fair to pose this question to her, since this entire band idea had been at his incessancy. when he had discovered her skill at the piano, his mind immediately filled with thoughts of an acoustic pair, one with little frills and a genuine sound. but if he wants to entice her to dedicating to this project, he wants her to feel involved as well. so picking a name? it’s a good place to start. and an easy segue to talking about further details. a name, a label, it sparks a drive. it’s a bright neon sign with arrows pointing towards it, signaling their goal. 

outgoing to > blueberry boy 🔵: i have an extra guitar if you want to play but i don’t think i’ve ever been mining before 😔

a dark cove on a lonely island, sea salt sticking to the skin, the crash of waves that erodes at the very heart of her ( kwak jungmi is drenched in it ; the coldness of a stretching ocean too far away to cross to the other side ) what would it be like to escape this reserve ? toes sink into sand, she can practically feel the ground swallowing her up and it chokes. what would it be like to feel a confident love, clutched desperately, joyously to your chest as you free fall ? instead, it seems fragile like a shell that’s fit crumble ( and that’s just the way it goes ; the fate of kwak jungmi, isn’t it ? ) a jaw-wired smile freezing on her face when the hand touches her shoulder and she knows it isn’t the right hand. linger look at the person standing across the room, eyelids flutter down ( eyes to ground, swallow gruffly, her throat is so dry ) rotating on axis slowly to look back. ( ‘noona’ ) her pupils dilate when she scans his features, it’s all just fine, familiar and there’s something that drips in sadness, and she doesn’t care ( it isn’t really what she wants to see ) it hurts to be this bitter. she can’t even speak so she just gives him a long look that tethers her like a string to the earthly plane because the pain of love ( what love means to kwak jungmi ) is a transcendent burden. ( ‘noona, you look so sad. please, what can i do ?’ ) she shifts attention down at the contact at her hand, it feels like nothing. warm, it’s warm and dry, her fingers remain as limp as her expression, before her lips twist down into a strict frown. his words continue, he’s speaking more, following his meaning is like trying to catch bubbles with her bare hands ( everything time it’s within grasp, the softest touch sends it popping out of existence )

not when it’s always been like this and how could he have known ? ( she didn’t even know ) “it’s fine.” she doesn’t mean that, her features turn hard, her fingers clutch onto his hold over hers as a reflex ( clutching a fist, teeth gritted again ) “they’re gonna regret it,” she exhales the words and it’s scary how much she means them. had she ever felt bitter obsession, a need to obtain or destroy the love of another person quite like this? ( certainly not ) absolutely so. it’s always been like this. the burning passion to have her affections returned ( no… it’s enough for her loved ones to be happy, isn’t it ? ) “i don’t know how to fix it,” she sneers, “but…” the sneer falls, fleeting like the blink of a firefly, a flash of golden in a sea of dark ( since when is hatred hope, since when is bitterness something she wants to cling to ? ) “why do they always….why isn’t my love ever…” she frowns, pouts. why is she still squeezing his hand ? “sorry.” ( “about your heart” ) the frown is back ( “i know how that feels" )

            now that yun is here, here at her side, he gulps the love-laced oxygen into heaving lungs. the air rushes back into the room, the lights brightening into a halo, and he just drinks it all in. every sensory detail. of the curl in her hair, the unnameable scent of her perfume, the heat working it’s way under his skin and the colors oversaturated and bleeding into one another. it’s all a heady drug that rushes into his head and he’s awake, ever vigilant, focused on the deity in front of him. he follows her gaze like the north star, to where it’s pointed in the crowd and not at him. never at him, unless she needs something. but that’s okay, because he’s here when she does. who is it that has her attention so enraptured? are they the reason for the pain painted on her face like the color on her lips? if jungmi asks with that sweet voice of hers to act as her swift revenge, he shall. like persephone’s hellhound he’ll turn and sink his teeth into whoever twists her heart so. all she has to do is ask, she must know. she must, because she squeezes his hand and it sets off every muscle in his body to tense. ready to flee, ready to fight, ready to take her in his arms if she asks. and then she speaks, and yun listens. he stays silent and waits for her to voice her thoughts, through the start and stop. there’s so much conflict in her words, of yearning and pain. he hears the word ‘regret’ painted vividly in the air between them. it’s the magic word, the one that tells yun there is a culprit and there is justice to be had. it’s the only way to put a smile back on her face. 

            the sound of the party filters out all at once, like the air had been sucked out of the room leaving yun in a vacuum. he can vaguely see jina’s mouth moving out of the corner of his eye, still close from where they’d just wandered in and huddled in the corner. she’s speaking, but yun can’t pay attention to a single word. because jina is not the kwak his attention is focused on right now. everything fuzzes away at the edges until it’s her front and center in his vision. her who looks ethereal in her suit and oh so sad that yun’s heart breaks. what is it about tonight that’s made his attention snap in to focus? is it the lights, the music, the smartness of her jacket that’s opened yun’s eyes? because kwak jungmi has never looked more beautiful, and yun has never felt a love like this in his life. it consumes him, drowns him, hooks right into his chest and tugs painfully in her direction. how could he have missed this before? even when she had crowded him against the wall and brought her lips so close to his own, all for the sake of an illusion? how had he walked away with only his heart thumping and his cheeks stained pink when now it feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t take her hand in his and tell her how stunning she looks? 

            it’s not a choice when he tilts his face towards jina, eyes not leaving her sister. it’s not a choice when he murmurs, “hold that thought, i’ll be right back” before stalking across the room. it’s a necessity, because jungmi looks so devastating and so heartbroken it’s like a tragic greek statue. she’s carved out of cool marble that yun is absolutely not allowed to brush his fingers against to trace the loveliness of her form. but yun is a fool, head swimming with adoration and love, love, love! so he comes to her side, so weak and so devoted. he places a hand on her shoulder, trying to let his unbridled affection seep through the touch and let her know that there’s no need for such melancholy in her beautiful eyes. he’d do anything to take it away, to build over it with joy. 

send ✆ for a morning text

outgoing to > noona neomu yeppo 🔁: noona its way too early in the morning

outgoing to > noona neomu yeppo 🔁: some of us have classes i can’t be breaking you in whenever you want 

outgoing to > noona neomu yeppo 🔁: text me at lunch hours and we’ll see!!

            it’s not the polite thing to do to pick favorites when it’s among people. people are not means to an end, they are ends in and of themselves. trying to place value on them, to weigh your relationships on a scale to see who ends up on top, it’s not right. so when yun looks to his friends, he sees people he cherishes, all who mean different things in his life. so no, yun doesn’t place hyemi on a higher level than his other friends. she doesn’t get the gold medal with ‘yun’s one and only best friend!’ engraved on the front. but hyemi is the one he sees himself in the most. she’s the one who he can talk to and feel his own pain, his own wonder, his own insecurities and joys reflected back to. because hyemi is the silver-under-glass for yun. she is a flipped copy of him. so similar, and yet just the opposite. it’s not himself he’s really looking at, but the mirror image of himself. hyemi with her maeobsa mother and absent wizard father, with that empty half of herself that is the phantom limb yun wears. 

            so maybe hyemi isn’t his best friend, but he knows what she is to him. she is like the missing part of himself, the alternate dimension version where he spent his life raised by his maeobsa blood, yearning to be in touch with his magical side. their pain is one coin, two sides. he’s the head; clinging to his anthropology of maeobsa textbook and staring down at the seoul streets from his guarded apartment window. she’s the tail; experiencing the wizarding world for the first time as she steps onto the yosul campus. all the wonder and power and family hierarchy that she had been denied. it’s addicting talking to her, being around her. it’s like the coin is spinning so fast that the faces can’t be seen, just one blurred globe with no sides and no edges. a complete circle. 

            when had life ever become this complicated? is it a sign of growing out of childhood innocence when nothing seems to go right anymore? because it’s how yun feels. age sits heavy in his bones, burrowing into his marrow and leeching the joy out of his very core. it’s not that he’s unhappy. he’s not miserable. he’s just bitten into the forbidden fruit, and suddenly he can see the world with new eyes. and with his unclouded mind comes feelings he’s never expected before. a complicated miasma of envy and lust and bitterness and frustration. problems can’t be solved with a hug and a stumbled apology anymore. and he doesn’t want them to. because problems aren’t just sharing toys or pushing each other down in the playground. it goes much deeper than that, a cutting blade that wounds deeper than a bandaid can solve. and yun has all these complicated emotions inside of him, so instead of addressing the problem he lets the open wound fester until its a gnarly, numb scar. a scar that wouldn’t exist if he had swallowed his pride and let open communication weave between them like a stitch closing flesh. 

            so yun is sick of being this angsty, turmoil-riddled adult. he’s sick of letting jina dictate when they’re allowed to be friends and when they’re not. because her absence in his life is another gaping hole that pains him to look at. it hadn’t been easy to build the bridge back from where it’d been torched in childhood. it was a struggle of sharp words and awkward silence and a genuine effort to forge a friendship that will last. and maybe he tried too hard with jina, and maybe that’s why his efforts for a friendship came off as more. it hurts him to think that he’d led jina one when all he wanted to do was be by her side and wish for her happiness. is that enough to signal love? does he take his devotion to his friends too far, or is jina just so unused to unbridled support that the feelings were twisted into something more? either way, it’s lead to another break in their friendship, and now months later yun is sick of it. if he has to dial back his open affection for his friend he will, as long as it means he doesn’t have to stare at her unsaved number in his phone whenever he wants to reach out. maybe he’ll build this bridge out of something less flammable this time.  

            how do you keep up with the ones you love? it feels like such an impossible task. maybe he’s got too many distractions on his mind. there are classes, and with each year he ages the coursework becomes harder and harder, demanding so much more of the attention and time that yun just does not want to dedicate. it’s a blow to his usually stable ego to be having such a hard time with his lessons. if he had been born a studious soul than sure, fifth year isn’t so bad. but there’s not a single part of yun that cares about potions or charms or defense against the dark arts. his relationship with magic is a vibrant one; there’s no rules, no structures. his wand obeys him when it wants to, and casts spells left of his intentions, but it’s fine when he’s at home and can thrive in the chaos magic forges around him. but with school there are rules and expectations he increasingly can’t meet, not with their narrow views of what is correct and what is a flagrant clumsiness with the magic he had been gifted with. the pressure is exhausting, and it’s distracting him from his usual joys in life. 

            but yun is not one to let himself sink into self-loathing and wrap himself in sticky loneliness. his feet and arms and chest might feel heavier, but it’s all a mindset. if he lets himself spiral there’s no coming out of it, not with his music or his mother or his friends. so for the sake of his own sanity he needs to find a way to clear his head, remind himself that his worth isn’t determined by the grades delivered at the end of the year. and if there’s one person yun knows is best to drag him out of his funk, it’s changmin. because changmin has been nothing but adoring to yun, making him feel small and special and cared for. like the burdens of this world don’t have to be shouldered by him alone, and that if he stumbles and fails it’s not the end of the world. so he seeks out changmin at the end of the baking club’s meeting, lingering in the doorway with his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. when the room clears except for his intended target, yun carefully slips inside.