cumbrous flight

“as you deserve!” air conditioning or melting in sweltering seoul? yeah.

outside, incheon is a prelude. it swallows them both. the bustle typical for a weekend, yulhee makes sure their hands are locked even if it means their palms and fingers will slide. it’s no secret that heels are torture on any day, but being twenty-something means not having to pretend the walk to her car from here is her problem. being herself, on the other hand… “i have a spare pair of sneakers in my trunk.” ugly? 

comfortable.

she’d been equal parts smart and ridiculous enough to park underground. it pays to have her keys in her right hip pocket, right hand wriggling free from ryubin’s left. yulhee presses the trunk button on the remote, unlocking the car with the button above before handing the keys over. “wait in the passenger seat.” she takes the luggage and rolls it to the back of the vehicle, the door already open. pirated italo-disco in 3… 2… 1…

“oh.” the promise of relief overrides whatever discomfort you might have felt seconds ago. if your intuition is anything to go by (and usually it is), you know exactly which pair awaits you. you try not to make a face, but it’s difficult when you’re just learning the one-two-threes of cordial socialization. and it’s not as if you’ve ever been bothered to show your best face around yul. “i think i’ll be okay without them.” you say. you'd rather go barefoot than ugly. 

“thanks, though.” an afterthought, to be sure... but it counts, right?

“save the dramatics, yeah?”

it wouldn’t matter if you’d pulled an all nighter completing your dissertation or if you’d simply just slept well into the afternoon. at least you’re here. at least you’re here, too. surely permanent marker nor a new pair of sneakers that only really worked stylistically in high school aren’t the worst things to witness…

yulhee crushes the paper with her hands, stuffing it into the front pocket of her overalls before moving to help with her cousin’s bags. one of the lighter ones since she wants to be ryubin ryubin today. “they’re comfortable,” she decides. having a lighter bag on her person makes it easier for her to switch it over onto her other shoulder, easier to reach down and lace her fingers with ryubin’s. “are you?” (yes, annoying as she is with her newly picky ways. hypocritical considering kitschy was her thing not too long ago!)

you crane your gaze, calmly incredulous. “no... i don’t think i will.” the occasion calls for nothing but dramatics. how long has it been since you last step foot in this country?

blink-blink back to the seollal six months ago, you stuffing your face with dumplings and sauce caressing your chin as yul slips a tissue into your hand. record scratch. so maybe a rephrase is in order.

when was the last time you saw those dungarees, is probably the better question. the sight of it brings back equally rosy memories, particularly the faded stain on yul’s left front pocket, another mark of your mischief. you give her hand a small squeeze to sync with the simultaneous scrunch of your face. “yes.” you make it a point to ignore the pinch in your heels. “i love a well air-conditioned unit. i forgot how horrible the humidity is here—watch me melt the second we step outside.”

you’ve a good mind to tell auntie what a good girl yul is. you really mean it, too—like, what the heck? she brought you a welcome sign? it’s probably a page ripped out of one of the notebooks from her mountain of unused stationery? you can practically smell the permanent marker from here? 

you’re nearly moved to tears.

“yul,” you strut down to the clear barricades and gesture for her to walk with you, talk with you. “you didn’t. you did.” not much of a greeting, but surely she knows better by now than to expect one.

you happen to glance down at the monstrosity on her feet on the other side of the glass. ryubin might have commented; you, however, politely refrain. 

she’s 30, a choreographer at light feet studios, and a dance mentor at midang. probably responsible for helping whip groups like wish day and silver line in shape, but has also choreographed for kn’s tinker, yhy’s gozip, and redux’s cross_over, albeit not as frequently as her midang mainstays

specializes in ballet, modern, jazz, and lyrical styles... she gotchu covered for anything that needs a bit of heightened grace but anything else she’ll yeet or whine at “it girl” to take over 😛 such a good employee 😝

in a few words, lee ryubin is: contentious, greedy, and guarded. hates giving advice. hates listening to advice. gives 0 fucks, sometimes half a fuck. but hey she looks great! and hosts a mean sunday brunch complete with mimosas so uh cheers to that 🥂