LOOSE THREAD

He hadn’t thought twice about the word, just like he had thought much about coming to her place twice in one week. 

He catches a glance of her from where he is, watching her face fold in on itself. It had been her face that had caught his attention from the beginning after all, and right now – seeing her scowl so transparently was enough to highlight the week. 

“Good girl… sure.” He snorts, lingering on the first word a little too long with skepticism. “And what exactly has kept miss good girl so busy at school then? I am just desperately dying to hear of your educational adventures.” 

Some people spoke with too much care, and others with too little. Some people talked too much and others not at all. If there was anything that he knew about humans, it was that they rarely said what they were thinking, and Jungah was just the same. Rather, it was all the things that was missing in her speech that were louder. Like how he had noticed she rarely said his name in conversation (or in bed, in that matter). Whether that was just habit of nature or to keep him out of mind and sight, he wasn’t sure.  

He makes himself at home on her couch, as if his own.

“Do you want to know what I do?” 

He asks because he already knows she doesn’t, while at the same time wanting to. Maybe he was tired of concealing, ready to stop running, or knew that nothing much would change in their relationship what he did outside of whatever this was for them. If he had been more careful in hiding everything and anything about himself in their relationship till date, visiting her on Saturday had been his first mistake. 

Jungh’s fingers slipped over the chest of the form, smiling at her own choice of words. “Mhm, I’m always a good girl. My record is clean.”

(This wasn’t a lie—there was no concrete evidence for any particular crime that could be pinned on her. The record was still there, though. She liked the idea of people having her name on their tongue in the prescient office.)

With her chin resting against the form’s shoulder, humming to herself happily. She loved to talk about herself, and at least with Juwon she could do it a little more than with others. Just a little. Maybe enough to earn that friend title he was talking about.

Maybe.

“The other forms have some projects on them for school. I take my work seriously. There are some design courses, etcetera, but, mostly it’s just projects anymore.” She pushed herself away from the form and stood in front of it, partially admiring her own handiwork and partially finding things she could fix. “If I did, it would make this whole request of yours easier to deal with.” Now, she crossed her arms over her own chest, turning to him and staring Juwon down. She knew his measurements and how his body moved (take that however you’d like), but knowing what he needed the material for in that specific style would help with the construction.

Prying? No. It was just to do her job properly. It wasn’t that she cared about him, about what he did, about what he would do that would require anything like this.

i miss writing, honestly. so, you and me both though i’m not sure about the powerful part.

i just miss going on a roll of words but i have been playing through the yakuza games again and thinking about this account and just how much i miss this character so hopefully, hopefully, i’ll do more.

“the academy really kicked my ass- it was like military service all over again,” jimin winces as he recalls all the training he had to endure, no matter how hot the summer sun was or how unforgiving winter was, he ran up the mountain everyday. “ah, well, i heard military service is kind of tolerable these days. did you know they have karaoke rooms at the base camps? they don’t beat up lower ranking soldiers anymore too.” 

still, he’d do it all over again if he went back in time. meeting jungah again, he isn’t so sure. she made all those nights at the convenience store tolerable, made him look forward to the next day. he’s just not sure if the fear and the anger he’d felt back then would be worth it. 

she liked it too. it almost comforts him, makes the memory less bitter. he sinks back into his seat a little more as his shoulders relax. “good, because this would have been fucking awkward if you said otherwise.”

“i’m just as stubborn, too,” jimin grins. “i’m happy that you haven’t changed-” he pauses, looking at her properly this time. “-…a lot. from my observation.” but then again, she’s never shown him every side of her. he’s just relieved to see that she still possesses the streak of kindness she’s shown him back when they were kids.

their situation hasn’t changed much either. they’re still keeping secrets from each other, it’s just that both are now painfully aware of it.  

“my mom died two years ago,” he tells her quietly. “heart complications- she’s always been weak, y’know? could’t even consider the option of a transplant since i could barely afford the basics. and then when she died and while i was mourning and thinking of all sort of things, i briefly wondered if i should have ignored that man and continued to see you if my mom was going to die anyway.” 

jimin falls into silence, his gaze falling from her face once more. it’s difficult to look at her for so long- he almost feels guilty if he does. “it was stupid, but i realized i was still hurt from that when i thought i was over it. and listen, i told you this already but don’t feel bad- it’s not like you did it. shit happens that’s out of your control. you can’t have a say in everything that goes around you. let’s call it even, yeah? i’m sorry for yelling at you and you’re sorry because of what your family did.”

“…listen,” he continues, voice hesitant. “you have my number now, so feel free to call me for drinks or something,” jimin nods towards his business card. “you don’t have to, but it’s always nice to see a childhood friend from time to time.” 

“…if you want, that is.” 

“Is that so?”

Was he just bullshitting now? Rambling off about training for two institutions she really didn’t care about. Is he really that much of a government man now? Was he going to lecture her on taxes? (Get it together, Jungah. Keep your head up.)

At least, she had an excuse to feign ignorance.

“I go to Ewha; I don’t know many guys who have gone to the military recently aside from a few. So, I can’t say I know much about it. Still sounds like it made you tough.”

A few, meaning some of the men who worked for her family. But he didn’t need to know that or that her cousins were able to buy their way out of having to do their service.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Jimin decided to drop a few bombshells on her one after the other.

“I’m happy that you haven’t changed a lot.”

The Jungah that Jimin knew all those years ago was a different Jungah. That Jungah was a little sweeter, had a little bit less training, and hadn’t had enough life experience to know when to stop giving a shit. Hell, even that Jungah was too enamored with Jimin and the idea of something somewhat normal, somewhat innocent, that not even she knew who that was. Even then she didn’t want get him dragged into everything which is exactly why as he continued on, her heart sank.

Would it be wrong to say no?

He was a cop.

“I take it I’m still youthful?” she tried to laugh it off, smiling a bit, trying to not flirt or flatter herself too much. It was a hard switch to turn off, but she’d be damned if she let him see her like that.

(Whenever the day would come, she wondered what he’d think about her. Would he recognize her? Would that day ever come?)

God, the irony was still killing her.

Why couldn’t have he just become some thug on the street?

(She knew why; Jimin was a good person.)

To become friends with a man who just opened up that his mother passed away, the same woman her family used to threaten him. A man who was now on the polar opposite of her world, part of a system she didn’t trust. It was twisted, and she had to pull her hands into her lap so she could pinch her wrist to keep from scowling in frustration. The world was twisted and sick, and as she stared at him across the tiny table in a place that smelled too strongly off coffee (her clothes were going to reek after, gross) she just couldn’t find it in her to say no.

It was like a slap in the face (not that she had many of those), and so were the words that fumbled out of her mouth. “I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sure she’s very proud of you.” Jungah felt a little awkward offering her condolences. Was that even right? She should probably visit his mother’s grave some time to apologize properly.

She waited a beat to get herself together again and smiled at him. The girl from years ago couldn’t help but to say yes, even if it was another half-baked lie.

“Childhood friends who go out for drinks, that also reminds me of a drama.”

This was bad. This was dangerous.

Just by association, she could get him fired. Then what?

Her thumb brushed over his name, wondering if he already knew.

No, he couldn’t. She couldn’t see him lying to her like that.

“Let’s do it, then. Let’s not be strangers.”

She's adjusted to working in her office and having a greater control of some business ventures.

Hand picking individuals to have in her branch is something she likes to do. She's finding it more fun to have a wide variety of talents.

Some of the ideas she's had are more based in funding for start-ups.

Mentally, she's still at a strange place regarding paranoia.

(The Red Plum is still out there.)

She's made the decision to pick Sunggyu as her marriage partner. She just hasn't told him it's time yet, since she still would like to enjoy her freedom.

Her guilt because of the last item does make it harder to foster certain relationships.

enough to forget yourself. and forget himself he did. easy enough when the only way he ever even knew himself was through the women he cycled through. but now, for once in his life, he had no one. maybe all that transpired was meant to lead him to this realization. tommy was a lot less optimistic, however. for now, he rather focus on jungah’s touch.

“ah, of course,” he responded, taking off his denim jacket and placing it beside him. “here we are.” tommy patted the spot, looking up at her. “nice an’ warm.”

was that what he wanted? to mimic the couples nearby? perform some sort of normalcy for once?

“it’s funny being here,” he stated matter-of-factly, looking past her, “I came for some inspiration but this feels like the wrong place.” it felt odd jumping into conversation, knowing nearly nothing of her life since she was barely twenty years old. jungah was always secretive, not up for much talking from the heart. and tommy liked it that way. she was real, yet sometimes only a figment. they knew each other intimately and how the other worked, and that was all that mattered. intimacy is funny that way.

“I’ve been writing…something different. it’s working, I think.” tommy nodded to himself, his thoughts visibly carrying him away as he held his notebook still. “feels foreign, but I don’t know, maybe that’s what I gotta do.”

“You’ll never find yourself a woman who will settle down with you if you forget these things. Manners are important in a man.” It was funny that she first met him at a formal event; she couldn’t imagine him being at another one without getting kicked out. Finally, Jungah sank herself down onto the ground, sitting on his jacket. That was better than getting any of her own clothes dirty. Grass stains or mud? No, thank you.

Once she got herself settled, she was able to take in the scenery around them. The sun was sinking further and further and the sky had become a pleasant shade of pink. “This seems to be more of a sentimental setting than what you used to write.” Perhaps this is why he wanted to see her. Something different and something familiar. “It’s good to try something new. Maybe you’ll learn something and that’ll help with your other endeavors.” Whatever it was, maybe it was something he needed.

A creative adventure did sound nice. She figured should probably do that, at some point. Maybe she’d pencil it in, but that felt like it would defeat the purpose. She hadn’t had a chance to be truly creative since she graduated. Jungah couldn’t pretend anymore. Not like when she could fool around with him easily, had the freedom of school and time and less people depending on her.

She had responsibilities.

Whatever.

before turning back to look over his shoulder, he already knew it was her. it was all too familiar—her tone of voice, her jests and teases, her interiority. his face lit up with a bright, gap-toothed smile. 

“oh, yeah?” he teased back, his brows raised, “missed me?” 

he bit back his grin, turning his face to the water. endless thoughts clouded his mind as he wondered whether she knew what had happened since they last had seen (and felt) each other years ago. she must know. she knows everything. but tommy wasn’t as popular as he thought, so he ended up not making many headlines at the time. sure, a marijuana scandal is a big press day, but it all eventually fizzles. he got in and out as quietly as possible.

part of him wanted to know if she checked on him throughout the years. his heart raced at the thought she wouldn’t.

“you haven’t changed one bit.”

and it was true—at least to his recollection. while they met when they were both much younger, she remained charming and fresh-faced. it was one of the many things that attracted him to her. tommy, on the other hand, had acquired many more tattoos, most noticeably the palm fronds on his neck that crawled up to his shadowed jawline. now nearing his thirties, his once bright eyes began to finally reflect the life he had lived.

tommy searched for her gaze as he spoke. 

“y’know, seeing you is like…being myself again.” 

sheepishly, he looked down at his hands, fingering the pages of his notebook.

He still looked a little rough around the edges. Jungah thought. She took note that he had more tattoos now, which made him look more like the men that flanked her regularly. It was nice that tattoos were a little more common now for keeping things under wraps. Though, she’d not let her men dress as she remembered Tommy did.

“I’m glad, that means I still look well.” She already believed she looked good; Jungah rarely needed the compliments of others to reassure her. “You, on the other hand, look a little different. Not a lot, but enough.” Jungah bent her knees slightly and traced a bit of the tattoo on his neck with her finger. “This, for instance.” It’d probably fade over time since it was so exposed—but at least he wouldn’t need to do it in the same way her family did. She retracted her hand though and stood up straight, peering past him at his notebook. “I guess some time away with yourself was enough to forget yourself, huh? That sounds a little opposite of what should happen, if you ask me.”

august 3rd, 2019 - @pullstrings

with a heavy sigh and notebook in hand, tommy sat down on the grass not too far from the water. he had come to the han river for some writing inspiration and fresh air. but as soon as he arrived, he began to regret it. everywhere he looked there were young couples giggling and cooing under trees and much more good-looking young men and women jogging right under his nose. while it had already been a few months since he was released from prison (early, with probation at that), tommy felt odd in public spaces. he rarely grocery shopped or went out to eat. most of his work was done in the comfort of his own home. he tried his best to stay out of trouble now that he felt some sense of career stability. and yet, he missed his old self. old friends. old flames.

pursing his lips in thought, he reflected a bit on what it was he actually wanted. sometime between when he moved to seoul and the moment his sentence was set, he had decided that he wanted to become known for making music. not as an addict or sick person. now that he was out, he debated whether it was that he wanted to be known for his music or simply just known. sitting in arguably the most populated area he had inhabited as of late, he felt largely insignificant and unseen in his baseball cap. maybe notoriety was what he was looking for all along. absentmindedly, he took out his phone and began to scroll through his contacts for some hopeful affirmation. mid-way he stopped. jungah? he mouthed out the name. jung-ah? memories came rushing in. quickly, he messaged her.

[ sms » jungah ? ] hey. remember me? 

tommy snapped a photo of the twinkling water that reflected the setting sun, making sure the illuminated bridge was recognizable in the distance so that it was unmistakable where he was. he attached the photo in the chat.

[ sms » jungah ? ] let’s meet.

The accountant across from Jungah seat would pipe up with something about the investments they had, or questions about this or that—stuff that was important and that she did keep tabs on, but she didn’t like the process of crunching the numbers herself. Instead, she was fiddling with her phone, reading the news for anything that looked salacious or worrisome for her.

“And this…”

“Uh huh.”

It was like that for another hour until he left and Minwoo told her that she had no other appointments (she already knew this and proceeded to tell him that— he rolled his eyes). It was a relief, since her mind was wandering.

She didn’t want to be there, but she didn’t know where to go. It was a strange, listless feeling she couldn’t pinpoint.

Then, of course, the phone that was still in her grasp vibrated, and a name she had to remind herself of brought back a flood of late nights, roaming hands, and needed distractions from years ago. It’d be rather strange to spend the night with him after all this time so she expected that wasn’t what he wanted (but, it wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t change at all).

So, he’d probably be a good distraction now, right?

[sms; Kuddo ] Sure.

And she was off, in her car, to get a distraction.

...

When Jungah found him, by himself, she didn’t sit down at first. She took a moment to stare at him from above and recount the last time they even were in contact. A text, probably. She deleted messages too often to remember what it had last been about, but she could throw out a few guesses.

“It’s rude to ask a woman to come to you out of the blue.”

She said it with a smile, partially serious and partially joking.

That confidence of hers remained admirable. He wondered how strong it was.

Rhys smiled cutely — well aware how off putting his comment was — as the drink girl did her job and left the three of them alone once again. He sat forward and smoothly flattened his palm on the folder’s top to keep it from sliding off the edge (whether it would’ve or not). She spoke as he prodded through it. Paper after paper. Followed by blueprints. Promises. Rhys barely listened, really, until the faint coughing made him lift his head up, and was met with Jungah’s smile. Something about the curve of her lips didn’t feel genuine.

He wondered how strong she was.

“This is some type of laundering, hm?” Rhys asked, though he didn’t expect an answer. Slowly, his fingers closed the folder, but his eyes never left her. “You introduced yourself as Jungah. But these men call you Yoon.” A small tilt of his head toward the door. “Is this project–” Rhys let his words trail off for a moment. He was still sitting forward, but now he took the folder in his hands. Patient as his eyes stared and stared– “–for you or your family?”

"Not so much laundering, no." The plans for the first underground level were mostly for the space to act as a buffer between the first floor and the second underground level. Something nice and soundproof. Jungah took her grandmother's advice for the space, even if she hoped she wouldn't have to use that room often. "But I will be storing some things here and there, sure. It's nothing you should concern yourself with." The less Rhys knew, the better it was for all parties involved.

"For you, or your family?"

Jungah took a sip of her drink and stared directly back at Rhys, pride swelling in her chest over her own family name. "What benefits me, benefits my family. And whatever benefits my family, benefits me." They were inseparable-- for better or for worse. Jungah refused to believe it was of any detriment to her, but deep down she knew that wasn't entirely true.

Keia’s stare was sharp as she stopped short of the two, Rhys’s leather jacket in hand and held out for him to take. Rhys gave her a side eye as the cleanly man spoke to her and she seemingly ignored his presense. Keia didn’t respond until Rhys took his jacket from her grasp, her voice cold, “In a body bag preferably.” And sauntered away with her glare still as fierce as a wildcat. Rhys clicked his tongue, but immediately returned his attention when Jungah’s man addressed him. With a curt nod — and a brief smile at the “timely” part — Rhys swung on his coat as he followed the no-name man.

Eyes. Many, many eyes were on him, watching him, it felt like. As if the stuffy, awkward car ride hadn’t been painful enough. There were men everywhere. It was a power play. Cute.

Rhys gave the man at the door a short acknowledgement. He had just hung up his phone call as him and his guide walked by. So orderly. So timely. Suddenly, Rhys began to feel caged, cornered. He made note not to chew on his cheek. He didn’t want to show his growing uneasiness. Calm, collected, eyes kept forward, he wouldn’t bulk or cave in, even if he’d rather be smothered with a pillow then suffocated by this atmosphere.

Rhys met his eyes with hers. The moment he saw her, he could tell Jungah had more confidence, comfortability. Afterall, this was her territory, and he was just an outsider. Tread carefully. Rhys bowed his head in greeting and lifted it up slowly with a small smile adorned to his lips. He was clean this time, neat. Hair smoothed back and clothes a bit more refined. He made sure to stay away from anything messy at the shop. Prepared.

He made note of the other man in the room, but kept his full attention on the woman seated behind the desk. “Jungah,” Rhys began, his features friendly, “It’s nice to see you again.” No mention of her surname.

There was something incredibly relaxing about the warmth and scent of the office. Perhaps it was the fact that she had entirely gutted the office and had it redecorated to her liking, but she was more inclined to think it was the atmosphere of a place she was beginning to call a second home.

(Confidence was definitely something that Jungah did not lack.)

Jungah scoffed when Rhys declined a drink; she wasn’t a low-class criminal. Really, she didn’t think of herself as a criminal at all, but rather, a businesswoman. Usually, her definitions were loose. As far as Jungah was concerned, someone of her caliber would certainly not poison a thing. When the drink girl looked at her with an unsure expression (who would tell Junah no?), she simply nodded and smiled, doing her best to look unfazed. “Well, Seoul’s water isn’t always the best, so that’s understandable.” The drink girl nodded, reaching on the bottom shelf of the cart and setting a bottle of artisan water as well as a glass down in front of Rhys.

All the while, Minwoo hid his laugher behind his hand.

Still slightly perturbed, Jungah slid the folder across the coffee table over the Rhys. “Blueprints of what we’ll be building.” She sat straight, as usual, and reached for her drink as the woman with the drink cart dismissed herself from the room (only after being stopped by Minwoo for a drink—Jungah resisted the temptation to roll her eyes). “We had someone draw up plans for a garage, etcetera. Then, at the basement levels…” She waved her free hand as if she was trailing off on her train of thought. “Well, that’s for me.”

Elaboration wasn’t needed. At least, she hoped for her sake it wasn’t. It would be too bothersome to deal with, but she had a very nagging thought that he wouldn’t let it go.

“I own a few buildings in the area and the rest of the neighborhood are all very familiar with me, so I am sure they’d love your services upon my recommendation.” She took a sip of her drink, savoring the flavor before continuing on. “If anything, I’ll be sure to utilize your services.” Cue another classic Jungah smile and Minwoo coughing out some of his drink.

She was this close to asking Minwoo to wait outside.

Asshole.

Keia’s stare was sharp as she stopped short of the two, Rhys’s leather jacket in hand and held out for him to take. Rhys gave her a side eye as the cleanly man spoke to her and she seemingly ignored his presense. Keia didn’t respond until Rhys took his jacket from her grasp, her voice cold, “In a body bag preferably.” And sauntered away with her glare still as fierce as a wildcat. Rhys clicked his tongue, but immediately returned his attention when Jungah’s man addressed him. With a curt nod — and a brief smile at the “timely” part — Rhys swung on his coat as he followed the no-name man.

Eyes. Many, many eyes were on him, watching him, it felt like. As if the stuffy, awkward car ride hadn’t been painful enough. There were men everywhere. It was a power play. Cute.

Rhys gave the man at the door a short acknowledgement. He had just hung up his phone call as him and his guide walked by. So orderly. So timely. Suddenly, Rhys began to feel caged, cornered. He made note not to chew on his cheek. He didn’t want to show his growing uneasiness. Calm, collected, eyes kept forward, he wouldn’t bulk or cave in, even if he’d rather be smothered with a pillow then suffocated by this atmosphere.

Rhys met his eyes with hers. The moment he saw her, he could tell Jungah had more confidence, comfortability. Afterall, this was her territory, and he was just an outsider. Tread carefully. Rhys bowed his head in greeting and lifted it up slowly with a small smile adorned to his lips. He was clean this time, neat. Hair smoothed back and clothes a bit more refined. He made sure to stay away from anything messy at the shop. Prepared.

He made note of the other man in the room, but kept his full attention on the woman seated behind the desk. “Jungah,” Rhys began, his features friendly, “It’s nice to see you again.” No mention of her surname.

There was something incredibly relaxing about the warmth and scent of the office. Perhaps it was the fact that Jungah had entirely gutted the office and had it redecorated to her liking—actually, thinking on it, it was entirely her doing, and she congratulated herself on it. Before the door opened and Rhy’s presence was announced. She thanked his escort, giving a short nod to indicate they’d discuss his little trip to the shop later and the performance of the newbie. It was, of course, understood, and the door was shut behind him.

A gleam of playfulness flickered in her eyes when her gaze met with Rhys’. “It’s nice to see you again as well, please, take a seat.” She gestured toward the couch in front where Minwoo was slowly getting up from. He gave Rhys only a nod before sauntering to a corner of the room to watch everything play out, hands in his pockets and a bored expression on his face. Jungah, meanwhile, was standing up from behind her desk and whisked herself over opposite the now vacant couch with an accordion file folder to a couch facing opposite it. As she placed the file folder on the coffee table that separated them, a woman entered with a cart, bottles lightly clinking against one another as she rolled it in.

“What’s your drink of choice?”

She didn’t make a request, but already the woman was pouring Jungah a glass of her favorite Merlot.