repeat rewind

but the memories of one’s youth is a tricky thing. see, once upon a time, she’d pull on the latch, let the pressure out only to find that she’d wounded everyone else around her. and it wasn’t just the people that stood outside the door. it was her parents. it was her friends. it was nabi. now, every time she places her hand on the latch, she thinks of them. of all the bad that she’d cause and all the havoc that could arise from it. and she’d hesitate, long enough that the cycle ends and the panic subsides, and she can finally take that necessary breath.

today is one of those days. she’s sipping on her flat white, pen in hand, when she hears a nagging voice. looks up to find a spitfire customer hassling sodam about a drink she’s ordered, and she feels that pressure grow. she doesn’t realise it, how she’s begun tapping her pen against the table impatiently, glances indignantly at the time displayed on her tablet. 6.49pm. and there’s that voice in her head again, drowning the customer’s complaints as it entertains: what would happen if she just let go? there’s no one here that knows her other than sodam, and she’s not wearing jvyeon’s uniform. from the lady’s manicured nails, it’s unlikely that she’d ever bother with mountaineering or the like to ever step foot in her shop. it would be an isolated incident. an exception. a short, tempering, needed 11 minutes.

“hey,” she doesn’t remember the walk here, only that she’s tapping on the lady’s shoulder, and she realises that she’s left the formalities and the taut smile back with her things, “can you…?” nara drags two pinched fingers across her lips in a zipping motion, “you’re disturbing the peace.” she drags her gaze derisively along the lady’s form, darts momentarily towards sodam, then back to the matter at hand, “this is a study-friendly zone. you know, you should try it sometime.” a smile. “to learn some manners.”

and so she's used to it, really. grown accustomed to the relentless demands that a full time job in hospitality entails, resilience honed by the merciless crucible of her father's influence. it's simply routine when another customer yaps at her across the till, and sodam plasters on a forced smile like second nature. though it never gets any easier, doesn't dull the sting that grates on her nerves. like sharp arrows aimed at her patience, as if whatever trespasses she's committed in the past have somehow rendered her deserving of this.

still, she knows better than to let her guard slip. nods of feigned understanding punctuate her responses, conceals the frustration that simmers within her. her eyes, momentarily glancing past the customer, fixate on some distant point, eventually falling comfortably on the presence of her friend studying in the corner. perhaps nara's mistaken it as a call for help when sodam catches the older walking towards where she stands, and it's not that she isn't grateful — there’s enough attention surrounding her, a safety net in case it’s truly needed.

he doesn't know why it's there, either, in the pit of his stomach, attempting to purge itself through the closed tight tunnel of his throat. when he sees her there, quickly turning to avoid her instead. when she's laughing now, her voice as soft as the gentle touch of summertime's rays early in the morning, peeking through the blinds sheepishly, falling down unto his skin as an intimate touch. in every other universe, he would have forgotten her and everything about her the moment he's walked out of those hotel doors, quiet click of it closing left in his wake.

how funny he's stuck in the one universe where he doesn't, literally and figuratively.

he allowing himself to fall down a rabbit-hole where he can delude himself successfully that who he speaks with is anyone else but kwon sodam. that it's just a stranger, who happens to be there by chance. but in the end, in spite of his best efforts, it is her there in front of him, and her smile is the blinding glare he cannot look away from. and maybe he's willing to play the role of the imprudent icarus, because maybe, the descent is not what awaits him once he reaches for that beam of hers.

he tilts his head, "yeah, especially now. even some kids got butterflies after we explained to their parents it'll disappear in a few days."

an unusual type of comfort settles into him, then, and he no longer finds himself weighing whether he should be looking down the precipice of their ride, or towards her. his hands rest atop his knees, in a way to calm them and subdue the nervousness which courses through him, but jaewon's eyes wander in miniscule little jerks; the curve of her jaw, that little upturn of her lips as he leftover of her mellifluous laugh, the makeup around her eyes. she should be a stranger.

"yeah, it's gone really well. their leg healed exceptionally, too. i can sho " his breath is cut short. he can what? "ah. i still can't believe someone would travel two hours just to have me work on their skin. it's surreal."

he smiles, and a gentle wave of warmth spreads past her skin, casting a rosy hue upon her cheeks. sodam nods, laughs, listens. as though she's guided by some familiar force, intricate wires delicately weaving their way through her being. almost instinctively, she finds herself slipping back into a comfortable rhythm with him, and the pretence they once held so tightly onto starts to fade away.

"hm, i'll think about it. barracuda's quite out of the way, you know..." she says in jest, head tilting slightly. "i've been thinking of getting another one, actually. do you have any staff discounts? friends and family privileges?" sodam pauses, blinking for a moment. perhaps a little too soon to ask. quickly saving herself with a grin, makes herself add, "subin's gonna get that end of the stick, by the way. we're like, distant cousins if you squint enough." with that logic, so are the rest of daegu.

pretending comes easy to her, always has been. but now, at every turn of the ferris wheel, every shift of its gears, it's feeling less like a facade she's forcing herself to uphold. lines blurring between feigned niceties and a raw vulnerability, bringing her back to a bittersweet comfort that both soothes and unsettles. the foundation is fragile, however — built upon untold truths and feelings left unspoken. like chapters in a fairytale that's scampered through, bypassing the trials and tribulations that come between, tunnel vision on reaching that coveted happy ending.

it shouldn't be this easy.

two weeks ago, she sits inside a quaint chapel for the first time in many months. barred between her sisters, manicured fingers fiddling with one another during her grandfather's homily. the all too familiar scripture echoing in the background: if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other also. (sodam stifles a laugh, appalled by its absurdity. when the preacher on stage fights fire with fire himself in reality, she's left unconvinced. all talk and no action, empty words that only feel holier than thou.)

when she looks at jaewon again, sitting quietly in front of her, sodam sees how that very same verse could hold true. he's no longer a reflection of herself, no longer two people playing the same game of pretend — instead, he's a mirror of her own faults and what it has cost. the bandaid she's placed recklessly on the bullet wound begins to peel off, revealing fractures that deepen with each passing moment it's left untouched, bleeds raw and unrestrained. once more, the guilt gnaws at her relentlessly, tugs at her conscience. her chest feels tight. it's no longer something she can ignore.

sodam takes a deep breath, hand hovering in the air for a moment as if it's reaching out for something, someone — before finding its place on the edge of the railing. "hey, about last time," her hesitation evident in the way she bites her lip. "that wasn't kind of me to leave you hanging. you don't deserve it," she admits, eyes meeting his as she musters the strength to hold jaewon's gaze.

“You fucking wish.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as if she was physically around to see. His eyes scan the television screen before him, barely taking in what was going on anymore. “It was about a raccoon. I don’t think you watch raccoon TikToks, Sodam.” He listens quietly to the rowdiness going on around on the other end of the line, loud music and murmurs of words he doesn’t quite understand. He figures he’ll be finding out more about it anyways.

It’s like clockwork, really. Sora rises from the sofa lazily, doing a little stretch. A nimble finger clicks the red off button on the remote. He groans on the phone. “You think? What does that even mean?” It doesn’t take long for him to grab his wallet sitting kitchen island and the keys to his car next to it. He’s heading out the door before she even asks. Because really, Kwon Sodam doesn’t need to ask. 

She implies it and he appears.

somehow, what comes next slips too easily, too quickly — the fear of being left alone in stillness consumes her completely, so she holds onto him tight. "stay on the line, please." it’s soft and pleading, nothing like the airy smiles and playful banter they often share at the suh family backyard. the break in her voice doesn't go unnoticed, and sodam hurries back to familiar territory. "i'll pay for your phone bills or whatever. we could go for a burger run after this? just... please stay on," she offers as if it's the only thing she owes him. but suh sora has saved her more than that.

neon lights slide like a lens flare over their faces, shading danyi in highlights of yellowbluepink, with green that carpets the floor with the smell of old plastic and sugar sweet drinks. they're on course two, drink tres, and she's not good at keeping score, but she did get into on someone else's card and hasn't been spotted for swiping the glowstick glasses that perch on her nose, or the rings that shine underneath the black lights. so yeah, danyi probably owes sodam a little bit, maybe a lot — so she's helping the other girl find her soulmate, destined one, love of her life, all of that and more on the mini golf course.

not that the cards are telling any truths, though, other than sodam's photocard and the credit she'd paid. but who says crazy things can't happen? they've seen the signs twice now, and third times the charm, you know. maybe her mom's right about the spirits; maybe danyi's a crock full of shit and idle lies... but she makes a great mini golf partner. those two might balance out.

the grin on danyi's face is matched across her own, though not as wide or electric. "direct action. got it," she parrots, nodding to cement the mental note she's made in her head. "you know i believe in you. you're never wrong." usually a glass half full kind of person, today a drink too many to be told to put two and two together. "but really, you gotta start telling me what the signs are. why do you think i wear contacts? i'm pretty much blind without this prescription." bright features begin to grimace like a petulant child, letting confusion take control. sodam notices the poor worker behind danyi finished with keeping score, thanks them before pulling her friend in the direction of their next course.

it had to be at least 3am at this point, or at least that was zurie's inebriated expertise as her glassy eyes tried to focus on the dim stars outside the bus window. the brightness of the city lights made that a bit of a challenge, as the sky was washed out by all the neon. her forehead was leaned against the cool glass of the window as the sights passed her, none of them all too familiar, but it's not like she was in the most sound state of mind. sodam was seated next to her, likely in the same boat as she. they'd been something of a tandem that night, hitting up a few parties and clubs, and now trying to make their way back in a daze.

zurie was jerked forward slightly by the sudden braking by the driver, and her mind was far too consumed with annoyance to really take in her surroundings. "well gee, i guess it's our stop," she huffed, massaging the soreness in her wrist, which had hit the seat in front of her in the abrupt end of their ride. she grabbed the purse at her feet and linked arms with sodam, hoping it would keep both of them upright with little challenge. with a final glare at the bus driver, zurie led sodam off the bus. if she was correct, they should have been about five minutes from their destination on foot. no big deal at all.

"am i imagining things or was he kind of...an asshole?" zurie struggled to get the words out in a cohesive sequence, as a cloud of exhaust fumes billowed from behind the bus in its hasty exit. she suppressed a cough and swatted the air around them to clear it. "ugh! so let's see...we gotta get on...uh, um..." zurie spoke slowly, finally pausing to look around with some awareness. she didn't recognize any of the signs or buildings...she didn't even recognize the bus stop. she'd definitely never been in this part of daegu before. "oh my god...sodam, i think that was the wrong bus...."

except they're not. to think that she would know this place like the back of her hand, twenty four odd years calling daegu home, yet nothing within her peripheral vision jogs a single memory. signs plastered along brick walls read unintelligible, holds no meaning. it's tempting to place the blame on the haziness, or the headache forming at the base of her skull. but sodam quickly puts the puzzle together, and so does zurie — so she sighs in agreement at their shared realisation.

sodam wastes no time pondering, brown eyes widening at an instant. "oh, i know! i can call sora for a lift. he should be around." searches her purse for her phone and yet, what fills the space looks as foreign as the scene around them. "wait, what the fuck? this isn't mine..." her voice trails off, a pout forming across glossy lips. "jesus christ, is it still at the dive bar? did you see me with my purse after pregame? oh god, i'm not stepping inside a filthy university hall again,” she whines momentarily, however sodam quickly composes herself. turns to face her friend expectantly, hand open in a gimme gesture. "can i borrow your phone for a sec?"

"you're kidding.." eileen's face drops as sodam confirms the situation with the attendant. she's starting to curse the universe for dealing them such bad cards when her friend pulls out the soju. "have i ever told you that i love the way your mind works?" eileen looks at sodam as if she's an angel descending from above. suddenly being stuck in this tiny booth seemed a little bit more bearable.

eileen offers her the pepero box in a trade as she takes one carton from sodam and opens it. it's in the guise of a juice box and couldn't be more perfect for the wandering eyes that happened to glance at their booth. of course eileen isn't above drinking from a bottle in public, but with so many kids around it's a bit of bad look, even for her.

"oh god, i think i see my uncle headed for the disco pang-pang again," she shakes her head in amusement and sips on her drink as she stares at the carnival below them. at least from this height they could people watch. "and isn't that the asshole who crashed your last party? he was such a sore loser," eileen nods to some random guy on the ride and recalls him whining about mini golf being unfair when it was clearly just a night to get wasted and let loose.

fingers reach for a pepero stick from the box, head peering downward towards the crowd as she takes a bite. "someone needs to give your uncle a medal, stat. he's a national hero." bright, keen eyes follow eileen's line of sight, spotting a figure surfing through the discopangpang. it's a wonder how the old man's managing to keep balance. bingo! a lightbulb moment. "hey, wanna bet on how many couples he's gonna trip over and break up this round? my money's on at least five." the change in her voice is apparent, a stroke of eagerness oozing through. turns back to face her company, hands folded across her chest in a challenging gesture. "loser pays for a round and drinks at glogolf." quirks a brow, a sign that she’s not taking no for an answer. a little friendly competition never hurts after all.

she shuffles a little more towards the railings to study the next in their list of suspects, this time much closer and unfortunately, much less of an amusing sight to see. "holy shit, you're right." with a groan, sodam raises her drink near her lips and takes a sip, as if to wash away lingering memories from that night. shame that the devil’s incarnate is sitting on the cart opposite theirs, the bitterness from the alcohol barely enough to counteract the sour taste left in her mouth. "you think he's really from seoul like he claims? i'm like, 99% sure he was bluffing," she scoffs, shaking her head. "he was definitely trying to impress you. all those hongdae stories he was shoving at our faces were taken straight out of tiktok."

Sora is so bored.

His eyelids lazily close, and then open just as quick as his attention snaps back onto the television screen before him. The noises from an old rerun fill up the empty space around him. It’s midnight and summer surrounds him in ways — cicadas buzzing outside the cracked window, half eaten watermelon rinds on the table next to him, the sudden boredom having no plans (for once). He doesn’t need a reason to go out.

Unless the reason is named Kwon Sodam and she’s ringing up his line. Sora blinks a few times, just barely processing whatever TikTok video he was half paying attention to and the fact his best friend was calling him. “I swear, Sodam, if I lost this funny TikTok because of you, — ” The threat falls short; the softness in the edge of his voice that is almost entirely born from Sodam’s mere presence is a dead giveaway. 

this time, she finds herself at an end of semester mixer, entangled in a sea of rowdy university students, welcoming the trickling heat and unbridled freedom that summer brings. the last thing she remembers, she’s clutching on an all time high, a revolving door of offers to buy her a drink that it would only be rude to refuse. arms wrapped around a tall, chiseled frame sporting a kyungpook college of medicine shirt, another nameless face she temporarily mistakes as worthwhile company. she’s alone again now, perched on a flight of stairs opposite a closed takeaway place. head resting against the wall adjacent, fighting the throbbing headache that clings to her like a nightmare. how fucking pathetic.

thing is, it’s likely she’ll never learn because of a saving grace that remains constant — suh sora would always be on the opposite end of the line whenever she beckons.

there's laughter that reverberates at the sound of her best friend’s voice, never short of a witty opening line. "you know i'll send you something twice as good! my algorithm's so much better than yours," sodam quips back, giddy and teasing, lacking the bite it usually brings. the shift in his tone startles her — sobers her up, almost. quickly prompts her to sit up and assimilate to her surroundings, strobing lights and heavy footsteps all around. "kyungdae... i think?" pauses. squints her eyes to trace the arched structure standing a few miles away, blurry lines turning sharp after a double take. "yeah, i’m pretty sure it’s kyungdae… i can see the north gate from here."

he almost succeeds at it, too. he's maybe a few counts and fewer breaths from lying to himself that it's not that bad and actually believing in it, too. but then, kwon sodam speaks.

she speaks, and her voice doesn't carry that same timbre he remembers. it doesn't sound like her laugh, complimenting the sound of birds' chirping somewhere in the distance, nor like the soft susurration of the river as its boat-made wave clashes against the riverside. there is no excitement in her voice, like when she was retelling the most peculiar story, eyes wide with a genuine sparkle. no murmurs underneath his fingertips, no whispers of sweet little ohs between stifled breaths that he'd devour hungrily.

now, her voice is a poison dripped blade aimed straight through his heart.

jaewon opens his mouth, and something along the same vein sits perched atop his tongue: sure is packed here, or a comment about the carefree teenagers running amok. he's unlucky that she says it first, however, and he's left in that silence again, drowned in the heavy weight of lingering hesitation. his nails dig into the palm of his hand and he taps his foot against the metal of the floor; enough for it — the screaming nervousness — to be noticeable.

there's a smile on his face, too. except it's nothing like the smile he usually wears; rather meek, at its half-mast, offered simply due to decorum. he avoids her eyes, gaze focused onto the hair tucked behind her ear, or more appropriately, focused somewhere beyond her. "yeah. i've been here and there. you still work at… what was it? lapis?"

he knows the answer to it, having passed one another countless times, acting as strangers to one another. running away is always the simpler choice.

yet he lies so easily.

sometimes she wonders what it would be like, if only she was smarter much sooner.

sodam nods, the smile on her face intact. sweet and saccharine, the way it's wired to tend to regulars at the café. comes almost seamlessly since she's sure he's one too, which negates the statement he so easily made. (she hears the words strawberries and creme and it triggers autopilot — hands the order to whoever's had the privilege of sharing a shift with her that morning. claims she's busy handling the v60 or aeropress. it's hard, honest work she's doing.) "yeah, lapis. that's right." a breath, and a sour comment about how he should know that anyway is itching to follow — until she manages to swallow it down instead, left unsaid.

"i've been busy. covering a lot of shifts lately," and it's not completely untrue. busy, yes — spending her drawn out lunch breaks exchanging hearsay with subin, going out for friday drinks with eileen. all of which lead her to his proximity, always guaranteed to wane into their routine exchange of awkward hellos and forced smiles. gently, she shifts her weight a little to the side, rests her hand on the handle. taps a little melody with her fingertips, mimicking the one blaring outside. "you must be too, i assume?" it comes out less like a question, more so a statement. she doesn't correct herself.

the wheel stops to load more passengers on, as if the silence wasn't deafening enough. "did that appointment you mentioned go well?" she asks, knowing full well it's awfully belated. she realises that she could've offered a pointless question, one to simply keep conversation, but her own curiosity betrays herself. sodam remembers the way jaewon answered all her questions without hesitation, as out there as they can be. patient, gentle, never weary. she foolishly hopes he's still the same. "it was a pretty sketch, the one you showed me. i'm a little jealous i didn't think of it first." there's a soft giggle that glides past her lips, and it's the most earnest she's sounded all night. light, somewhat airy, like a budding spring's day by the riverside.

she thinks that maybe, just maybe, if she pretends that everything is okay, then eventually they will be too. back to where they started, and where they should be now — living blissfully as strangers, and perhaps sodam can be content with that.

Their friendship's a lot like that.

Jieun likes to think she's smart. Enough to have kept herself out of major trouble for the past 21 years, at least. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, and while Jieun isn't stupid by any means, Kwon Sodam sure makes her reckless. Over the course of their 8-month-long friendship, they've made so very many impromptu trips in pursuit of Thirteen and wasted so very much of their money she dares not check her bank account the week before payday.

There's a moment after their first comeback spent together, when they're drunk and hauling their albums back to Jieun's in recyclable bags hanging on by a thread. Sodam's complaining about her expenses for the month, and Jieun looks over and realises she can't quantify how much exactly Sodam's come to mean to her in such a short time.

It's this affection that'll be her downfall.

The blood rushing in her ears should drown it out, but Jieun swears on her life she hears the rollercoaster creaking menacingly as it makes the climb up. She thinks about the picture she'd uploaded on her Instagram just an hour before, when they'd been getting ready to ticket, and imagines how it'd look in one of those 'Moments before disaster' slideshow compilations.

"Hold my hand." It's not so much a request as it is a demand, and Jieun shoves her palm in front of Sodam's face--- an impressive feat, considering their arms are already linked. "I'm going to die, so I'm taking you with me, and our gravestones will say that we died of heartbreak because we weren't able to get encore tickets for Be The Moon, and then they'll hear about it and come visit us and fall in love with our pictures."

that's three hundred different faces with three hundred names, carrying three hundred different stories. small talk becomes second nature at her line of work, and sodam's innate curiosity often takes over to pry for more. someone just landed a new clerical job, another left theirs to move to the other side of the world. thing is, they're almost always only fragments of one's life, ones that she tries to piece together, but never becomes whole.

merely a momentary presence, never exactly... human.

for kwon sodam to stumble upon a girl at the roastery with a jeon twowoo photocard on the back of her phone, an innocent question blossoming instantly into a treasured friendship. well, that could only be explained by one thing — fate.

sodam's not one to believe in anything so foolish, but she supposes that jieun would be the soulmate she'd pray for if she was still as religious. only with jieun she'd find herself begging to some higher power, the only sealed copy of thirteen's face the moon left sitting on the shelves of wangto records in hand, eyes gleaming in anticipation. (in the end, she's smart in telling jieun to open it herself. golden hands, that girl. the saving grace behind her curse of always pulling vernoff's inclusions.)

it's a rare sight, someone like choi jieun to be this scared. sodam begins to question whether she'd suggested the right means of distraction. like a magnet pulling up to meet its pair, sodam's fingers reach out to wrap around jieun's. moves them back to rest on the safety bar, now interlocked with hers. "stop it, you'll be fine!" she snaps, head shaking in dissent. "y'know what, i can start a tip jar if all else fails and we need to buy them from scalpers. if anyone asks, i'm raising funds to visit my boyfriend in seoul." something to plan later, when they're not tied to a harness with their hearts beating out their chests.

with a final click, the roller coaster crests the hill and they find themselves head first at the edge, overlooking the crowd below. a pause. "you good?" her grip on jieun's hand tightens. in that very moment, she could feel adrenaline coursing through her veins but she doesn't close her eyes, turns to face her friend instead. "think of twowoo waiting for you at the bottom of the coaster. they're all waiting for us proudly."