WITH LOVE ,

seryung’s laughter feels like a remedy, acceptance embedded deep in the tintinnabulation. jinah settles here, curls up and finds a home in it. ‘i could have sworn-’ and then she’s off and jinah can only hoist her skirt up in an attempt to match the other’s pace. there is an childlike quality to this encounter that brings up memories, two girls in school uniform, laughing until their lungs are fit to burst, cigarettes in the bathroom. home before the storm. her mask glisters and glitters, fit for an angel but the true angel is the one before her in silk, and jinah feels the faintest twinge of jealousy fighting through the fog. but this feeling is quickly succeeded by her admiration for the other, so before she even realises it, she’s also throwing a slap at the wall, her own laughter joining the chorus. ‘yeah, i think so?’ jinah moves over to the closest one, jiggles the handle. no joy but the door next to it gives purchase. ‘bingo,’ she turns to the other, a devilish smile tugging at her lips. ‘after you, darling.’

——

the door squeaks open, squeezes a squeal out of seryung. excitement grips her—vice-like. and she can't wait. she never can. she loops her arm under jinah's and, like so many times before, pulls her friend into the dark. her first thought should be to find a light switch, but the thought doesn't even cross her mind. there's a single dim light illuminating the space and seryung decides it's more than enough. anyway, stumbling through the dark is usually half the fun. stumble she does—nearly tripping on something and almost taking jinah down with her. "oop—sorry," she laughs, "there's a..." she doesn't know. she doesn't try to find out. seryung lets jinah go and immediately throws herself on the silk bed. "oh..." seryung sighs, happy as a cat. "comfy." belatedly, she's hit with the thought that she might wake up with a bad case of pink eye from rubbing her face on somebody else's sheets. god knows what the bed has been through. but for the moment, she's too comfortable to care. she props her head up on her hand and looks at her friend, "what did you find?"

...

he crosses his arms atop the backrest of his chair and there is a sigh to follow, one to betray that he’s spent all morning making sure he’d gotten the recipe just right. as if to say that he’d done all of this for her. ( all to indicate that he’d dug all through the night, as he’d done every other night, and finally there’s an opening, and on the other side of that opening is unmistakeably and irrevocably im seryung. ) “for the soup, of course,” he jests, and his intentions are as thinly veiled as the pretty gold lace of her bodice, “never for me.”

sometimes, when she refuses a morning repeat of a night she can't remember, all she gets is a scarf around her neck and a cab called for her. a door slammed by someone angry, who didn't know im seryung still had the word no in her vocabulary. reassurance and soup from a friendly face is a fresh change in scenery seryung welcomes with a smile. she nods in slow-to-come understanding, trusting—if only because the alternative is too grim. she runs chipped-polish fingers through long, tangled hair, the evergreen scent of lilies, sandalwood, and her drugstore strawberry shampoo suddenly everywhere.

she can't remember much. she's not sure she wants to remember anything, anyway. he makes a joke. she thinks it's a joke. seryung laughs, the sound still rasped with sleep. "mmh... smells good." she stands besides hyunsik for a second, looking at the bowl of soup, idly tugging at his shirt. she give his forearm an affectionate scratch. "thank you," she says, grateful, as always, for the kindness of strangers. she doesn't bother him with the details. how she would stay there all day, all month, if he'd let her. how she doesn't want to face what waits for her at home.

one thing the girl is good for is a good time and jinah wears this moniker neatly. live fast, die young and beautiful. the city draped in the trappings of night feels like home because only monsters, not men, come out at then. this is a cruel elegy. but liken it to why it’s so difficult to prise one’s eyes from a car crash; there’s something devastatingly beautiful about the wreck. it is so when seryung places the shots before her, she only succumbs to the lull of sweet destruction. ‘salud!’ she takes one down for the vibe, another for the bliss, one more because tomorrow is never promised. fuck, i really should stop here, that inner voice, feeble in its volume is redundant. tonight, well, tonight jinah’s embracing hell.

the amalgamation of molly & tequila sends her world on an orbit but seryung’s proposition brings her back to earth. ‘babe, is that even a question?’ jinah rises out of her seat, holding her hand out to the other. ‘c’mon.’ and like that they’re weaving through the tangle of bodies where dance floor meets luxury carpet and luxury carpet meets stairs. upon a marble landing, jinah’s heels sound like gunfire. she’s certain she’s gotten them lost so she looks to seryung for an answer. ‘okay, admittedly, i was winging it. i don’t know where the fuck we are, do you?’

——

walking into the dark, getting lost in it. her head somewhere else while she crosses the sticky floors of cloud nine. jinah close by, always within reach, like an anchor sinking as fast as her. this all feels very ten years ago. this feels exactly like what seryung needs. (not that she would know.) she shakes her head rapidly, makes herself a little dizzy. "no!" she laughs, her tone of voice tilted and hard to understand. like she's answering the question or telling her friend not to be so hard on herself. "this has to be it, right? i mean..." she starts on the stairs, half-heartedly cautious. her carefulness fading fast. "you're a genius, ji. i never would have seen this place." it gets darker, warmer. seryung starts running, like she was born in five-inch stilettos. she nearly trips when she reaches the landing, but the wall catches her. "ow," she laughs. "sorry," she says to the wall, patting it apologetically. she squints into the near distance, blindly reaching her hand sideways to hold jinah's. "i think—" seryung tucks her hair behind her ear, "those look like doors, kind of... right?"

unusually true to her word, seryung returns about ten minutes later. expertly balancing six shot glasses in between perfectly manicured fingers, shoulders bare. she sets the glasses down on the table, smiling from ear to ear. like she hasn't noticed she's now lighter by about sixteen-million-won's worth of fine leather. where the coat she left with went is anybody’s guess. she sits beside jinah, raises a glass in cheers. "salud!" she grins. clinks, drinks. "mmh," seryung puckers her lips, holding her hand in front of her mouth for a second. “oh—!“ she taps jinah’s knee. "a guy at the bar said something about private rooms," seryung tells her, just a little past pleasantly buzzed. maybe already drunk. she leaves out the part where he paid for their drinks. ("come down to the private rooms with me," the man smarmed. seryung let him put a hand on her thigh, and winked, "i'm not drunk enough yet. but i'm willing to be.") a giggle bubbles out of her. "i don't know if he meant like a bathroom stall or if there actually are—" there's a blinding twinkle in her eye, "have you heard anything? should we go look?"

event plot call ! ! so excited to see what plots we stir up, like or msg to plot. i'll be prioritizing event threads & replies will be short n quick (famous last words) plot ideas under the cut xx

summary : seryung arrives late with no intention to stay, a coat hurriedly thrown over a slip she’d been wearing all day. in a mask borrowed from someone in line outside, she pops in to leave her gift for aera on the designated table, but ends up staying well into the morning.

𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 & — st.

seryung arrives late with no intention to stay, a coat hurriedly thrown over a slip she'd been wearing all day. in a mask borrowed from someone in line outside, she pops in to leave her gift for aera on the designated table, but ends up staying well into the morning.

...

"it's true, though." he utters so tenderly it came off a whisper. he leans in towards her, closer than they should be, at least in public. their newfound proximity sets his heart racing in a way he's forgotten it was capable of. their eyes locked onto each other, darting away only to steal glances at the other's lips. it's clear what she wanted. it's clear what he wanted. "do you really? just want to be friends, i mean."

he contemplates plucking the cherry blossom out of her hair and setting it off to the wind. he knows if he had to look at her like that just a second longer, he'd do the unthinkable. he runs his fingers through her messy tresses (only she would look this good without trying), but instead of doing what he had set out to do, he leans in and presses his lips against hers. her lips are just as soft as he remembers, melting into his like she was made for him. and maybe she was, but only god knows the answer to that.

jaerim's hands are just as warm and gentle as they have always been. his lips are just as soft as all the times seryung kissed him. she expects this to feel so much like coming home, like going back in time to ten years ago. so, when she finds herself propelled forward instead, feeling more in the future than in the past, she has to pull away and take a breath. in that half-second between pulling away from him and leaning back into him, a million thoughts rush through seryung's mind.

mostly, she thinks about how new he is. it makes her both sad and excited. in her heart of hearts, she knows that she wouldn't like him as much if he had changed too much; she wouldn't like him enough if he had become too different. mostly, she thinks about how everything that could have possibly gone wrong between them already has. mostly, she wonders if making the same mistakes this time will make it stick this time.

mostly, she struggles to think of their mistakes as mistakes. maybe seryung should feel more regret, more sorrow. but though that buried memory weighs heavy in her mind on some inescapable nights, for a lot of the time she thinks about it, if she doesn't feel grateful, she feels hopeful. the truth is, seryung hasn't fully come to grips with all that transpired. and in all her time away from jaerim, she could scarcely avoid worrying about him, thinking about what he could have possibly been thinking, wondering if they were ever thinking the same thing. turns out you can leave someone, but wherever you go, you take your memories of them with you. but now, near to him, feeling safe as a baby-bird in his grounding presence, seryung gets the strangest, warmest feeling in her chest. it feels like something she has chased for most of her life—feels like a wound slowly, painstakingly, healing.

for a moment, she fears that feeling will leave with him, so she kisses him again. seryung puts her arms around jaerim's neck like they belong there. she touches her lips to his once more. her eyes flutter close as she presses closer. tears well up behind seryung's eyes. of course, they have the grace not to fall.

her hands rest on his shoulders when they part again. this time, she stays away long enough to look at him—really look at him. her dreamy eyes shine softly like how they would look printed on a glossy magazine. breathing suddenly feels so easy. seryung wants to talk to him.

she smiles, her happiness delicate but daring, touching her thumb to his bottom lip, her eyes never straying from him. she always liked to hold his face in her hands like that. just as she used to, seryung gets so caught up in him, she all but forgets the rest of the world. she wants to talk to him. maybe later, tomorrow morning. she wants to kiss him again. maybe later, that night.

im seryung life update post-gg blast — not so new and not so improved ! new wcs under the cut also. shoot me a msg if any catch your eye ♡

gg post was so bad it had her mom and stepdad pulling strings with authorities so she wouldn't be brought in/arraigned/etcetera

radio silence for about a week or so. no movement on social media or sightings at all. on mom-mandated house arrest at her parents' place so she doesn't leave until she's told. stepdad's out of the country on business. mom stays behind to lecture her really badly but also to bring in professional management/pr for her because up until then seryung only had a PicsaRt team that consisted of just her. pr team gets to work immediately and feeds gg something big on someone else which pulls attention away after 3 days

the move is pretend it never happened and distract the gp with a shiny thing so when seryung comes out, the memory of her gg post is already quite faded. her hair's lighter, her makeup's different, she's lost weight. pr team has a lot riding on the gp being impressed by how good she looks and for the most part it works.

she's doing an ad campaign and seen out and about with big celebs minjun and saerom so that's even more perfume sprayed over the shitstorm that was that scalding gg post

labeled a socialite now instead of an influencer and they really play into how her family is big money. while a lot of her old sponsors dropped her, mostly smaller local brands from deals she worked on herself, she's now started to get picked up by bigger brands, no small thanks to a pr team, bribery, nepotism and a lot of gratuitous hair flipping.

future jump to around mid-may. most recently seen toting an orange loewe puzzle hobo in a sponsored post, prompting rumors of a lvmh deal. local stocks sold out the next day.

overall her reputation with the public is, in a word, better. pr team goal was to make her less accessible so people felt less inclined or even scared to spread rumors or judge her, and for the most part it works. in private, she's spending most of her time at home. her management controls where she goes a lot for now, until the scandal truly blows over, which she hates but she will do it if her mom will stop looking at her like she's the worst thing she ever did.

...

anyway, the elevator dings.

“no tour yet. i was saving it for you, actually. i was gonna ask if you wanted to go on the cable car with me.” yoojung says, and he moves in closer to her when she comes closer to him. what’s he doing with seryung? it’s like their own, little dance, orchestrated by cues only the other recognizes. gentle, water reaching shore type of symmetry. what’s he doing with seryung? he’s letting her leave the building first so he can walk behind her when they’re in the hotel’s garage and he’s opening the passenger door for her. 

“i thought it’d be better later at night, you know.” he looks at her once he’s shouldered into the driver’s seat. “less people, more privacy. i miss you, so.” he looks at the steering wheel, licks over his bottom lip lightly, contemplating. “i wanted to get a chance to talk to you. just us. without it,” he gestures again, “destroying our lives in arial font. i thought maybe we could get dinner and check it out?” he winks. “i need to spend some time with you, at least.”

he's generous enough that she gets what she needs, and selfish enough that she doesn't feel bad taking up his time. he's selfish enough that she gets what she needs, and generous enough that she doesn't feel bad taking up his time. all her thoughts about yoojung turn round and round and round in her mind, taking up every square inch of real estate and leaving no room for rational thought. how she wants yoojung to take her right there in that elevator, every single thought makes perfect sense every which way. and the intrusive thought to jam her finger into the emergency button, so they can get so wonderfully stuck together and do everything they could do, is starting to win when come that fateful ding.

seryung steps out, suddenly breathless, and realizes her lungs have sat in her ribcage completely useless for the past three floors. then, she realizes she hasn't said anything. she doesn't want yoojung to think she's rude—she really doesn't think she can afford to give him one more reason to think another bad thing about her, she already skipped defending him in the eyes of the law—so she links her arms with his until the time comes to part at the passenger door.

she doesn't expect his declarations from the driver's seat, but she receives them with a manner unique to someone who has been thrown flowers all her life without ever having to ask for them. happy without going over the moon, grateful without knowing debt, blushing but not flustered. it's clear that she's easily pleased but it will take more than words to truly satisfy her.

seryung catches herself staring at yoojung's lips. there, in the dark of the parking lot, all alone in his car, time feels slowed. she lifts her gaze to meet his, lashes fluttering. "you miss me?" she repeats the words she hears the loudest. needy the way she says it, easy the way she turns it into teasing when she fastens her wind-chime laugh at the end of the question. with her, guys think everything is better at night—they usually only mean one thing. he might be no different, but she pushes that sad thought to the furthest reaches of her mind. yoojung is one of the best people she knows. he likes her. he wants to spend time with her. he misses her. he wouldn't lie to her. a faded thought breezes through her mind, the faintest whisper of wind—why would he lie?

...

she almost barks at the driver to stop once when she picks up the sight of the woman leaving her loft building, pushing herself out and authority punctuating every step she takes towards her. there's no hey how are you as she approaches, expression deadpan with an almost lethal undertone to it. "whatever you've got going on right now should wait," shiah announces, crossing her hands underneath her chest as she blocks seryung's way, "we need to talk. now."

❀❀❀

the more evergreen her reputation proves, the less appealing turning over a new leaf becomes. it's disheartening trying to leave her sordid past behind when it seems to be all people see when they look at her. and with gossipgirl hellbent on not letting everyone forget, changing for the better is a leap of faith seryung struggles to find reasons to take. her rehab-sanctioned therapist once told her that people don't change unless they want it for themselves. seryung doesn't know if she believes that. she has wanted to get out of her dark, confusing cycle of looking for the bottom of every bottle for as long as she can remember. but the one thing that has always stopped her, like a shadow haunting her every decision, is the thought that people might not like what they see when they look at her and she's not dancing on top of a table or laughing at all their jokes. seryung wants to change. she just doesn't know if everyone else wants that for her. (at least, that's what she tells herself. it certainly helps her sleep at night.)

shiah is what the devil on seryung's shoulder might call collateral damage. an unfortunate accident on the way to being the fun, up-for-anything party girl everyone loves. an unwilling sacrifice to the gods of unhealthy coping mechanisms and unchecked alcoholism, so seryung can go on pretending like nothing's wrong. the angel on her other shoulder scolds her for whatever she's done to make shiah so upset. tells her shiah is her friend, who has been nothing but good to her. reminds her to return any kindness she's given, that shiah has given her plenty. seryung listens to the angel before the devil can advocate for a different course of action, something that will sound so much better than the right thing, and inevitably end in a burned bridge and another lost friend.

seryung hasn't said a word but she already feels like she has said something wrong. she walks that landmine of conversation she has walked so many times, with what seems like more attention than ever before. "shiah," concern floods her eyes when she looks at her friend, every letter of her name said with affection so uncharacteristically careful. "why? what's wrong?" she asks, mirroring shiah's urgency almost exactly, like she would turn day to night right then and there if that's what it takes to solve her problem. seryung fights down a rising panic that shiah is mad at her for something she can't fix, that she has—once again—done something she can't take back.

for a second, as she turns her eyes downcast, her lashes flutter so quickly that her bright brown eyes appear like two strobing lights. when she looks up again, those same eyes reflect so much sun that they look like a pair of shattered crystals. her eyes so sad despite her smile, it becomes so easy to imagine she's frowning with a quivering lip, instead. (she has always lent herself so easily to the imagination.) "i'm always scared that the people i love will leave. and i'm scared that there's something wrong with me... something i can't change that makes them want to leave me. ... i never know how to make them come back." and worst of all—this one she has to take a big breath in to breathe out—"i'm scared of the people i love not wanting me anymore."

...

he doesn't move, doesn't let go of her hand. it's the one thing he'd give himself, for holding back on everything else he wants to do. "you're a good daughter, though. i see how you are around her and i can tell that you're her rock." he gently strokes her hand in his, his grin softening into a smile laced with pride. "you're very important to her." as you are, to me.

he talks of ten years ago and that's exactly what it feels like. he's looking at her and she can feel her heart thump inside her chest. he's holding her hand and it feels so much like a promise. she can't tell if this is something new or if this is all just muscle memory.

"and you're still a sweet talker," she accuses laughingly. his smile is so warm, it makes her wonder what it might feel like on her own lips. "and handsome," she returns the compliment easily, "and..." she trails off, loses her train of thought completely when she accidentally drops her gaze and finds it on his mouth. it would be so easy to just lean forward and— "jaerim..." she breathes, doesn't mean to sound so needy.

"really, though, i mean it," she says abruptly, "i'm really happy we're still friends." every syllable bearing load, heavy with the weight of so much history and so many broken promises and so many more promises left to keep. she wants to keep things easy and light and fun, but she's struggling. the closer she gets to him the more she wants him and she's thinking of ten years ago. this is exactly what it felt like.