fallen stars

MBTI Aesthetic Series: The INFP

There’s an unwritten method to these sorts of things, she thinks; some sort of internal checklist that predetermines if certain company is best kept or abandoned. As far as things go, Hyosung’s own is just as lax on judgment as she herself is in everyday circumstances ─ little gets under her skin and even less prove to be a definite refusal. To say the handsome stranger was on the right track wasn’t saying much of anything at all in such context, but it remains just as true; her penchant for landing in more favorable and pleasant circumstances despite how she chooses paths based solely on her whims could only be a skill unintentionally acquired by natural means.

Or perhaps it’s something best attributed to luck ─ either way, she has no intention of questioning it.

This club is one that finds her presence to be frequent enough to be familiar, though it’s the dance floor that makes her acquaintance more than the bar itself. She hasn’t kept track of how many hours she’s been out already but the amount of drinks she’s had is far less for the time; if she remembers right, there’d only been the two from the start of the night, with the thought of others crossing her mind and yet not being acted on. It’s not the first time, either, that someone’s given her an offer for more ─ there’s been plenty of that to go around, though each time was considered with even less seriousness than the last, her focus instead placed elsewhere with the ill timing.

But it’s different when it’s an offer from someone who happens to have all of her attention in the moment.

The grin that spreads is too innocuous and bright in the club’s lighting ─ it doesn’t match the aura she’d given on her miniature stage, but it’s genuine in its craft, open and accepting if not inviting in itself. That good feeling she’s picking up from him can only be classed as intuition; she’s not so much the pessimistic type, either, so the idea that she could be mistaken in that regard is brushed off before it’s so much as considered. She’s always been one to go with her feeling, after all.

If the close proximity between them bothered her in the slightest, there’s not a hint of it to be found; if anything, she leans just the slightest bit closer, just out of some desire to not mishear a thing. Her smile answers him before she gets the chance to verbally. 

“Sounds like we’re here for the same thing.” A laugh, carefree and light, accompanies the glance she throws in the direction of the bar and the few seemingly empty booths around the space. “I have all night if you do,” she’s well aware of how suggestive it might come off as, but she makes no move to change that; she’d be lying if she were to pretend that she hadn’t taken interest in him, wouldn’t she? “Any chance I could take up both offers, or are they limited time only?”

Her lips part in a inviting smile. It’s not inviting in the same sense of how her dance drew him in, not in the way he felt drawn to her before, though that hasn’t gone; it’s genuine and bright with something that feels unassuming about it that makes him warm somehow. The way she draws closer, beaming even brighter makes his heart skip, just the slightest, with a realization that, oh. She’s cute too.

Part of him almost feels as if he’s too close now, though perhaps he’s merely aware of how close he had gotten to her, but she doesn’t seem to mind it at all. He mirrors her expression, his near smirk softening into something gentler. He nearly has to tamp down some shy feeling gaining strength as something in the back of his head sighs that he’s out of his depth. Wonshik tugs back at that daring feeling that had inspired him and lets himself admire her features as she speaks.

Ah, but she went for it? he grins. There’s only a slight fleeting thought that he hopes it doesn’t come off as too excited, or that the slight flush he can feel creeping up on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the club lighting or might be passed off as exertion.

“Totally, you can -- both is good,” he says, a sheepish laugh tacked on the end of it from how disjointed the reply is. It’s spoken less confidently than he would like, nor as smooth; Wonshik wills himself to loosen in spite of it. The general atmosphere and the bass pumping through the walls help as he more easily gives a crooked grin.

He places a hand on her arm, touch solid but gentle.

“Why don’t I get you that drink then, and we can see how things go from there? ...Since we’ve got all night,” he echoes, the implications of her words carried in his own as his tone lowers.

It’s a bit easier for someone of his height to part the mass of people as he leads the way to the bar. His hand trails behind him, holding her wrist with loose fingers almost absentmindedly placed there.

With a more serious expression he gets her what he usually does when he wants to impress at this place -- it’s a dark drink that’s almost fruity, but not too sweet and goes down smoothly; strangely, it glitters, but that doesn’t seem to affect the taste or texture; under the spotty lighting, it almost looks like stars. (It’s also far, far more expensive than he’ll admit to paying for a drink.)

Wonshik slides the drink down to her with a grin.

“Hope you don’t mind I picked you somethin’ out; this is my favorite thing they offer here.”

@spacejxnk

Weekend nights are indisputably her favorites.

The deep bass of the club’s music push her hips into a comfortable sway, one that she follows with a natural and unpracticed yet experienced ease. Her body rolls in waves against the glittering pole her hand has a hold of; when she flips her head to the side, leg wrapping around the pole as she arches against it, her hair falls in a dramatic, near wild-looking fashion. This is how she lets loose, shakes away the remnants of the stress that she doesn’t allow to linger from the week; a few drinks and a selection of attractive company is good enough to meet those ends.

And amongst her company tonight, there are indeed quite the eye-catchers, as far as she’s concerned.

Some nights go uneventful in such a department ─ Hyosung isn’t one to mind such a thing, usually content in simply having fun alone in times like those ─ but not this one. If she wasn’t told any better, she’d be of the opinion that she’d come across some streak of good luck during the week; he’s managed to catch her eye in one of the moments she’d been looking out to the gradually accumulated crowd watching her spontaneous performance ─ the spark of interest was immediate, and the smile she threw his way could only attest to such even as she continues her dance until the song’s end.

Maybe she puts a bit of effort in catching his gaze in multiple instances until then, as if the performance weren’t one for the crowd but one for him instead; teeth catch lightly at her lip as she snakes her way back up to her full height from where she’d been been crouched, thighs kept together and back arching in a way she knows full well shows off the assets that she’s never been shy of putting on display in moments like this. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done such a thing ─ she always leaves her options open, but she’s never been one to give up a chase before it has a chance to truly start if she wants something (or someone, as it were) ─ but she spares no expense when the currency was her own sense of appeal. Her hands run down the slopes of her curves and back up again, until they’re raised above her head as she closes her eyes and moves in time with the beat.

Moments before the song ends, she opens them once more, allowing her gaze to search and find him again; and the smile appears once again once she does. She seems to pay little mind to the approving applause from a number of others that’d been watching once the song begins to shift into another; a hand runs through her hair as she steps away from the raised platform, hardly any interest given towards those not on her radar in the moment. Instead she has her sights set on her target, and all she can hope as she steps over to him, purposeful from the way she carries herself to the way she walks, is that he’s not off limits for some reason or another.

The thrum of people around him is comforting if anything, and the little things slip away as he loosens, following the rhythm of those around him until he’s swept up into their current, drink forgotten as he makes his way away from the bar and onto the darkened floor.

And then he’s ensnared.

Perhaps an exaggeration for how his attention has been grabbed from across the room, but it’s like his gaze has been taken hostage by the woman now making the platform her own. He’s drawn closer under the flashing club lights, somehow making his way forward through the small throng gathering to watch. He’s entranced, enraptured by the effortless sway of her hips, the nonchalance and finesse in which she owns her temporary stage -- he’d be lying if he didn’t suddenly wish he were closer to see how well that natural ease comes with a partner.

Her eyes meet his on what seems chance, but there’s something else there, directed at him, and he feels it too, a current that sends the hair on the back of his neck rising. It seems like there’s a subtle shift then -- he feels her movement as though it’s directed at him. His gaze certainly doesn’t stray -- at least, not from the platform. Wonshik tries to meet her eyes again and yet without fail his gaze wanders lower, following the lines and curves of her body as she so gracefully displays them, anything but subtle in that regard.

With the sheer confidence she flaunts her body he doesn’t think he can be blamed if he wants to follow those lines with a hand instead, or if his gaze starts to lingers too heavily when he starts to chase that train of thought. There’s nothing held back in her seemingly impromptu performance that he should mistake this for anything but being beckoned, and he’s absolutely caught, the final hook as her smile greets him again.

Wonshik is still almost surprised when she makes her way over to him. Not that he thought that smile held an empty promise -- maybe there’s just something heady in the air that makes his head spin more than it should. He doesn’t see himself as shy, by any means, but there’s still extra color on his cheeks that can’t be attributed to the drinks or the rising heat of the dancing crowd under the multicolored lights.

His tongue passes over the corner of his lips.

“I came here to drink and let loose,” he replies, a half-smile curling his mouth. He’s already drawn perhaps too close in order to be heard over the roar of the crowd. “I’ve already had a drink -- so I might be up for a few things.”

It’s a little more daring than he feels he really is but he keeps going anyway, emboldened by her interest and perhaps a bit more than he would admit by liquid courage. A hand pushes back his hair as his gaze is still appreciative, lingering.