sentence meme – accepting!

It was one of those days when she tried to take things seriously. She'd put on a much conservative outfit, took the time to put her hair in a half pony, and actually matched her socks. She even sent her parents a text this morning. A good morning text. She actually got up and the sun was in the sky being sunny and all. It was a perfect day to do things right.

And now here's Wonjae making all that seem pointless.

Midori swore she wasn't going to. Not today. But Kang Wonjae was such an easy target that it hurts. It was too easy, and too irresistable, "Babe, you got dressed all by yourself? That is amazing, no wonder you're not that single anymore. We should throw you a party, no, better yet, let's buy a cake."

london chuckles quietly, the corner of her lips raised in a small smirk, unlit cigarette held between two fingers, ready to be held between her lips. 

it’s all still very vivid, even hours later; an ironic turn of events saw the bartender himself falling drunk, somewhere between the live act’s fifth and sixth song of the night. london can still remember the way wonjae had tried to climb over the bar, almost knocking over a row of alcohol, and her hoodie still smells like the mojito she’d spat out in her surprise. 

she still remembers, briefly, the sharp pain in her ear, many thanks to wonjae’s incessant yelling over the music as she tried to pull him away from the stage, trying to calm him down in between bouts of laughter, because it didn’t matter how convinced he was, she was at least eighty-five percent sure he could not sing a better cover of paramore’s misery business than the band. 

by some stroke of lucky, or some miracle from the gods themselves, london was eventually able to drag him out of the bar, and it was all too entertaining, the way wonjae sat in the back of a taxi, mercilessly screaming out lyrics in broken english to an already-annoyed taxi driver. 

and now, here she sits, at the foot of his bed, already feeling the laughter starting to resurface all over again. 

“boy, have i got a story for you.”

ice cubes collide in her glass when danbi abruptly stops, drink halfway to her lips. an eyebrow arches, analysing eyes shifting up, down, and up again, lips pursed. she knows nothing about this bartender, so best friend brutally honest? danbi can do that, sans the best friend sentiment. 

( danbi doesn’t do ‘best friends’. period. ) 

“what’s it matter,” she asks, eyes narrowing briefly to glare at the boy’s nametag. “wonjae. you’re out of the fucking house already. you’re out in public with that dry-ass shrub you call hair whether you like it or not.” 

danbi scoffs, bringing her glass back to her lips, lets amber disappear with a quick sip. 

“how old are you anyway? you look like a damn twelve year old. didn’t know we’d changed the rule about minors serving alcohol.”

sentence meme // accepting

“wonjae, i know you’ve never seen me naked so you wouldn’t know but I don’t have balls.”

a draft of beer sits before her, collecting beads of condensation that roll down and leave a small puddle where a coaster ought to be. she props her head up and looks wonjae squarely in the face with a look that’s barely bemused.

“anyways zero times ten is still zero so i guess you’re saying my self-esteem is in the dumps again. i agree.” 

fingers grasp the draft glass and she eyes her drink carefully before bringing it to her lips and taking a bigger gulp than she ought too. what an apathetic sight for sore eyes she must be.