#acjinah

4: Forehead Kiss 

london is very drunk and very sleepy. 

giggles periodically slip out of her as the same recurring thought enters her head:

                      her parents would kill her if they knew what she was doing. 

she’s reaching out for her next can of beer, the chatter surrounding her melting into one, almost monotonous, hum of sound that is somewhat irritating, but easier to ignore than she’d initially thought. alcohol, much to her surprise, doesn’t seem to be as bad as everyone makes it out to be. 

the can cracks open with a satisfying hiss, froth quick to bubble up and rise close to the surface. tomorrow’s run is going to be hell and a half, but right now, london couldn’t care less. the sound of crunching gravel beneath her sneakers and rhythmic breaths is almost completely forgotten in favour of blinking away little starbursts that cloud her vision as the lights in the room blur into streaks of different shades of yellow. she likes this. she’s happy she said yes to going out with jinah, and let her friend pull her away from the drumsticks and closer to the music that she can just listen to without much thought. she might be going crazy, but she almost swears she can feel the music in her fingertips. 

(it’s probably just the alcohol talking.) 

lo? you okay? 

london can feel jinah’s slender fingers wrap around her wrist, can feel her friend’s laughter fill her ears at how gone she must look. she giggles, and giggles, and nods her head. 

“yeah, jinnie unnie. i’m good. i’m really good.” she takes a sip of beer, humming along along to a song she’s only heard for the first time tonight, head resting comfortably on jinah’s shoulder. “thanks for taking me out tonight.” 

she was aiming for her cheek, but jinah lowers her head in the hopes of hearing london a little better, so her kiss lands on jinah’s forehead. giggles tumble out of her once more. 

RANDOM KISS ASKBOX MEME : currently closed !     ↪ number eleven – collarbone kiss.

     °☆.。.:* — THIS is why junhwan never takes the bus.

especially today out of all days, junhwan finds it mildly irritating because people are pushing and shoving at all different angles; all because the bus is slightly overcrowded and there’s only one seat open out of the entire fifty minute bus ride, and junhwan didn’t even want to take the bus in the first place but jinah promised him the best coffee on the other side of town and junhwan’s always been a sucker for coffee on the rare occasions that he’s not buying it for other people.

despite the constant elbow to his ribs from the jerk on his left side and getting absolutely no help from jinah who’s smirking in an unsettling way him on his right, junhwan just really, really wants to get off the bus.

( and that’s only five minutes in. )

so junhwan takes a nap because it’s the best thing to do in a situation like this and junhwan likes to stay positive, he really does, so with one of jinah’s earbuds plugging into his ears, junhwan feels his eyelids fluttering shut and he’s slowly falling –– falling until his head rests upon her shoulder and for once, junhwan finally gets comfortable on that stupid bus.

and then, he suddenly gets a little too comfortable.

he blames it on the fact that he’s half asleep or the fact that the stranger is still elbowing him after several minutes of riding the bus as junhwan shifts towards the right, turning his head away from the disturbance and his lips briefly make contact with skin because –– did he just kiss her collarbone? junhwan’s eyes widen open before sitting straight up in alarm while a certain blush begins to bloom heavily on his cheeks.

0117.

she can’t breathe just yet.

breathing will disrupt the balance - but of what, she finds herself grasping for. the e.r. waiting room is certainly spinning; her knuckles are taut and white against the chair’s arms but she still feels like she’s slipping, moving against her accord. maybe it’s the fengshui she’ll disturb, and her exhale will cause a tidal wave of discordance that wouldn’t bode well for the fragile harmony in the operating rooms.

maybe, if she breathes, she’ll fall apart. 

it’s the most likely possibility.

jinah’s mother had called her some minutes ago, voice as tremulous as she felt. we’re almost there, is she okay, is she safe. is she alive, she’s asking between the lines; that answer, the one she needs, doyeon couldn’t give. part of her feels responsible, irrationally so - it’s not her fault jinah’d gone to busan, or crossed without looking, or didn’t slow down when doyeon had told her to stop.

but. there was that thought, endless in her mind, growing like her shadow on the clean, white walls.

could she have done anything else?

jinah would say no; jinah would be adamant. but she’s ahn doyeon, and in the end there’s this: that everything is ahn doyeon’s fault.

it’s the most likely possibility.

she breathes out in 3, 2, 1 - “are you here for a jeon jinah?”

.

jinah is groggy and aching and her heart feels detached from her body, but even she is brought into consciousness by the flurry of a girl that enters her bedroom as soon as she’s allowed to sit up. it’s all she can do to keep herself from falling back by the sheer force.

doyeon’s lips taste like salt and sorrow, cement on her own.

“you’re alive,” she says after.

she didn’t know she needed that answer, too.

HONESTY EMOJI ASKBOX MEME : currently open !

     °☆.。.:* — JUNHWAN freezes slightly at the question as he begins to look down in hopes to buy himself some time to think what would be an appropriate answer. he knows about the strange rumor that’s floating around how he only buys coffee for people he likes ... which isn’t honestly wrong. it was just odd that people understood his habits so quickly.

( he takes a deep breath and tells the truth and nothing but the truth. )

“i buy coffee for mr. geum every morning,” junhwan manages to squeak out before letting out a small grin in reply, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal that he’s buying his teacher coffee everyday. “it started this year and ... i dun’ know. he just looks like he really needed it, you know?”

he pauses for a brief moment while smoothing out the fabric of his jeans in thought.

she tells stories with the palms of her hands.

the cleanness of the hospital is unsettling ― but one that she’s grown accustomed to. it reminds her of her father, with his too-thin limbs and the cavernous lines on his face. between her father and, now, jinah, she’s spent so much of her time in seoul on medical ground it almost seems more like home than her room in her aunt’s tiny abode.

this time, she’s here for jinah.

she’s been malcontent lately, jinah has. swift to vex, difficult to soothe. even jinah’s singing has been choleric lately, gravel-toned and raw and aching with a feeling she can’t quite place. it’s been harder, even for herself, to cope with this new side of her closest friend, but doyeon knows that this isn’t about her specifically; there’d been nothing she’d done wrong, nothing she’d done right.

it had been busan that changed jinah, and doyeon likes to think that if she sticks around, it’ll be busan ( her, her and her busan roots and haeundae-sun smile ) to bring jinah back.

that’s why she’s sitting on a cold metal stool beside jinah and her doctor, pen scratching over her friend’s newly re-minted cast and waiting for the appointment to finish up. she decides that theme for this canvas is space cowboy, and is just finishing shading a startlingly accurate cartoon version of taeil when there’s a flurry of movement and the doctor leaves the room. “done?” she asks just to affirm the obvious. “he really gave you an earful, didn’t he?” it’s with routine ease that she slings jinah’s backpack over her own shoulder as they begin their walk out.