#henryac

she wiggles her toes just to know if she still can.

it’s tapering off now, the feeling past consciousness but not yet at the beyond. the world’s not rushing anymore; just buzzing, softly, shuttering in and out like the slow beat of a heart. a pleasing afterglow feeling that washes over her in waves as she sits outside the venue watching her feet curl.

somehow, she’d gracelessly stuttered her way into an escort home, in the form of a henry kang, suit and tie version. it hadn’t been her intention ― really. she’d expected a dance, or two; light-hearted banter; for them to see each other outside of their usual haggard, fluorescent selves. she’d never expected anything more. but she’s also dizzy with wine and hadn’t accounted for his generosity ― she couldn’t very well bluff and tell him she was fine when she’d stepped on his toes more often that she had fingers on both hands.

so here she is, waiting outside, warm enough to brave the february night alone, amusing herself until henry decides to meet her. when she sees his face gleam in the moonlight from the darkness, she bares pearl teeth in a wide, open grin. “yaaaaah, kang henry!” her voice is bright, like a patch of sun on a gloomy day. shooting up, she realizes too late she’s moved too fast for her bones to follow; stumbles forward a little but sticks the landing ( barely ). “okay, i’m okay. these things aren’t like skates, but i’ll manage.”

she’s still grinning that sunlight smile when she holds out an arm for him to take. “let’s go go! time’s a-wastin’ ― any more dawdling and i’ll start remembering it’s too cold for just this jacket, even if it is nice and warm on the inside.” 

“‘really cool stuff’, huh,” she repeats with a flourish. it’s quaint — cute, even, how henry’s so excited for some patched-together offshoot of a formal social gala. yena’s used to them now: grand splendour and blinding opulence and a dress so beautiful and unyielding she’s hesitant to even breathe. whatever rosy thoughts she’s had about the meetings of the upper echelons of society have dissipated now, replaced by her boredom, her displeasure, and a copious amount of white wine before the party even starts.

but his excitement is tangible, sweet and honeyed on her tongue.

she doesn’t want to ruin him.

and anyway, she’s son yena — she’ll try anything once. “you make a convincing argument, henry,” she starts, body shifting her weight from one foot to the other, moving through the motions of the lazy stretches she’s been doing for the past few minutes. “though i wouldn’t mention your personal hand at planning; i think that detracts from the excitement more than you think.” wide grin and smiling eyes lets him know she’s jesting; she knows henry only sparingly, but it’s obvious he isn’t the type to let things fall to the wayside. maybe, if he’s planning it, it actually will be fun.

❤ | accepting!

Henry!

You are literally the big brother that I’ve always wanted and I love our friendship! I am so glad that I feel flat on my face that day or else we probably would have not been friends.

I love the pggybacks you give me without any questions and the derp faces we send  each other. You are somone that I love to have in my life and thanks for help this smol bean that day when i feel down on my face.

Smol Bean

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