game theory.
this isn’t what she thinks is going to happen when she sees him again.
she does not know what she expected. rapid fire, maybe; certainly something volatile: a gunpowder feeling tangible on her tongue, in her chest. an otherworldly tempestuous fury, perhaps, manifesting in a torrent of words and her knuckles. with how she’s been feeling as of late -- with how everything had ended -- she’d expected bruising, blacks and blues, a moment where time stops and their gazes lock and her eyes shine with a ferocity.
but all jiyeon gets is a subtle hitch in her throat and a mild sensation of discomfort. no earth-shaking ire; no war or annihilation, and the clock keeps ticking onwards.
it’s a shame; these days, kim taehyung in her dictionary is synonymous with ‘punch him in his goddamn face’. yet it’s been so long since she’s really seen him up close that she’s already forgotten the way his hair falls over his forehead and the way the dimples at the corner of his lips are so deep he always seems poised to smile.
or maybe she’s just being sentimental over a boy she’s never known.
she takes the glass gratefully, sips imported beer foam before it tips over to her fingers; smiles with all her teeth and greets the birthday boy, their mutual friend, with a one-armed hug and her promise to have fun tonight (even though she’s already sworn an oath to her father to be home before the night really starts). and it’s alright for a while -- her, on one side, sipping an ipa, and him some distance away. but then the night goes on and space gets tighter and suddenly jiyeon is five feet away from him with no visible route out. “um,” it leaves her lips before she can stop it -- hastily, she follows up. “do you want another beer, or something?”
lungs contracting, discomfort spreading. there’s a feeling now. jiyeon turns her shoulders away, does not face him deliberately.
“your hair looks different. it’s nice. i- yeah.”
@hsxtaehyung : november ‘16.
