#m.eme!

she doesn’t realize that she’s dozed off until it happens. they’d been sitting on iljoon’s couch, playing some movie that the male had been uncharacteristically eager to watch. iljoon was never one to be so jubilant about anything in all the years she’d known him, but he’d been raving about seeing this particular film with such joy in his eyes that yoona couldn’t have said no even if she wanted to ( and she wanted to, so badly ). so she’d agreed on the condition that he order in chicken and provide her with some cass lights, and he’d accepted in a heartbeat.

he’d given her approximately thirty seconds after her arrival at his apartment before his fingers had pressed the ‘play’ button and the movie had started. so she’d hustled to the couch, where he had already made himself comfortable, and was barely able to open a can of beer before the opening credits rolled in on his tv.

and she’d tried hard – she really had. but it was sci-fi ( “boys,” she’d thought to herself ), and the chicken was so warm, and the beer was making her drowsy, and it had been a long, tiring day.

she falls asleep midway, head lolling on the cushion of his couch.

she doesn’t know how she’s come to rest nestled by iljoon’s side. it’s apparent that he doesn’t really know either, too absorbed in whatever the hell is going on in that awful movie to have noticed her sleeping form inch closer. his hand is running through her hair mindlessly, eyes trained on the screen, and she eyes him for a little bit to try and get him to notice what he’s doing ( he doesn’t; he’s really invested ).

yet for the life of her, yoona could not care less. she knows she’s a sight to behold at the current time – her in all of her youthful glory, exuding jubilance from every crevice of her being. a cheshire-cat grin covers nearly the entire expanse of her visage, eyes overflowing with mirth, with victory. and she’s dancing around in circles like a madwoman, chanting loudly and vigorously, whooping and hollering and twirling her feet around in endless laps around jiyong’s person.

“doesn’t matter– whoa!” her singsong is cut off when she nearly slips on the fast-growing puddle of banana milk on the floor. banana milk that, until five seconds ago, had been contained in a carton in jiyong’s hands.

the challenge, imposed on herself by herself, had been going on for a while now. she’d try endlessly to rile up her foe, but jiyong had remained an impenetrable mask devoid of all emotion for weeks now, despite all her carefully laid out ploys. and then she’d stumbled across him just now, loitering around the hallway with aforementioned milk carton in his hand. and then she’d just done it.

tipped it right over onto his shirt, spilling the contents everywhere.

and she got to see jiyong’s brows furrow in confusion, his mouth dip open in dismay, his nostrils flare in anger. and then she’d screamed, because she’d won! she’d gotten the robot to feel!

so excuse her if she’s making a scene of herself in her uniform and ruining the janitors’ hard work; she’s gone down in history!

the statement is laughable, really.

with an offhand eye-roll and tilt of her head, yoona brushes off the barbed words, the cutting way the other girl is looking at her person – as if she’s barely a step up from the dirt and grime covering her six-inch, killer heels. she’s tall enough to look the other girl straight in the eye. they’re wearing identical frowns, etched deep into their faces; the anonymous woman’s is decidedly sour, but yoona’s is just bemused.

“of course it’s my business. i’m a girl, you’re a girl. doesn’t take more than that to wonder why you’d willingly subject yourself to this torrent of rain when all you’re wearing is a white shirt.”

when all the other girl does is sullenly trail her gaze towards the ground, yoona heaves a sigh of frustration.

yoona has the decency to blush upon the girl’s quip about her overt staring. cheeks bloom like pink roses and the tips of her ears start to match the maroon blouse that drapes over her shoulders. she lets out a faltering laugh – short, awkward, forced out – that dies as she is caught in lilah’s razor-sharp gaze.

“i’m sorry, really, i don’t mean to–” she blurts out with near incoherence, her tongue uncooperative in her haste to explain herself. “it’s just that– i mean– well–”

she sighs in frustration at her inability to form sentences at so crucial a time. the girl across from her looks thoroughly unimpressed now.

“yeah, well, you better get your eyes checked because i’m flat as a board, so ha, joke’s on you,” yoona retorts without so much as a blink. her words are cutting and precise, and she chortles in silent satisfaction when the offender in front of her looks taken aback by her comment. peering over her shoulder, she gives him a look totally void of emotion – stares at him just enough to let uneasiness, awkwardness, start to creep into his face.

“and anyway, i’m sure your other head doesn’t mind my supposedly big butt. the bulge never lies,” she quips, smirking widely, darting her gaze downwards for just a second.

she’s lying through her teeth – he’s probably not turned on at all – but it’s funny to see his eyes widen and his head swivel downwards in panic regardless.

yoona directs a dull, utterly unimpressed look towards the girl in front of her.

“really, sooyeon? really? i’ve known you for six years, you asshat. you can’t just keep doing this to me because i slipped up one time, four years ago. let’s be like elsa and let it the fuck go already.”

seriously. she reiterated the line every single time they met up– if there was one thing she’d come to understand about jung sooyeon, it was that the girl held one hell of a grudge. so what if she’d approached yoona one day when they had scheduled to meet up, and instead of greeting her with a hello, yoona had slipped up and asked who in the world she was instead.

4am.

it was four fucking am.

“it’s four fucking am, lee jongsuk you complete dildo!” yoona whisper-yells, eyebrows knitted together in her ire, lips pulled back from her teeth in a vexed snarl. she brings a slender hand up towards red-rimmed, sleep-filled eyes, trying in vain to clear her head from the lingering drowsiness.

all throughout, jongsuk is still belting out t.o.p’s rap ( the guy isn’t even that good a rapper for god’s sake, and his slurring is just making it even more pathetic ). his voice is pitching even higher now; soon, he’ll start to attract her pesky neighbors, and there would be so many – too many – questions.

she eyes the sorry state of the man in front of her with an unimpressed gaze. shirt untucked, ivory cheeks blazing red – he was practically glowing, really – cherry mouth tilted in a lopsided grin. his eyes were glossy, gleaming with the haze of too much spirits consumed. he directs his gaze at her, she can see him try to pull out his goddamn ‘blue steel’ rip-off – he hiccups.

she is so unimpressed right now it’s not even a joke.

she debates just leaving him outside. she really does.

( ‘SILVER’s lee jongsuk found passed out in front of anonymous woman’s door’, the headlines are going to scream. and then the fans are going to murder her for not taking care of their precious little prince. )

< sms : unknown number >

yes, well

i want 20 billion dollars and my own island

but sometimes we have to live with crushing disappointments

also maybe you’ve mistaken me for pizza pizza?