#principalles

taeyang has never prided himself on being - aware of most things. that’s why it took him so long to realize he wasn’t the only one stumbling over words and feelings when it as him and hyunshik. that’s why others find it so endearing and so frustrating to watch some of his interactions. it’s also why his sister’s grown so incredibly protective of him, despite the fact that he helps others for a living.

he’s observational where it matters, though the nature of his powers often causes him trouble. it’s not something he talks about and it’s never been something he’s had to address. he’s thought about it, contemplated how to explain it to hyunshik and if it would matter if he did. the fact is that hyunshik has observed and learned all of the side effects in taeyang’s personality that his powers cause and he’s said nothing about it. rather, he’s come to enjoy being around those parts of him, so taeyang has reserved to letting them stay what they are. a personality trait and nothing more.

spacing out. constant fatigue. the droopy look in his eyes. daydreaming.

the more time they spend together and the more taeyang’s space becomes filled with hyunshik, the more the edges start to blur, the more comfortable he gets. hyunshik’s never asked him why in the beginning he didn’t sleep in his room, nor did the man ask him why he always found himself up late at night, why he’s always tired despite always sleeping through bits of the day. hyunshik’s not a man who pries and taeyang appreciates it, even if he knows the man is just questioning and sifting through possibilities and rationalities on his own. it’s not enough to drive him away, so taeyang is content.

that’s why, when he does get a question, he’s not fully prepared for it. it’s a question, without nothing too serious underneath it. just general curiosity, as most questions tend to be. it’s a question that comes with the peak of morning through the cafe blinds. it comes with the brushing of a hand - taeyang usually the more bold one when they’re at hyunshik’s workplace. but there’s his hand, brushing taeyang’s hair out his face, regarding him with a look that takes a few seconds to process. that fact is exactly where the question had come from.

‘you look faraway sometimes.’

a question and a statement actually. it’s gentle, not too prying but the answer itself has so many things tucked away in it, tat it still feels a little invasive. invasive in that - when taeyang is used to this phrasing, this question, it always follow some sort of criticism. some sort of dig into who he is and what he can’t control and people couldn’t understand. he bristles, only for a few seconds because he remembers this is hyunshik. hyunshik’s whose words can be sharp but have never been anything but mellow and gentle when they cross him. crass maybe, honest but still gentler than most would realize. hyunshik, who had asked with a smile, with something so fond and nonjudgemental that taeyang knew it was just an observation, a move to learn more about each other and how they’ve opened up and shown more of themselves since being together. 

“holidays tire me out.” that’d been taeyang’s answer. after taking the elder’s hand in his own, and resting his entire cheek on it to lay against the table. it’s not the entire truth but it’s the truth. it’s easier to get pulled into dreams during the holidays and it’s easier to lose himself int he desires people have in the day, in the agonies and the desperation in people’s wishes as the holidays draw near. hyunshik’s laugh is something simple, something understanding even if he doesn’t know the full story. he lets taeyang’s hand hold his, squeeze it and use it to ground him as he always does. hyunshik’s thumb still brushes over his knuckles, his other running through the younger’s hair, no fruther questions asked. 

‘you realize i have to go back to work yes?’ “mhm, stop playing with my hair then.” ‘stop looking cute when i play with your hair.’

taeyang’s eyes do open then, only because he’s able to draw himself out yet another daydream that calls towards him. he’s used to those words as well, being called cute because they’re calling him an airhead, being called adorable because they think he’s just unaware and naive. he’s used to the connotations that come with always seeming faraway, as hyunshik had said. what he’s realized is that they often exist separately, he can be simply be him, him separate from the tolls his power take on him and that is also a him that hyunshik likes and enjoys being around. that’s a reminder that keeps him grounded more than anything.

there’s a pause, hyunshik regarding the cafe and any signs from his co-workers that they might need him. 

“people dream a lot during the holidays. they’re tired, they wish for other circumstances, they work harder for different circumstances. it’s exhausting.” he hears a hum and maybe he’s cheating because he thinks hyunshik’s attention is only halfway on him. he knows the truth that hyunshik’s attention always tends to be hyper-focused on both him and everything around him. it’s in fact how they manage to mesh so well. “makes it hard to focus.” he’s also not speaking too loud, most of the words mumbled into his sleeve. he doesn’t want to be heard but he also wants to yell it.

‘you are here to see me right?’ “who else would i be here to see?” there’s a glint in hyunshik’s eyes when taeyang does look up to speak. sometimes taeyang thinks hyunshik knows more than he should have to explain.  ‘exactly. so just focus on me.’

hyunshik shrugs at that, makes no denial and taeyang’s cheeks turn red for the first time in a  while. 

@principalles

no one’s ever asked hanna her favorite season. that’s because everyone has their ideas and their assumptions of the kind of girl she is and the kind of things she likes. there’s her classmates, who see her as ever studious, full of ideas and creativity. she’s a little stand-offish in class, either because of her obvious prowess ( which is what her dad said ) or because she’s always treated everyday like a runway. but she seems like a winter child, a little ice-cold, bundled up and away from others. maybe a summer child, a little wild and with the latest trends, the brightest colors and the most expensive taste. 

hanna, has always been an autumn child. every season has its colors and its differences but she’s always loved the change that autumn brings. she loves watching the leaves turn, right before they hit the ground. she always loves the differences in every turn, from greens to yellows, reds to oranges. she likes autumn because of how new it feels each time. she loves autumn because each year she feels like she hasn’t seen it all. as an aspiring designer fall always seems too easy but for her it’s always a new beginning and new inspiration.

she spends more time outside in autumn than she does in the summer. she spends it at different cafes, at different stores, more time in her fabrics and in her sketchbook than one would expect. few people know this but those who have gotten to know her often expect the switch in her personality when the season comes around the corner. this means: more texts, more requests to hang out, and now suddenly, more dates.

yes there are dates involved because now she has a boyfriend. now she’s experiencing other reasons to love autumn. like now, with minsoo ahead in line ordering their drinks while she waits outside the coffee shop. minsoo who she’d forgotten is remarkably observational and had commented about her hair before she could remember she’d changed it. who’d commented about the colors she’d thrown into her wardrobe, the tans and blues she’d gone for today. minsoo who instead of complaining about her dragging him to a fashion event had just said ‘we’ll make it a date’ and caused hanna to deliberate her outfit for two hours this morning. 

minsoo who’s silhouette is starting to make up all the memories she’ll have of this fall. and probably many more to come.

balls on the island were a big thing. they weren’t common, though festivals and other forms of celebration were more common in place of them. the kingdom’s capital located by piers and the sea made it easy to haul fresh fish to the town center and grill and dance into the night. balls were more formal events, celebrating engagements, coming of events or welcoming and honoring visitors or the royalty. 

bo’s dad is a man of his people, so the balls were never really exclusive unless they had to be. balls were open to all who would and could attend and because of the frequency of late night festivals it was no sting to someone’s heart if they couldn’t make it. one would always find the king and queen either from the cover of their balcony or from the corners of a rooftop watching over and enjoying in closed company.

this ball in particular was open to all and important for one. this ball wasn’t exactly an engagement but it meant a lot and it shows from the amount of times he’s seen his mother in her chambers or scampering back and forth from the town to the palace, carrying troves of fabric and with advisors and planners on her heels.

there’s only two other balls of a higher caliber that she’d work this hard for - and that’s an engagement or an appointment. tomorrow night, bo would be formally announcing to the kingdom that his courting of joy was with intentions for her to be his and by proxy for the kingdom to one day be hers. the ball tomorrow was the official announcement that he has made a decision, no more suitors, no more bachelor and diplomatic visits and no marriages for alliances. it was one thing for the townspeople to gossip and tease him but it was another thing for him to show her off in front of family, friends and citizens alike. 

he’s told her, explained how he world around her would change by the pseudo sort of title she’d be given and despite all the preparation and the idea to surprise him tomorrow night with the outfit his mother’s put work in - he hasn’t seen her in a few days and he’s accepted the consequences of a small scolding to sneak a conversation. or a peek. three days of preparation is way too long to not see her, especially with the constant she’s become in her daily life. despite his insistence he knows she’d rather learn lessons from those offering in the palace, so he knows even when she should be relaxing for the gala she’s still making sure her form is perfect. that’s how bo knows where to find her. that and if he enters the palace he just has to follow the sound of the music and once he’s closer the sound of her speaking to herself.

there’s a swell of pride in his chest when he hears her whispering words in his language to herself. she’s in one of the older rooms that he used to take the same lessons in when it was required and through the light peeking from old blinds, she’s a vision he’s missed for days. 

1. 

with bo it’s the subtlest of things, the sweetest of things. it’s a gentle brush out of respect for who he is and who she will soon be. it’s nothing outwardly spoken but it’s something so treasured and so viewed that it means more to the people around them when they see it.

it’ll be on the back of her hand, the softest of touches, from the rub of his thumb to the brush of his lips before uttering a good morning, or asking for another impromptu dance. its paired with a hello gorgeous in his language or hers, and a smile for the way her cheeks apple upon contact and grow redder with the more he just has to plant afterward. 

it’ll be on the side of her cheek, another good morning coming along but the scenery is always a corridor or the study rooms, always early and in the midst of daily activities. their rooms are far apart for the nature of what to become of them and traditions, but he manages to sneak by to whisper a hello and to drop by a flower or two.

or three.

bo’s mornings start earlier than joy’s, and he can’t seem to get by them without seeing her face and if she’s up early to stroll with his mother, he can’t say he’s bothered about details why. 

it’s for courtesy, it’s for image, but it’s also because of the way he sees her. not as delicate but treasured, adored, something to cherish and to be grateful for. it’s the tenderness in which bo delivers the most subtle of kisses, that when they do reach her lips, when they’re secluded and a little giddy, nothing can quite sum up the feeling. 

that’s why, try as he might he’s holding her a little closer, breathing her in a little better for how quick the moment must be and how quick she must go. for how long he can hold onto the feeling, of fingers in his shirt and an eagerness returned in the places they can have to themselves.

2. 

with hyuncheol it’s never a dull moment. 

it might come with petnames, with a babe in the form of whines from behind jinsoo’s head. with a honey, or a sweetheart for the proverbial tick mark to appear on her temple before she turns around ready to hurl the nearest book at his head.

it never makes it that far because he catches her there, hold her there with a smile only after he’s gotten one or two in. because try as she might, jinsoo can never hide the way the kisses manage to catch her off guard and hyuncheol cannot ignore the triumph he gets whenever she visibly stumbles over words, her arms stutter mid-throw and he can get a good few in before she’s raging after him.

or when he’s calling her over, something low and mischievous and when she’s hunched over to ask what he needs help with - he’s stealing another. and another. and another. 

with hyuncheol sometimes he says it and sometimes he just does it. sometimes it’s for him because he needs it, misses it and craves it and sometimes its for her. sometimes its for the little moments of tension he picks up on but doesn’t say anything about. for all that’s developed between them there’s still things they might hold onto, both a little too stubborn to bother the other, but both homing beacons for the other’s stress.

where jinsoo might come over and sit herself in his lap, he’ll grab her hand and drag her for a ride on the bike. he’ll assign no meanings to the way her hands curl in his shirt or her face digs into the back of his jacket. 

but for hyuncheol, these kisses are reminders of freedom so he takes as many as he can get. because there’s comfort in knowing he can and there’s trust in knowing he can. 

3. 

with yongguk, it’s sweet. it’s always something sweet.

chungha’s often warned him about going out of his way to be this good to her, but it’s something he can’t help. as his sphere’s grown smaller and smaller over the years, the span of his affection has grown for those around him.

for his sister, his brother, ex-members now brothers as well.

and her. 

so it’s usually over a dinner, or on the way home from a dinner, hand in hers, sometimes it’s over the head of a bouquet of flowers, and sometimes behind the clasp of a necklace. it’s always gentle, it’s always something that leaves her chasing and him with a huge smile and fondness that’s visible in every exhale as he laughs, as he holds her close.

there’s an intensity to it, as there often is with anything he does carefully. it makes the moments flow like molasses but sweet like it should be never-ending and there’s no other way for it to be. it’s meant for the moments they can’t see each other and meant to make the moments they do all the more worth it. 

it’s meant to keep some normality to this, to dating, to loving and to being allowed to, in gentle ways, in ways that remind the person that’s what they are.

loved.

enjoyed.

cherished.

yongguk makes sure each kiss says such.

4. 

with taeyang. it’s subtle. so subtle that he’s often lost as to how hyunshik picks up on the cues. but hyunshik does and he does it in a way that makes it sudden for everyone else, but right on time for the person it’s intended for.

for the one who matters the most. 

with taeyang it’s always something a little grounding, a little sought out without him knowing. 

sought out when his elbow starts to slide on coffee tables and his eyes remain unfocused but zeroed in on his boyfriend. when the coffee isn’t helping and he’s just waiting for them to walk home. when hyunshik slips over, slips a kiss in between seconds that taeyang can only smile into and believe as a dream.

until hyunshik’s co-working are ooh-ing and ahh-ing over it and he’s burying his head in his arms.

it’s sought out when they’re walking, hand in hand and taeyang’s eyes are barely open and the summer heat makes him want to crawl into a blanket rather than soak in a pool. when it makes him want to curl into his boyfriend like a cat and hyunshik reminds them they have tasks, grocery shopping and what-not. taeyang who nods through it, eyes barely open and hyunshik who kisses him because he can, a fondness taeyang can’t see but he can almost feel against his lips. 

it’s especially sought-out in the mornings, a coffee mug ready to slip from his fingers and hyunshik asking what they should have for breakfast. hyunshik’s taking to doing the talking when taeyang is too tired to function, or when he’s not quite all there yet and he prefers to listen to coffee beans grind and his boyfriend’s voice, rough in the morning to snap him awake. taeyang follows the voice, his head moving as hyunshik moves about the kitchen, but his eyes don’t open and when hyunshik asks if he’s listening: he smiles.

there’s nothing inherently special about it. as most artists come to realize, they’ll let other people assign their ideas and their thoughts to their pieces. the same can be said for tattoos, they don’t always need meanings, they don’t always have occasions. they’re just spurs of the moment, needs, urges, little places to feel and sometimes an itch to scratch. 

but jamie, jamie’s somehow found a way to give new and better meaning to the most insignificant of things. so when she’s perched on his lap, legs crossed and more interested in him than the movie they’d been watching - he wants to indulge her. he has to. 

it’s become something of a game, one that started when she’d been leaning against him at first, her hand in his and she’d asked about the words wrapped around his wrist. ‘do what you love, love what you do’. sam had had a sour pop in his mouth when she’d traced a thumb over the ink and raised it up with the question in the air. 

“that’s a reminder to keep doing art when others have shit to say.”

he’d said it simply, the relaxation of the day finally getting to him and causing his words to slip out slow and sweet. it’s how he wants anytime with jamie to go by and it’s how he lets himself truly relax. head thrown back, the sounds of the tv moving to the background as her own questions come to the forefront. sam feels a little drunk like this - whenever her fingers start to trace and her voice starts to bleed through. 

as the memory comes back to mind, so does the lazy smile as he answers her.

‘did it hurt?’

“no more than the others.”

it was as she asked that she’d changed her position then, from facing the television to facing him, to sitting up and looking focused on this. 

summer’s are hot and sam will always prefer her pressed this close and compromise by wearing a tank top, or an open button up. he’s recently got an addition to his chest piece so while it heals he’s got nothing to hide, nothing to cover. jamie’s gotten used to it but there’s always a slight flush to her face when she remembers, one that brings a smile to his lips and a kiss to hers if he can manage.

he doesn’t do it this time because he watches her eyes wander, watches the questions and the fascination build up in her eyes. he watches the heat die down from her cheeks to her neck and her hands moving to break her out her stupor. her fingers are feather-light barely padding across his skin, following the lines of every tattoo she sees and questions with her eyes before she can get the words out. sam lets her, watches her, dares not to move if only to squeeze his thumbs into her hips to hold her steady.

‘sammie.’ “hm?”

she outlines one in particular, going around his right shoulder and a little into his chest, it’s dragon scales that wrap halfway down his arm and his undearm. there’s the question in her eyes as her fingers linger.

“video game character i played had it. my buddy was getting his certification so i let him do it.”

she keeps moving and he keeps answering. the small ones, tinier designs that he just fit where he could, some of things he likes, some of things he dreamed of. he opens up more of his days before moving here the more she moves across his skin. from art exhibits he’s frequented, to favorite animals, mythical creatures and even cartoon characters, sam’s arms are little pieces of him that he doesn’t think about until now. 

‘this one?’

her fingers trace lightly, across the beginning of his chest piece and up the side of his neck where it begins. it’s his favorite one and she touches it so gingerly he has to take a second to breathe and focus to answer.

“my mom’s favorite flower - and her birthday.” her lips part into an ‘oh’ quiet fascination still swimming in her eyes, fingers still reaching, searching as they slip behind his ear and try to trace where she knows the other tattoo is. sam’s eyes close shut on reflex, jamie’s fingers a soft and gentle reminder of all she is to him and how easily she has him in her grasp, how easily he wants to lean into the touch and just fall into the couch. ‘behind it?’ “the sun and the moon together - to remind me to relax.” he has to clear his throat a bit, ground himself as he tries to answer. focus less on the heat that follows her fingertips, the tingles through his skin that he can still map from where it started to where she. the smell of her, the jasmine perfume, the feel of her, weighted and soft and something to curl into, to pull to and fall into.

jamie’s hands still play around, curiosity in every touch, like she’s trying to find every line, every stroke that made each piece what it is. her hands flit behind his ears, behind his neck and sam - breathes through it all. 

“jay.” ‘hm?’

she sits back at that, maybe from the sound in his voice, the obvious strain, but her fingers slide forward just as easily as she moves and he exhales again.

“gettin’ kinda hard to focus.” ‘oh - does it make you sleepy?’

quite the opposite.

she sounds disappointed, almost like there’s more she wants to learn and more she wants to ask, but sam doesn’t know how many more questions he can answer. and he breathes out a laugh at the sound of her voice and fixes her with a stare, a stare whose meaning she misses because her eyes land on another, on the side of his ribcage.

‘is this new!’ there’s so much excitement, he has to smile and regard which one she’s referring to. it’s jasmine flowers up the side of his chest, under his armpit and wrapping close to his pec muscles. there are words along it and a date along the stems. she focuses on it longer and sam watches the words repeat softly on her lips. ’are those - that’s one of my poems.’

“that’s the day i went to your open mic.” ‘when you asked if i minded someone getting a tattoo of my poetry...’ “yeah, i had joon do it for me.”

her thumb graces over the words, still covered in second skin for healing and the sensitivity is enough to push him over the edge.

‘sorry - does it still hurt? what’s it feel like?’ there’s a tug of her teeth against her lips at that, and sam uses that second, that split second to breathe out a final resolve before he’s pulling her close, stories and memories be damned. lips on hers and laughter at how sudden it is. 

“i’ll show you.”

sam’s fond, drunk on it and so in love that he lets every memory, every sensation that’s still flowing in his veins start to multiply on her. for every breath her couldn’t get out, any sound just to let her continue asking, learning, he hears it with every nip, every kiss and every bite. just as her fingers did, her travels about, taking in the giggles and the gasps and the wiggles of jamie closer, further, gentle, animated. he takes it all in until he thinks he’s sated and then he takes some more. 

over and over until pink isn’t the only color blooming on her skin. 

later, when she’s flushed and pressed against him again, when the television is background noise again and sam’s arms are wrapped around her, he gets the chance to answer.

normally, sooyoung minds her business.

scratch that, usually sooyoung minds her business. she keeps away from office gossip, stays out the sights of the interns who flirt too much, the girls on the prowl for a victim, the people who always get caught in the break room. she keeps her distance because she can get distracted fairly easily, and when she’s resigned to a task she likes to finish it.

since she’s almost always given a task of some sort at the company, it’s not hard for her to stay focused. she misses out on juicy gossip of course but it’s not too big a deal. the scraps of the gossip get to her sooner or later and even if she’s late on the news, sometimes it’s just as sweet to be in the loop at some point.

even if it’s in the end and it’s a small chuckle or a gasp.

a ‘hyerim is dating who?’, ‘who’s the new intern’ or ‘whose on a warpath today’. things like that. but she always makes sure that she stays out of it, and if she’s apart of it, it doesn’t last long. there’s never much to say about her because she’s really always working, or smiling and avoiding any type of misconceptions.

it’s been - significantly harder since everything changed on that retreat with dylan way back when - but she manages to keep herself far away from his floor in order to keep her eyes from giving her away. truth of the matter is, dylan’s proven he could care less who was around if he wanted to show his affections - he would.

still, the occasional word passes on how he’s nicer to her than others, how he often brings up her propositions when her director mentions them, and he’s one of the few higher ups to request her assistance. talk as they may - sooyoung knows her work ethic makes it easy to discredit rumors. 

all this is said to say - she has a reputation, one that’s very carefully crafted so that she has no trouble getting where she wants - especially if it’s a chair right opposite director cho. the thing is - in order to keep it crafted and clean, she has to have her moments. these aren’t slip-ups, nor are they simple things like midnight face masks or loaded fries after a long week. 

sooyoung is human, and sooyoung has steam to let out. 

that steam, gets burned to the max at a certain club at a hole in the wall in hongdae. far from the company but apparently not far enough from her colleagues. she frequents latin night, has been going since an old friend introduced her and she found she had a flair for the environment, the dance, the hustle, the let go and let loose without a care of the next morning. she’ll often play songs from curated playlists in order to get her through the day and remind herself that she’s going to the club that night.

thing is - she’s often checked to make sure none of her colleagues frequent this club, it’s closed off enough that it’s become something of a secret, but still classy enough that she won’t worry about who catches her for the next song.

she’s never had a concern - throwing her head around, feeling the frills of her skirt tickle her skin, sweat and alcohol alike clogging the air. she’s never worried about getting caught in this little patch of joy she’s found.

so imagine her surprise when she’s stumbling towards the bar, feet only sore from the amount of songs she’s done without stopping and not the alcohol. the bartender who’s come to know her hands her a glass immediately and sooyoung is downing it, the red one her lips starting to stain the rim. 

it’s been a hard week, and an even harder day, this was exactly what she needed, she’d even dressed up a bit to get into it. she’s got many more songs in her, many more steps before she needs to retire, and a late start to the next day so she’s feeling the adrenaline kick right back in.

before she can step back out, a couple things happen at once.

her watch pings, indicating a message to her phone. the bartender slides her a drink - knowing she doesn’t drink when she’s ready to dance, and points in a specific direction in the club. 

she’s used to getting drinks, used to declining and even now, more used to declining dances when she thinks they’re getting too friendly and there’s already someone reserved for that. she’s halfway into checking her watch, and looking for the culprit when her eyes read the text and then move on auto-pilot.

msg: look up.

the first that startles her, is that the message is rom dylan. the second thing that startles her is that - the direction she’s looking is the same direction the bartender had pointed in - all to confirm that he’s here. dylan is here - in the very club that she thought was too hidden away for her to run into anyone.

and of all people - he’s here.

and she’s looking like this. sweating like this and suddenly sooyoung is struck with the thought that he might’ve seen her dance like this.

‘yes i saw you dance.’ the proximity makes the words cut in through the club music and her thoughts and sooyoung nearly jumps in her heels. naturally, dylan is right behind her to keep her steady, his chuckle heavy and low against her skin as she steadies herself by the bar. 

“i said that out loud didn’t i----”

all the confidence the adrenaline gives her in times like this fades, replaced with the silly butterflies that fly through her chest each time he so much as opens his mouth to laugh. not even to speak - just to laugh and she’s a mess.

‘i didn’t know you could dance.’ “i didn’t know you knew this place.” ‘came for a business deal, they picked te place.’

dylan’s moved to take his place beside the counter and sooyoung thanks the heavens the bartender knows her usual order when she’s getting a little jittery. these were times well before dylan, when it was normal to have jitters about dancing with strangers, or even talking to one she found attractive at the bar. she lets her fingers play with the straw and her body take a breath before actually regarding dylan.

he looks great ( of course he looks great ) and she’s suddenly reminded of what she has on.

‘you look gorgeous.’

she feels like mush. it’s a good feeling no doubt - but it’s overwhelming still. the sooyoung he’s used to, is definitely not the one in short sun dresses, heels and red lipstick, shaking her hips to latin music in the middle of a club. regardless - she’s never thought of how to prepare for this because she never saw it coming. dylan, seems to pick up on it, because there’s a hand on her waist, a squeeze to stop the panicking that she knows is unnecessary. there’s a clink at the end of the table almost immedaitely and she’s reminded that the bartender knows this sooyoung and nothing of her outside of this establishment.

so he’s worried and giving her the signal that he’s here to help.

and god sooyoung nearly laughs.

“it’s fine! he’s good! he’s my - he’s...we’re...he’s not bad!” ‘i’m hers - for the rest of the night, if she’ll have me.’

could the earth swallow her?

her gaze switches between the bartender’s smug but concerned look, and dylan’s confidence.

“do you dance?” ‘no, but i won’t miss the chance.’

sooyoung actually laughs this time. dylan’s smiling so easily, like there’s really nothing to worry about and she’d almost forgot that when she’s here - there’s really nothing to worry about. and with him, there’s never anything to worry about, especially when it’s just them. 

and tonight, that’s all it really needs to be. 

she laughs and he looks at her like she’s crazy when she decides to down her drink finally and reach up to pat his cheek.

“try to keep up?” the smile is shy but the words carry ever bit of confidence that she pulls out when she’s on the dance floor. she leaves him for a few seconds to go request a song and then is pulling him with her to a corner of the dance floor. she’s suddenly giddy, very giddy and all previous worries or stress start to fade as the music picks up and the people around them do the same. sooyoung fastens his hands on her hips, breathes out all her worries in one last exhale before looking him in the eye. he looks determined but also he’s observing the people around them, and his hands start to squeeze the more he sees the movements around them.

sooyoung is more aware of things, the lack of space between them, necessary for the dancing and partially because of how packed the dance floor is. she’s aware once again of what she’s wearing but each time she catches dylan watching her, waiting for her orders, or her movements, she doesn’t feel shy, she feels every bit of the compliment he’d said earlier.

she feels just as gorgeous as she does when she comes to let loose, and even more so when her hips start to move and his eyes struggle to focus on her guidance, her movements, or her eyes. it makes her smile, it makes her laugh, it makes her want to keep going.

so she does. so they do. 

it’s awkward, of course it is, it’s obvious that this is new to him but all jokes aside - there’s not much the guy has to do when the girl wants to show off. and sue her, she wants to show off a little. she’s wants to move her hips so fast that when the edge of her dress flies along, it’s less of the air around her and the fabric that reminds her dylan’s right behind her. she wants to hold him close that he has no choice but to move with her, against her and match her.

she wants to give him just a bit, just a taste of this version of her, even if she’s not always this - it’s a part of her and it makes her happy, free and feeling free like this, with him is important to her. 

dylan - he takes it all. he keeps his grip firm, he lets himself be freer as the songs change, as he gets comfortable, as he experiments. he lets his hands wander, she lets his lips fall where they wish, she lets him grip, tug, knead around all the parts of this version of her that he’s not used to. she lets him learn and she lets herself be open to it. she moves with all the openness that office her couldn’t quite muster, but with all the desire that she carries every day. she moves for the things she’s often too shy to say or get out, she lets each shake, each rock, each slip of skin, pass of lips, say all that she’s wanted to.

she’s almost surprised at how easy it is. 

when her hair falls out the ponytail and his lips move from her neck to her ear. when he’s whispering things that make her giggle and stick to him. things that make her forget the rhythm and the music, things that make her turn the color of the drink she’d had earlier and not care one bit. she makes out a few of the words, when his hands haven’t stopped tugging on the frills of her dress and her response is a tug of her teeth against a collarbone and then giggles as a hand in hers is tugging her off the dance floor. 

it’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s everything a night like this should be and all she can see is the outline of his shoulder where his button up has started to ride low, a few buttons undone. a little peek of red shows the true damage she’d done without realizing and it’s the promise for the rest of the night.

sooyoung is beside herself with joy, thrumming with it when the car pulls up, when his hands can barely stay off her when they’re inside. when her fingers play around the very marks she can’t take her eyes off on his neck.

it’s so unlike her - and yet it’s completely like her. 

he’s focusing on the road, making the mental decision between her place and his.

“mine is closer.” he gives her a look like he doesn’t know what she means. ‘are you in a rush?’ and two can play at that, so sooyoung leans over, chin on his shoulder. “aren’t you?” there’s a squeeze to her thigh at that and she stifles her laughter when she hears the engine accelerate. 

‘are you off tomorrow?’ “i think i can be.”

maybe it’s the magic answer, they reach her place in record time. and the way he can barely keep his hands off her - if someone sees - persona be damned. 

@principalles​

there’s nothing different here.

minsoo is sitting beside her at the coffee table. 

there’s nothing different here.

there’s no exams, no homework on the table, a menu yes. he’s got a book and she’s got a tablet but, there’s no studying. not tutoring either, though it’s less to do with her approaching graduation.

still, there’s nothing different here.

hanna’s got one hand going through different textures and brushes for her outline, and another hand under the table.

she bites the pencil, frustrated with a decision and minsoo gives her hand a squeeze. her cheeks burn, she squeaks for a moment and he eyes her from over his book. 

‘you said you wouldn’t squeak.’ “i didn’t squeak dammit.”

he’s been wearing white tee’s and loose button ups to fit the weather and she can’t focus and he has the nerve to smile like that?! still, he goes back to his book and she goes back to her drawing, annoyed with how much she’s been into drawing male models and male collections, drawings whose physiques seem to resemble the man beside her.

the man whose holding her hand, the man whose now sitting just a few inches from her. the man whose every move has her a little jumpy - a little jittery to the point that jamie’s phone has blown up only for her friend to send laughing emoji’s back, the nerve. 

‘you’re so close to the honeymoon phase i can’t wait.’

to which hanna had asked what she meant and jamie refused to respond. 

‘are you stuck? do you want to take a walk?’

hanna’s final project is an entire collection curated by her and she’s not stressed -she’s been making collections since she entered college. it’s child’s play. but the genuine way he asks and seems worried, she wants to have trouble endlessly. 

“i wanna stay here.” her hand squeezes his on impulse and minsoo takes the second to react to that, and then meet her gaze once more. that’s all the reaction she gets for a few minutes and she forgets how easily this man can read her. because no she’s not struck wondering if this is all in her head, or if any movement will break her from this feeling, from the reality of what it is, or what it could be. some irrational fear that leaving will leave all of this and everything with it.

because something is definitely different here. something is most definitely different, in a good way. in the best of ways. ‘we can come back you know, here.’ hanna feels her face getting red and she lets go of his hand immediately and reaches for her things. if she gets a reaction after that it’s the form of his laughter following her out the door.