#sgnlara

          It’s almost midnight. He’s heard that parties could go on to the dawn, memories that escape them come morning. But it feels a little out of reach in his present state. Though, he wonders if anyone does that willingly. It sounds like something one would have to be high or canned to do without a second thought. Or maybe just someone with a little more self-confidence. The small percentage within him says he’s missing out, just like the previously very necessary piece to his outfit. Rolling his eyes at the retreating figure, he trudges forward.

          The missing cape aside, he wonders where all the momentum had gone. Just how much of the 9:00 PM energy had remained with attendees? How many have headed home? A quick glance tells him that at least forty percent are still around, if his memory serves him right, that is. Without facial features, he’s left to memorize the hand gestures, speech patterns, and the most vivid of colors. On the flip side, the tribune writer part of him wakes. He even thinks he’ll make a feature out of someone. Perhaps he’ll see a new submission on this night in about a day — events that had fallen from his peripheral. 

          After a good five minutes of hesitation, he sneaks in a wonderfully colorful beverage before rushing to fix his mask back in place. Note to self: choose more breathable, and food-friendly material. Elias takes another, more thorough, look around the ballroom. He’s not searching for anything or anyone in particular, but as the music changes to something a bit more familiar — a violin piece he’s sure is in his phone somewhere — he spots a particularly wonderful person off to the side. He can’t lie to himself. He’s been stealing glances for a while now. The ball ends in about an hour anyway, so he should try for a dance while he can. The urge to walk up to them — stride more confident with the anonymity, and voice slightly altered by the mask — grows ever stronger with each step. “If it’s alright with you, would you care for a dance?” Elias bows with an extended hand, somewhat reminiscent of long, warm nights, and afternoon picnics.

@sgnlara

Even though he’s been very much preoccupied by baseball and of course, his classes, there was something, or rather, someone, who had been missing more and more in Matthew’s day-to-day life that was weighing him down a bit.  That being said, even during the times he did see her, she didn’t seem herself.  Blaming himself for not making the move to get her up and out of her room lately, Matthew knew he had to do something to cheer Lara up... even if he didn’t exactly know what was making her down.

summer break has officially ended, and there’s only one weekend left before the new fall semester starts, but it feels like summer break only just began last week. things have gone by so fast that she doesn’t know where time has gone, and the idea that time is a social construct has never been more believable. she almost regrets not having gone out more, but when she remembers that she had summer classes in addition to all the projects she’d started over the past few weeks, she’s a little less hard on herself. there’ll be plenty of time to go out when she’s dead, or something like that.

in any case, with the weekend still left to go before the new school year begins, she figures now is as good a time as any to finally go out and have a little bit of summer fun. in most people’s cases, that would involve going out and getting drunk, but yoohyeon would love nothing more at the moment than to go out and have some summer treats, and she can’t think of anyone else she’d rather do that with than lara, who seems to love and appreciate sweet desserts just as much as she does.

luckily, lara wasn’t busy when yoohyeon had called her, so now she sits in wait outside of the bingsu shop where they’d decided to meet up. impatient, idle fingers check the time to see that there’s still five minutes left to the meetup time, but if lara is even a second late, yoohyeon isn’t going to hesitate to call her up and ask where she is. and so the countdown begins.

          they’ve gone through this countless times since they met   —   fighting over who gets to pay but chanyeol has a surefire system to win almost every time and it’s worked, for the most part anyway. first, get in line before yoohyeon. second, distract her with someone. third, offer to hold her bag or whatever so she doesn’t have her wallet. fourth, ask her to grab something or get something else so she’s gone. fifth, just push her aside if all else fails. this time, he didn’t have to fight much because she’s been on the lookout for lara since they entered the bowling alley and he’s still holding onto the ticket for her friend to get her shoes once she’s arrived. this fits in perfectly with the 2nd method: distraction. 

a lot of people seem to associate seollal with family, and he supposes it’s a warranted connection. before his mother’s disappearance, the three of them used to spend the holiday together, eating an extravagant dinner prepared by her hands, dressing in newly bought traditional clothing, exchanging gifts, all of the things one would expect of a typical family, but once she fell sick, everything fell by the wayside, including himself, and things like quality time were nothing but a distant memory. it’s why it had never even crossed his mind to go home for the holidays.

instead, he finds himself dressed to the nines from head to toe, carrying a large white box through gong hall, heels of his oxfords echoing behind him. he stops in front of lara’s dorm, turning to lean against the wall next to the door as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. he types up a quick message, telling her to open the door, and once she does, he turns his head to greet her, trademark grin on his face.

“feeling hungry?” he asks, more as a courtesy---how nice of him---than an actual question. it’s to inform her of where her evening is headed, and to top it all off, he drops the large white box into her arms, it’s contents, her gown for the evening. it’s not that he thinks she can’t afford a nice one, but he has a certain image to uphold, and now that they’re dating, quote unquote, she needs to uphold it as well.

“and will you hurry it up, darling,” he adds, tone so saccharine it’d give anyone a toothache. “we’re going to be late.”

“sungjin, hwiyoung and lara! i’ve known hwiyoung the longest and he’s seen me through my worst and still sticks around, so i’m really grateful for him. sungjin’s stuck around too, though he’s always on my side and i feel so safe with him. everyone needs a sungjin in their lives but you can’t have him! he’s mine! and with lara, it felt like we just kind of instantly had that connection, you know? i may have known her the least amount of time versus the other two but i trust her with so much, she feels like a sister! i’m ... kind of scared to reveal all of my sides to her because i’m so afraid she’ll leave, but that’s something to worry about for another day! i’m just happy she’s here with me right now! i’m so happy that i have all of them in my life.” ( @sgnsungjin, @sgnxhwiyoung, @sgnlara )

backdated 28 april 2020 !

no matter what, one must keep up appearances.

it’s a mantra ingrained into him from the moment he was born, repeated over and over until he could no longer be suffocated by them, immune to its drowning effects.

it’s also an excuse he uses for the bouquet of daffodils he has sent to her dorm, its bright yellows eclipsing the sun before it can even rise, reminiscent of her unbearable shine, the brightness she brings to the dull shadows of his apartment, curtains drawn, with only filtered rays to trickle in, drawing lines across the room.

but it doesn’t explain why he counts the days. ten, twenty, thirty, all the way up to the first triple digit, one hundred days of a relationship---no, an agreement---that no one believes but everyone pretends to. it doesn’t explain why he’s splayed across his couch as usual, this time waiting for her to arrive, the uncertainty of it all driving him mad. why couldn’t she keep her random visits scheduled? it’s so inconvenient, an annoyance, really, to be expected to expect, to have another’s presence forced upon him like another one of his father’s grand ideals.

nor does it explain the box of macarons on the counter, the polaroid photos of dolce, the vintage silk hair scarf because she’s always playing with her fucking hair. it doesn’t explain the setting at the table, the real food on the stove, as she’s been insisting on for weeks, the effort put in when none of it matters when no one else can see. but why does he feel compelled to go through the motions, as if he has any obligation toward her when the entire arrangement was made because she is the one who owes him?

he supposes it’s just another way for her to irritate him (as if she’s been the one hellbent on getting on his every last nerve).

the second he hears the familiar beeps of the lock on his door, he quickly turns his body to face the back of his couch, suddenly far too embarrassed frustrated to face the world, let alone one of the only people who has cared to see him in the past two months. so he does what any normal person would do when an unwanted guest arrives. he pretends to be asleep.

all he’d wanted was to see a giant pile of burning straw and twigs, a contained disaster, if you will, something a little like him, but less explosive. the last time he’d seen something like it was back in france, but that’s something he doesn’t talk about, for legal reasons. but as with all things regarding this godforsaken campus, they just had to make things a little more complicated, and now he’s staring at a blank piece of paper, pen poised in hand, wondering if there’s anything he even wants to wish for.

some would find it a bit disheartening, to find they don’t have any desires or wants, but he’s become used to it, a future already chosen for him, so he sees no need to waste time wondering if there were anything he’d want to do more. it’s why all he has left to want is to be a nuisance, to raise hell for the ones who have put him on this path, even if it means dragging other people through the mud with him. it’s part of the reason he’s dragged lara again with him to one of these seollal celebration events, after all, merely another means of alleviating his boredom. the other part? well, he couldn’t be sure, but that doesn’t matter anyway.

“here, have another wish,” he says, giving up after thinking about it for all of thirty seconds. he hands the paper and pen out for her to take, bored expression on his face, lips set into a straight line. “i don’t have any. why would i? i’ve got everything i need.”

right?