#versionloop

and the impromptu party before that promised tomorrow feels like a warmup, a gentle rehearsal for the day that will come, or maybe it's more fitting to be calling it an attempt of covering up rough edges of the day that passed. a sweet distraction, a promise to make failures feel... worthwhile, if anything. a bandaid, of sorts.

he doesn’t really expect reiko to show up, not after everything, but the second he spots her in the crowd, he heads over on unsteady feet, cheeks tinted rosy and matching the red paper cups he’s holding — their contents suspicious at best, thanks to whoever decided to get creative behind the makeshift bar (do not ask him which cup is this: at this point, he's gaslit himself it actually tastes good). he leans against the railing, awfully close to her insofar he fan feel the warmth of her skin against his, flashing her a crooked grin as he offers one over.

“it smells strange, but the taste's good,” he says, voice slurred and nearly drowned out by the pounding music and the low hum of chatter. “listen — i’ve had my bike stolen so many times i can count them on one hand.” he raises two fingers between them, blinking. “wait… four? yeah, four times. we can look for 'em again tomorrow." minjae's head leans back, as if staring at the stars, but his eyes stay locked on reiko instead. "you should have some fun, rei~.”

his civil procedure ii readings are actively kicking his ass. the reading is so fucking dense that minseong begins to contemplate how it actually feels to slam one's head against the side of a wooden table until he loses his vision so he doesn't have to read the fucking words res judicata and collateral estoppel anymore. at this point, minseong just wants the world to screech to a fucking estoppel (he knows this doesn't make sense — fuck you).

succumbing to his patience wearing thinner than bald car tires skidding on ice, minseong gives up on his entire law career for ten minutes of his late-night session in the library to wander aimlessly around the convenience store downstairs to un-numb his brain from swierkiewicz v. sorema n.a. it repeats in his mind, even as he tries to distract himself trying to decide between a jigglypuff or dugtrio pokémon bread — employment discrimination complaint need not contain specific facts establishing a prima facie case but instead must contain only a short and plain statement of the claim showing that the pleader is entitled to relief. an employment discrimination complaint need not contain specific facts establishing a prima facie case but instead must contain only a short and plain statement of the claim showing that the pleader is entitled to relief.

and while minseong can memorize case summaries like his life depends on it (technically, it does), he has also developed a strangely strong familiarity memorizing the back of shinohara reiko's head in an elevator. not that he looks at it on purpose or anything. it’s just — one patch on the right side is slightly wavier than the other, almost like she'd begun to crimp it on one side and not the other.

"you're pretending you didn't notice me," he blurts the moment the doors close, poking at the groove between where her ribcage and hip meet — not hard, but annoying. practiced. he'd ended up choosing both pieces of bread and two iced cafe latte cups and banana kicks. bag already opened, he slips it to her side in offering. “your crocs are ugly. what are you doing here so late? did you finally sell your app and soul to tim cook in exchange for three NDAs and an apple watch that tracks your guilt?”

agatha sits in the student government's meeting room. like always, she sat at the head of the table as if still commanding the now empty space. while the rest had already gone to enjoy their summer break, agatha's presence occupies the room as she stares down at her laptop, an email from the university's board of directors opened, read, yet unanswered.

what should've been an automatic and seamless assembly line of work to publish this year's yeonchella photos, the board suddenly decides that they want to showcase the photo physically because everything about yeonhwa needs to be grand.

she sighs, a heavy one at that, because not only did these old men change their mind at the last minute, they also requested for this to be done as soon as possible (meaning at the end of the week) and agatha's outline for how the rest of her week will pan out slowly crumbles.

she could ask sungmin, he's in the photography club, but he might already be busy and the ask is too last minute. what luck might she have if she visits their club room now?

shutting down her laptop, she slips it in her bag and heads to the club room anyways, hoping that she might find someone that would be able to help her. she reaches the room a few minutes later and knocks twice before opening the door, she peeks her head inside, wondering if anyone would still be here. what she didn't expect is to come face to face with reiko and she swears she saw flashbacks from days ago both good and bad.

“i’ll sound biased right now, and i know that, but dressing for the summer is sooooooo hardddddddd.”

the irritated groan comes underneath a pile of clothing, one seoyun completely buried underneath it. she grunted now, shoving the clothes off of her as if they grew legs and decided to sit on top of her, and not that the floor was so covered in clothes that she had no choice put to make her own tomb of short-shorts and bandeau tops.

it was the thursday night, before yeonchella officially kicked off, and seoyun had invited reiko to her dorm so they could find the best fits for the festival together; more specifically for dpr live’s set the following night. while seoyun didn’t hate hotter weather at all, but she found it a bit easier to dress when it’s cooler thanks to years and years in canada. she loved every season but summer weather-wise, to be honest. 

she didn't want to wear an outfit she'd worn prior this season, but at the same time she had so many amazing summer looks that she can't blame herself if she did become an outfit-repeater just for yeonchella… would anyone even notice? (who is she kidding, someone would totally notice and even if they didn't, herself knowing is enough to bother her.)

ugh, sue her. she was a long sleeves and boots girl.

yerim doesn't sigh — that would imply annoyance, emotion, and yerim doesn't do that. instead, she simply stares at the now-empty table like it has personally betrayed her, pretending the absence of her pencil case — along with it her best muji pen — isn't bothering her. her gaze finally settles on something, a faint circular imprint on the table that almost looks like–

oh. of course.

of course reiko is somehow involved with this. because unless yerim is sorely mistaken, which she never is, that imprint is from shinohara reiko's stupid, sticker-clad hydro flask.

the huff she lets out as she turns away from the table is inaudible, and her steps are measured as she walks towards the library's front desk. she moves like someone too composed to storm off, but just annoyed enough to make the silence feel sharp. each step is deliberate, elegant, and just sharp enough to betray her true feelings to anyone paying enough attention.

"excuse me." her tone is calm, polite as she approaches the librarian manning the front desk. she offers them a mild smile, the kind reserved for professors and other members of faculty — soft, practiced, and perfectly polite. "i'm hoping you might have my pencil case. it's small, light brown. it was on my table, but i had to run a quick errand. i'd only stepped away for a moment."

there's no time for the librarian to respond before someone else steps into yerim's field of view, and her expression shifts, almost enough to be noticeable. her smile doesn't vanish, but it loses its warmth. the one that remains is smooth, deliberate, and somewhat dangerous.

"reiko," she says. "what a pleasant surprise to run into you here."

it's rare for sohee to step out of her comfort zone and actually do something around campus instead of holing up in her dorm. sure, she's always busy, but it's always something she can do without leaving her own living room. it only took a few doomscrolls and some painfully targeted (thank you algorithm) tiktoks about the loneliness epidemic for her to try out one of their tips: do something that you'd usually do at home, outside. sounds simple enough, no? plus, the professor insists on all papers being printed and filed properly, and she hasn't been able to use her printer since she tried to replace the ink cartridges and accidentally created a never seen before pollock on her thrifted tablecloth.

four time winner of the "this is the fastest campus leaver i know" yearly awards, sohee can't say she's familiar with sejeong library. after spending one semester living on campus as a first year, she begged her parents to let her stay home during the school year and left campus the second she no longer had to stay there. there's something about a building so big that makes sohee feel even smaller, air getting thicker as she starts to grow aware more aware of her surroundings than the task at hand. it takes some getting used to, but eventually she's able to get comfortable enough to turn her rough outline and scribbled notes into a paper she can submit without feeling shame. now the only thing left for her to do is print it. easy, simple, non-threatening.

it's a truth universally acknowledged that printers can smell fear, and then act accordingly. although usually sohee would not turn down the spotlight, the last thing she wants is everyone's eyes on her as she curses that evil machine out. keeping her head high, she walks towards the printing area with extreme serenity, carefully placing her laptop on an available space and barely clicking the buttons as if it could feel the strength. the first roar of the machine catches her off guard, but she collects herself as she remembers that's usually how these things start. then, the almost soothing uniform beat begins, luring her into a sense of security that is halted half as quickly. the beat is syncopated, some random light starts flickering, the cancel button doesn't seem to do anything. she's fucked.

hwaryun tries not to be too drunk, this time. he’s limited himself to a small number of glasses, it’s only the first day of the event after all! he knows that a severe hangover while working as the student government president is going to have him suffer greatly. for all that’s worth, he should be keeping an eye on the party in nuri hall if it goes too crazy… and as the night goes on, he succumbs to alcohol. definitely not a good look, but he’s still conscious enough to listen to reiko’s complaints!

“okay, the shoes… we’re working on it, no idea why would anyone steal— hic. steal the shoes…” a hiccup comes, interrupting his words as he holds his palm to his head. hwaryun isn’t seeing doubles of anything, but he’s having trouble focusing on the girl’s words. on top of that, half of his shirt is hanging over his shoulders. it’s as if he tried to strip, but stopped halfway, and decided to just keep it there. he looks really dumb right now, with a rosy face as he looks into reiko’s eyes intently. his role model image? probably absolutely gone by now.