Catalogue Kid.

i cant tell if this is ooc or ic, but it’s not my intention to ever make someone feel unimportant 

There are relationship that don’t need to be picked apart until it becomes unrecognizable. These relationships simply thrive off the absence of questions. Minjae never drove Jieun into the corner by demanding to know where they stood. Neither of them ever wanted to know. Neither wanted more than they were.

Sometimes she visits out of the blue. Her arrival is usually announced with a vague text before he hears the knock on his door. Minjae knows she’s upset about something, but he never asks what. It would be like opening the door for her to bolt and he doesn’t want to give her another reason to run.

“You have a freckle below your right eye.”

Minjae squints, observing Jieun’s face. The only light comes from the city outside, and artificial glare washes over her skin with an odd hue. They’re both lying down on his bed, opposite to each other as they point out features they’re already well aware exist. He sighs.

“The background music you chose is really distracting.”

“The bagpipes?” She closes her eyes, exhaling softly. “I thought it would put you right to sleep.”

“Speaking of-- are you going to sleep in my jacket? If you drool on it, it’s yours.”

Jieun looks at him. Minjae immediately recognizes that glance.

“You wouldn’t…” His feigned disgust become genuine. “Ahhh… you would.”

She wraps herself up tighter, pulling at the collar so only her eyes show. He drags the zipper up to her nose and does not bother to decipher the muffled protest underneath fabric. Jieun closes her eyes, hands curled under her head. Minjae drags a blanket up over her shoulders.

“Do you think we love each other?”

Silence invades the space between these two people. Minjae half expects Jieun to flee the room after his question. Either with a half-serious joke or excusing herself to the bathroom and never coming back. Instead, she purses her lips and then wrinkles her nose.

“Romantic love--”

It’s a question she hangs in the air for him to pluck at.

“No, of course not,” he immediately disagrees, making her laugh before he even follows up with, “that’s gross.”

Silence again before she nods once, and then twice. He starts to nod along with her and stops right when she stops.

Jieun watches him thoughtfully.

“What do you want to do about it?”

Minjae shifts so his head rests in the crook of his arm.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Jieun repeats.

The music stops, shuffling automatically. It’s string instrumental this time. The rhythm starts to pull Minjae’s thoughts in another direction as his eyes drift closed. He feels her fingers card through his hair, brushing bangs to the side of his face.

✉: For a regular text message from my muse.

♣: Here, have a not so regular (maybe even a dirty one) text message.

✍: For what my muse has written about yours in their diary.

✎: For an unsent letter from my muse (May be AU if you want, just let me know what kind of AU you want).

☎: For a drunk phone call.

☏: How about a voice message from my muse?

♥: The favorites of my muse- can be anything from music to sex positions, you're allowed to specify what you want.

∞: A random headcanon about my muse and yours.

☯: Here, have a hug from my muse.

☮: An argument I think my muse would have with yours.

♪: I've put all of my songs on shuffle- now I have to write a drabble involving our muses with the next song that comes on.

♬: Would you care to dance? My muse has to dance with yours.

♛: My muse is royalty for a day and you are their loyal subject- wait, what? What would my muse's reaction be to this idea?

♚: You are my master- hold on. What if my muse was the loyal subject, how would this go?

✖: Your muse is drowning in the bathtub when mine walks into the bathroom.

☠: Your muse has died, this is how mine reacts.

❂: My muse is clumsy and crashes into yours.

✈: Our muses are on a plane together, by accident or choice. This is what happens.

☢: It's too hot outside, how does my muse suggest our muses cool down?

ϟ: There's a storm going on and our muses are stuck together in a house- how will this go?

☂: It's pouring down and your muse forgot their umbrella, will my muse offer up theirs?

✧: Our muses went to eat out- where?

★: The stars are shining beautifully and my muse wants you to see them.

☾: It's in the middle of the night and my muse had a nightmare about yours- what does my muse do?

☼: The sun is shining bright and your muse got the bright idea of going out, does my muse agree with this?

☄: My muse is lost, luckily there is cellphone reception- does my muse dare to call yours for help?

♤: Our muses are playing a game, which kind and who is winning?

☻: Your muse got sunburnt, my muse didn't- how'd it happen and how'll mine help?

♒: Our muses are at the beach together, by accident or not, and yours was a bit too close to the waves- will my muse laugh or perhaps be helpful?

♦: Your muse asked mine to marry them, what's my muse's reaction?

◊: Your muse comes to mine, crying, how does my muse react?

✘: Scars aren't very pretty- my muse has to show you theirs.

It’s winter, and winters in Korea are different than the states. Every time he comes back, he’s wearing a new set of winter gear suited far better to New York’s cold. Tracking his inexperience with friendly foreigners all over the house of someone he met online, no less.

He was raised in a world where his mother preached caution. Constantly breathing down his neck about being careful. Never trust. Never give someone your vulnerability. Never be anything more than what you want people to remember.

It’s funny now considering his entire occupation is meeting strangers and having to predict their every move.

on most nights it starts just like this: phone pressed to her ear, tranquility in static connection, random quote echoing past the speaker in place of a standard ‘hey, hi, it’s me.’

it’s half past midnight here; cue the knowing perk of her lips when her phone gives a short buzz, lurks in extended silence as she lets the device illuminate the night-blue wash of her room. four seconds, then five. there’s something about the building anticipation, impending greeting a fluttering whir at the back of her throat.

she swipes across the screen, accepting the call.

“hi to you, too.”

she sits up, kicks back her sheets, laughter like quiet bells that bounce off empty walls. she’s slumping back into a bed of pillows in the next second, lethargic sigh at the tip of her tongue; not quite the thinking man, but close enough. “i’m feeling some type of way about these calls,” lower lip juts out as she mulls over the sequential unfolding of thoughts. “i mean… should you not? only you know what hurts you the most. giving up that kind of control is too much of a risk.” an idle pause here. at least she’s being honest.

“but hey— minjae?” knees to her chest, she curls up against the headboard, loose locks a cascading mess down her pillow, “i’m trying.” she sinks into her mattress, suddenly wishing to think a little less, feel a little more. “i think.. i am.”

like a comma at the end of a phrase, he lingers. here, there, in places she can never quite reach.

“you’d tell me if i was doing a shit job, right?”

he hates cigarettes. hates the smell, the way smoke camps in your mouth and sinks into the tiny cracks of your lungs. it feels almost permanent after one drag, one smoke, and one kiss from a smoker who only felt safe enough to retreat to bad habits with him. he had brushed his teeth five times and scrapped his tongue raw, yet he finds himself still tasting someone else’s cigarette and pausing as if he’d smoked again for the first time in years. but that’s not why his mouth feels so heavy right now.  “Shit...” he exhales, resting his head back against the windowsill. eyes are momentarily forgetting he’s not wearing a watch, and he stares down at his wrist dumbly and pulls at the short strands of hair over his forehead. Tugging over and over.. Maybe to just pause them both here, force the moment to go on longer. And-- mentally kick his own ass.

let's just all admit that he liked nic at some point

I hate you for making me explain this