blue eyes, white dragon

[ ... ]

One look around confirms that they haven’t, but she doesn’t bother to pry for the actual reason they’re in a hurry, expecting the answer to lie somewhere closer to the bar. In this state, she doubts Yongji can make it there and back without knocking something, or someone, over. 

“How are you feeling?” Which is to say, you look don’t look like you should be able to stand up right now. It seems the antics have taken a toll on both of them. 

yongji is here for one reason, and one reason only: to get absolutely shit-faced, and have a good fucking time. 

( okay. so that may be two reasons, but to yongji, they are one and the same, especially considering her current state. )

earlier, sebin had mentioned something about needing to go to the bathroom, and it’d made her roll her eyes, fully aware that she was doing everything possible to avoid... whatever this night was going to bring: chaos, disarray, and mess - conveniently, three of yongji’s favourite things. she conceded, nevertheless, stepping aside to let her friend pass as she finished off her third drink. 

but eventually, two minutes turned into three turned into five, and yongji was finished with sebin’s little disappearing act. 

she scoffs when sebin finally emerges from the bathroom, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her back to the bar, to the spot she’s settled in - conveniently between a fit looking guy with both arms covered in a sleeve of tattoos, a girl with a great ass. if yongji goes home without making out with at least one of them, she’ll consider tonight a failure. 

to everyone that i had threads / was plotting with, i’m pretty sure i’ve messaged all of u to touch base but in case i haven’t, i’m happy to continue any ongoing threads / plots because the changes i’ve made to yongji with the revamp aren’t so major that it warrants a full reset! if we don’t currently have something going and u would like to get to plotting lmk and i can chat w u in the ims or slide over my discord! i’m v excited to ( still ) be here!!!!! woo hooo!!

[ ... ]

“you’ve asked anyway,” he notes snidely, and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck as he mulls over it a bit. “don’t know.” does he ever? “maybe since you’ve seen worse of me. or maybe because i know you’ll love me regardless. i can just feel the overflowing affection whenever you cuss me out.” his words drip of sarcasm, a dumb grin on his face as he topples over, swinging an arm across her in a sloppy sort of bear hug. he leans his head against her shoulder too as part of his obnoxious theatrics and intends to retreat before she smacks the living daylight out of him; but ends up leaving it there because his head actually feels rather heavy now. “would you rather me go plague the rest of mankind? lord knows i can do that too.”

yongji holds back the sigh she wants to let out, and instead lets out a long, controlled breath. every word dohyun says sits tattooed on her insides, never to be forgotten, ready to fester into angst that will most definitely be expressed and taken out on on her poor, innocent drums at a later stage. 

she does, however, grace him with one of her signature glares when denial coats his reply, and the less-than-impressive euphemism to go along with it, tagging on a quiet, “i’d like to banish you to the shadow realm, idiot” to go with it. 

yongji hates the way ‘it’s not like we even dated’ makes her feel. it’s oddly bittersweet, because on the one hand, she has that reassurance that whatever he had with haera never made it that far; but on the other hand... it’s still in relation to haera nevertheless. her eyes drift over to her abandoned chocolate bar, mulling in the brief moment of silence that washes over the both of them. 

this sucks. dohyun sucks. haera fucking sucks. and yongji sucks too. 

she takes another sip of soju, and nearly spills some when he crashes into her, his arm and head heavy at her side. unsurprisingly, in an instant, she forgets why he’s here in the first place, why she’d been angry and annoyed just a moment ago. yongji considers — albeit very briefly — pushing him away, keeping up appearances, and all that. 

but this feels... really good. 

she allows herself the luxury of enjoying the added weight to her shoulder, the added warmth he brings that her apartment’s heater just can’t compare to. out of the corner of her eye, she can see his lips stretch in a smile, and despite how much she wants to, she avoids looking over and seeing it directly, knowing she’s too weak to keep her cool if she does. 

[ ... ]

“also, how did you know i got an std? damn. you must really be keeping tabs on me.” she lowers her voice, as though sharing the world’s most confidential piece of information, a devilish twinkle in her eye. “don’t tell anyone, but i think i might have gotten it from fucking your boyfriend.”  

once, in high school, yongji stared down a classmate who’d look at her friends wrong. she didn’t say a word, hardly moved an inch, made no expression until her classmate began to stutter halfway through whatever shitty story he was in the middle of telling his friends, trying so hard not to make eye contact with her, but ultimately failing. she would eventually smile, a grin so cheshire-like that her classmate stood up to go to the bathroom, tripping over a chair on his way out the door. 

yongji has half a mind to do the exact same thing right now. 

she chews slowly, deliberately, as haera speaks. truthfully, she’s not sure if she’s even properly listening, but she’s picking up enough words to get the general gist of what she’s trying to say. 

( actually, she almost has to give herself a pat on the back for not immediately lunging forward to grab haera’s hair for what she insinuates about their music. look at that character development! ) 

giggles bubble up from her throat, and it isn’t very long before giggles turn into laughter, and laughter turns into full blown cackles. yongji is almost certainly convinced that she might throw up from how hard she’s laughing and how little she’s breathing, most definitely causing heads to turn in the little italian restaurant they’re in. 

( it doesn’t phase her. why would it? eyes are always on her — she’s sure haera will share the same sentiment. ) 

“oh my g— oh my... god, i’m sorry,” she manages to say, hands clutching her stomach as she tries to focus on taking in oxygen. “ohh... i’m so sorry. god! god, girl, that’s just... oh man. you know what? i... i kinda feel bad.” 

yongji shakes her head with a soft chuckle, reaching for her root beer to take another sip before setting her glass back down, leaning back and supporting her weight with her palms, relaxed. 

[ ... ]

“there aren’t always reasons for liking someone, you know.” he studies her now, wondering if she does know — in all the years he’s known her, he doesn’t recall her ever fretting about shit like this — but whatever. good for her, he thinks. “but maybe that’s my type. people you fucking hate.” it’s a sick joke, accompanied by a slight, apologetic grin. “let me know if you have any other lifelong enemies, so i can hit them up too. knowing me, things won’t end well — so it’s kind of a win-win for us, no?”

yongji regrets asking the question the minute it's slipped past her lips. 

the noodles and chocolate in her mouth seem to lose all taste in an instant, leaving a bland mush on her tongue the more dohyun speaks. the lack of past tense does not go unnoticed with her — the idea that he still likes haera, even to this day, strikes her heart head like a cattle prod —and shifts the bland mush into bitter spicy and chocolate porridge. 

he should’ve just gone home. why didn’t he just go home? 

there aren’t always reasons for liking someone, you know.  oh boy, does she know. 

yongji chews out of sheer reflex, not really processing the way she absentmindedly stirs the noodles around in the styrofoam cup, staring at a fading stain in her rug where she’d spilled a glass of red wine sometime last year ( not usually her choice of alcohol — the stain serves as a reminder of that ). 

“you have pitiful taste in women, hyun,” she says. “i’m almost embarrassed to say i’m—” ‘your friend’? she doesn’t wanna say that. it feels wrong to say, like taking the lord’s name in vain in the middle of sunday mass. it feels like imminent crucifixion, because thou shalt not lie — and lie, yongji will not. “...associated to you.” 

every word she says is a futile attempt at making herself feel better, to maintain the wild child, spitfire, ‘i don’t give a damn’ facade that too many people have come to know her as. it doesn’t work, of course, but maybe another mouthful of ramen will. 

she sniffs and clears her throat, eating more noodles, not at all surprised that the salty, spicy, most-definitely-bad-for-her food has lost all it’s appeal. she slides the cup over to dohyun and takes the soju from his grasp, staring down at the chocolate, but even that looks unappetising. what a waste. snickers are her favourite too. 

“so now what? you’re gonna spend the next week... two weeks... maybe month moping around, thinking about haera, wondering ‘what if’, and wondering if you should or shouldn’t ‘accidentally’ end up at a pretty show again? maybe i should set up the futon, since you’ll be coming over every time you make another shitty decision at two in the morning, set up a nice little corner in my apartment where you can throw up and nurse your next ten hangovers.” 

with a sigh, yongji drops her half-eaten chocolate bar onto the coffee table, sinking back into the cushions of her sofa, feeling uncharacteristically... defeated. 

🎵 NOW PLAYING

A ( messy ) playlist curated by (formerly) known as’ drummer, baek ‘the korean female phil collins’ yongji.

[ ... ]

“you know what? i don’t know why i came to see you either…” his gaze and voice softens for a moment there, genuinely bewildered and more than a tinge apologetic, but he re-claims his adamancy. “guess drunk me thought getting chewed out by you would be hella enlightening. and it was. thank you for reminding me how big of a fucking idiot i am. for a second there, i’d nearly forgotten how just as usual, i bring all this shit upon myself.” he’s not being as sarcastic as he makes it sound. 

it's a miracle that yongji hasn’t fallen victim to the beast that is high blood pressure. it kills millions of people every year, and she should count her lucky stars that at twenty-five, she has not had a heart attack. 

right now, though, it sure feels like she’s about to have one — that, or she’s about to throw up. 

“oh yeah? well, shit, hyun. pass me your phone. let me check your email and make sure you haven’t signed up for their fucking newsletters. i’ve been on your side, idiot. i’ve sat on your goddamn couch — on my goddamn couch too! — listening to you say, ‘haera this, haera that’, and for what, huh? for you to mosey on over to a pretty show, go backstage to, apparently, ‘make amends’, and you’re surprised that she didn’t turn around and say, ‘i forgive you, nam dohyun! wine me, dine me, and make me yours!’? the devil forgives no one. so yeah, i’d say you’ve lost your fucking mind.” 

yongji pauses, and takes a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm herself before she raises her voice any further and finds herself having to deal with a noise complaint from her neighbours on top of all of this. she’s quietly muttering to herself when she wanders over to the kitchen, digs around drawers and cupboards until she’s pulled out a chocolate bar, ripping it open like it’s a matter of life and death. she lets out a slow breath, pinches the bridge of her nose when dohyun stands as if to leave. 

“sit your ass down. you’re not going anywhere,” yongji says, drifting back over to the sofa with a nudge to dohyun’s arm as she drops herself down onto the cushions, chocolate held between her teeth and soju bottle held between her thighs as she ties her hair back with the worn-out hair tie around her wrist. “better here than hyeju unnie’s place, i guess. she’ll rip your head off for waking her up, and your head is your second favourite part of your body. maybe the first. who knows.” 

the slightest hint of regret pokes at her, but she washes it down with soju and chocolate before it can manifest into anything tangible enough that she’ll need to address it. yongji’s eye drift over to her ramen, now probably lukewarm at best, noodles probably bloated and mushy. she reaches for it anyway, eating a mouthful to avoid having to bask in the silence that washes over her apartment, then takes a bite of chocolate. it’s a strange combination of flavours that makes no sense, but when does anything make sense — especially when it comes to anything between her and dohyun? 

[ ... ]

she saunters over to yongji’s table, glaringly slow and smug. “eating here all alone? the other members didn’t want to spend time with you? oh no, your new band going through shit too?” 

let the show begin.

yongji hasn't even eaten a bite of her pasta, but she’s ready to empty the contents of her stomach and then some. she contemplates pretending like she never saw her, putting her earphones back in, and enjoying her pasta in blissful ignorance. but then haera waves hello and it dawns on her that she would never be able to get away with it. 

boy, does she want to just... kick something right now. 

she takes a long, slow, and deliberate breath in, watching haera make her way over to her table. yongji’s ready for this, always on guard, exhausting herself with metaphorical eyes on the back of her head at all times, searching for any threat ( read: pretty and boys member(s) ). 

yongji keeps her face stoic, and deadpan, jaw taut and tense as haera speaks. she resists the urge to wince at the tinny ring in her voice, the buzz in her ear as irritating as haera’s presence itself. when haera finishes, she can’t help but scoff, standing to instead sit on the table, sneakers on the chair where she’d been sitting before. 

( the waiter, a regular audience member at (formerly) known as’ gigs, looks in their direction, confused. ) 

“damn. you see right through us, hey?” yongji chuckles, picking up her glass of root beer and taking a loud, obnoxious sip. “we are going through shit, yeah. and by ‘shit’, i do mean pretty and boys. see, we spoke to some of our fans after our gig last week — ‘cause, you know, we actually care about our audience and the people that listen to our music. anyway, they told us they went to one of you guys’ shows... wanted to see how the music is, now that the best members have gone. yeah, told us your songs sound like you guys are a bunch of drowning cats on the banks of the han river.” she shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “unfortunately, they played us one of your songs — well, about ten seconds of one. i couldn’t possibly listen to anymore. i might actually have some damage to my hearing because of it. so now, hyeju unnie and i are scoping out some good ear doctors. it’s surprisingly difficult to find one. apparently damage as a result of mediocre music played by average looking morons is quite a feat to treat.” 

yongji scratches the shell of her ear, shrugging. getting just that off her chest is so much of a relief that she looks down at her bowl of pasta and suddenly her appetite is back. she makes a show of twirling a mouthful of linguine around her fork, ‘accidentally’ dropping a spot of sauce precariously close to haera’s shoe when she eats her pasta. 

[ ... ]

          “what do you mean? i’m just here to do my laundry,” the statement sounds harmless enough, but the astringency that’s crept into her voice is hard to miss. the marked antagonism to it is blatant, purposeful even. sohee’s here for the theatrics tonight.

yongji counts three extra customers in the laundromat — two elderly women, and a college student with earphones wedged so far into his ears, he probably would not hear a nuclear bomb explode, too focused on his game. 

not many casualties for what’s about to ensue. 

she brings her feet down from the counter, saves her game and sets her console down before pushing herself up to stand, giving sohee a slow, deliberate once-over with what she hopes is a look that screams judgemental. 

“well. you must be fucking dumb,” yongji says, scoffing. “you’re gonna walk into a laundromat without any laundry?” 

she rolls her eyes, resisting the urge to sigh — for now. it’s pathetic, really, that sohee has come out of her way just to piss yongji off with her presence. ( she’s achieved that, of course, but like hell will yongji admit it. ) in an alternate universe, she supposes she’d be flattered by this misconstrued attention from her ‘replacement’; but this is reality, and in reality, she just wishes sohee would just never make her presence known. 

she shakes her head, and waves a hand dismissively, shooing sohee away while sitting back down to return to her virtual farm. surely sohee is smart enough to take the hint and realise that yongji is not in the mood today — it’s bad enough that she’d barely gotten any sleep last night, hearing her neighbours screaming about something she’s sure was far too insignificant for two-thirty in the goddamn morning; now she has to deal with this. 

baek “i don’t care if anyone follows me” yongji’s instagram


[ ... ]

But as he observes her face as much as he can without seeming weird, he fails to see any recognition of him on her own features. Which is good. He can swallow the discomfort and move on. He has to.

“Pretty cold out tonight, huh? Can’t believe it’s snowing again. Let’s head on up.”

yongji checks the time on her phone, loose grip on the pole doing enough to keep her balance in the carriage until the train pulls up to her stop. she’s not late by any means, but she avoids slowing down, just in case this new producer’s idea of ‘early’ is not the same as hers. 

she’s barely made it up the stairs and out of the station before she’s already lit a cigarette, earning herself a few stares from passersby who slow their own steps to watch a hot-headed, five foot girl zoom past, plumes of smoke slipping past her lips as she zips her jacket up completely without a hitch in her step. she’s nearing the filter of her cigarette by the time she’s found the right street, approaching the guy leaning up against the building, who she assumes is their new producer — or at least, someone associated with him. 

yongji greets him with a small nod as she exhales one last cloud of smoke, stamping out her spent cigarette with the tip of her sneaker. 

“the one and only,” she replies, flashing him a brief smile. “baek yongji. nice to meet you.” she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket in lieu of a handshake, affirming his statement with a soft hum, a soft pat to the back pocket of her jeans confirming her drumsticks have survived the journey, the way they’re poking her back an oddly comforting sensation. “yeah, it’s cold as fuck, hey? guess one of the advantages of being short means it takes more time for the snow to hit my head though.” 

yongji can’t help the weird feeling that hits her when she looks at fka’s new producer — moon jinhyuk, hyeju had told her his name was — but she pushes it aside; it’s more than likely his was a face that she’d seen at one of their shows or something. another person in the crowd at some point. nothing overly significant worth wracking her brain over. 

[ ... ]

“well here comes the end of the show, and she deadass looks me in the eyes and shouts something along the lines of ‘shoutout to the boy who broke my heart’ in front of the whole damn crowd. and then i do the only natural thing in that situation – go see her backstage after the show. and nothing really happens or anything. it just got me… thinking. and now, i think i should be scared. you think i should be scared?” his hands fall to his knees and he rubs them nervously, preparing himself for whatever tirade she has from him in response. and maybe that’s just what he wants, why he’s even here; for someone else to somehow tell him how to feel.

yongji should know better than to eat before dohyun speaks. she quickly finds herself coughing around a mouthful of noodles at his proposition, almost dropping her chopsticks at the weight of his head on her arm. 

( she very promptly ignores how the warm of his skin on her arm makes her feel some way. ignores it with every ounce of energy in her five-foot being. )

“you can sleep on the floor. how dare you even think you get the privilege of the sofa — or even the bed. my bed.” 

it’s a bad ruse at accepting his request to stay over for the night, and it’s a cowardly way of concealing how she’d never say no to him, how, if she had it her way, she’d be inviting him to spend the night in her bed to ward off his pending hangover. yongji doesn’t know how to maintain her resolve around dohyun anymore, and it pains her to admit that to herself. 

“well. ‘hoe’ is one way to put it,” she says, about to slide over the noodles his way but immediately stops, nails digging into the styrofoam as she digests the implications of his words. 

i ended up at a pretty and boys show. 

to her horror, dohyun keeps talking, but she has no one to blame but herself because she can’t deny that she asked for the details in the first place. to his credit, he avoids saying her name out loud, but it’s no use when yongji knows exactly who he’s talking about, can feel her body temperature rise, hands itching to shake — she holds her hands between her thighs to stop them, and it might be an uncharacteristically timid action on yongji’s behalf, the way she almost starts to curl into herself the longer dohyun speaks, but she can’t react yet. not yet. 

i think i should be scared. you think i should be scared?  yongji is. 

she turns to look at him when he finishes, face expressionless as his words sink in, and she deciphers the meaning woven between them. at this point, she has one of two options: a) fire up, as everyone would expect her to, or b) ...well, the opposite. 

it’s clear what option she needs to pick. yongji stands, pacing in her living room, clenching and unclenching her hands, ramen completely forgotten for now. 

[ ... ]

“I missed this feeling, y’know. The feeling after a good show with no expectations of what comes next, just kind of fucking basking.” She sighs, “anyways don’t you think it’s time you join our fellow feminist women and stop objectifying hot girls with daddy issues. They can’t help they were born to assholes.”

"sounds good to me." 

yongji easily lets hyeju lead her through the crowd, weaving through the sea of people watching the next band performing. she doesn’t waste a glance back to see if anyone is watching the both of them sneak out into the back alley, holding the door for hyeju before returning the plastic stool to its place. 

“jeez, it’s cold as hell,” she says, pulling the lapels of her jacket closed before taking the cigarette from hyeju, digging in her pockets for her lighter. 

she hums distractedly around her cigarette in response to hyeju’s statement, eyes fixed to the flame in front of her in a moment of concentration until her cigarette is lit. 

“well, yeah, unnie. it’s ‘cause we’re the shit.” 

it’s a matter-of-fact statement, and yongji wholeheartedly believes it to be true, even if it is shrouded in bias and favouritism. she doesn’t deny the wave of pride that washes over her every time they finish a set, looking out at the crowd and the back of her band mates’ heads as they leave the stage. she’s proud of the band, proud of how far they’ve come after years of bullshittery and fuckery, and most of all, she’s proud of their music. 

the cigarette she takes a drag from now is just the icing on the metaphorical cake that is her career. 

yongji squats down next to where hyeju is leaning against the building, looking down at the end of her cigarette and smiling to herself at hyeju’s sentiment. she agrees, of course; there’s a thrill that comes with the unknown, and yongji is nothing but a sucker for the unpredictable. the limbo between performing their last song and making the trek back home is one of the reasons she’s still around, why she never says no to hyeju when she suggests an extra practice session, knowing they could probably perform all their songs in their sleep flawlessly at this point — yongji swears sometimes her fingers do move in her sleep. 

[ ... ]

“do you think i might just be… doomed? cursed? perpetually fucked with romance? i might start looking into a life of celibacy. will make sure you get the invitation card when i make my vows,” he ponders deadpan, sinking back into the sofa.

yongji, absolutely deadpan, gives dohyun a once-over before she rolls her eyes and tell him, “you couldn’t be more wrong. you look like a bitch boy. a cheap one. a cheap bitch boy. god, and here i was thinking you had a shred of dignity left in you.” 

she finishes off her soda, haphazardly tosses it over to the bag of — surprise, surprise! — other empty soda cans in the corner of her kitchen. “my day was great until you came b—” 

the pause is abrupt, and cuts yongji off mid-sentence; at the mention of... haera’s name, she feels her blood boil and freeze simultaneously, hand on the door of her fridge. it’s one thing for yongji to have had to sit through that whole ordeal — it’s another thing to have to relive it all over again. and for what? to now have to deal with dohyun on her sofa, just like she has time and time again, and console him with words she doesn’t even believe in. “you’re gonna walk into my apartment, and talk about the spawn of satan? jesus, hyun, like it’s not bad enough that she’s in pretty and b— you know what? nope.” 

she had every intention of getting another can of soda; instead, she pulls out a bottle of soju, right before turning on the kettle and grabbing a new cup of instant noodles. 

“min haera out to get you? sounds exactly like something her petty ass would do.” 

her words don’t convey even half of the hostility she feels, and she knows the food and alcohol won’t do anything to wash away the bitterness that sits on her tongue, but it doesn’t stop her from mixing a packet of sauce into sodium-packed noodles, walking over to the sofa to sit down next to dohyun. 

yongji can remember very clearly the last time she crossed paths with haera, can still taste the two packets of cigarettes and half-bottle of gin she smoked and drank in a sad attempt to drown out the acrid taste in her throat that built up as she watched red-tinted lips yap away like a chihuahua. she couldn’t shake the idea of those lips whispering in dohyun’s ears in dingy bars and clubs, and even now, the thought leaves her stomach churning. 

perpetually fucked with romance. 

dohyun doesn’t even know how much yongji can relate to that.