HALF MOON

nothing comes remotely close to representing the quintessential college kid experience compared to this: lounging on the plush, (fake) grass in the school’s courtyard. they’ve got the cinematic parallels down pat- siwoo’s even gone through the effort to don a green plaid button-up, while derek’s in red. tacky? no doubt. then again, so are college movies.

mm, get high with a little help from my friends, warbles the quintessentially beat-up bluetooth speaker. siwoo laugh-chokes through a mouthful of turtle chips, drawing several disgusted looks from passerbys. blissfully unaware, he allows his head to sink into derek’s stomach, passing the bag overhead. nothing can deter his mood at this point, mind tuned to a pleasant buzz, (fake) grass tickling his ankles. 

“good one.” one hand absentmindedly brushes a couple of wayward crumbs off his chest. from this angle, he watches a squirrel race past and climb the big oak tree up ahead, past what seems to be a morbidly obese cat stuck in the high branches–

–huh?

“dude, are you seeing what i’m seeing?” 

it couldn't get any better than this. sun's up and he's blissed out, casually high as a kite with the slack grin to show for it. they've made a half-cross with their laid out bodies on the grass, siwoo's head a familiar weight on his person. smuggling in edibles (and etc.) to this part of the world is probably the least hero-like he's done, but now the pending consequences and cliches fly over him without so much as another dazed out blink.

“you laugh like it’s a joke but i’m serious.” derek hums, tugging the chip bag loose and shoving in a mouthful. new york’s as crazy as it gets, and he reaffirms it once again for the sixty-seven something-th time that they’ve known each other. a beat later though, and he cracks up just as hard mid-chew, and that doubles the judgement from bystanders who can’t be assed to mind their business, but really, who cares? certainly not derek, who for one thinks they’re actually cute as fuck in their matchy-matchy denim and converse.

the sound dies with a cough, his eyes lazily following where siwoo points, up up up, past the thick of the tree trunk and the gathering of branches. a breeze brushes by and he sees what quiver in its wake is a black cat with the wispiest of whiskers and tail. 

jinah still has a shot glass in her hand when she’s suddenly being dragged through a thick crowd of sweaty drunk (and/or high) clubgoers, which has her desperately trying not to spill anything on the sticky floor. when they’re finally outside, she realises her attempts were futile and only half a shot remains in the glass, even less when hyojin continues to drag her to the shoreline.

she drinks what’s left anyway, blissfully unaware of what was apparently at stake until she finds herself with a mouthful of sand. “what the fuck—” she splutters, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. it takes her a moment for everything to recalibrate and for her to realise that they just missed the last bus. “my bad.” 

still, she doesn’t bother getting up from the sand just yet.

“you know, i can probably just portal us back home.” she sits up way too quickly when that idea hits her and nearly falls back down when she attempts to stand up, the sand feeling like it’s all slipping away under her feet. “don’t worry, i’ve got it.”

dropping the shot glass, it takes every bit of concentration that jinah’s drunken self can muster at this point to generate a portal in front of them, illuminating the sand with a violet hue. directing a smug smile at hyojin, she nods towards their way back home. “you first, hot stuff.”

"mm yeah, way to state the obvious." hyojin scoffs, all too quick to follow up with a finger-flick, but her aiming's way off from jinah's pretty pretty forehead, and she's stopped short with reconsideration. well duh, makes sense doesn't it. there's no use to vertigo inducement in this predicament, not when the right amount of boozes guarantees the same spell of fawn legs and nausea. and she for one, is well over that part of the night.

so finger-flick turns into a flat palm that gives jinah a good smack on the back. “you’re so useful sometimes, you know?” she coos, before half-slumping against the pole of the bus stop to watch her do what she’s gotta do. hyojin’s grin grows in tandem with the radius of the portal that manifests out of thin air, until it’s a match for jinah’s own.

lazy afternoons are meant to laze. it’s in there in the name. hence why she finds herself lazing on a too-big bed, stretched out like the campus cat that occasionally takes her spot under her tree. frankly, jinah finds it a little unfair that siwan’s room is practically built for lazy afternoons with the window positioned just right for a sun basking session.

there’s little for her to say or do other than bask in the sunlight shining through the window beside them. she’s completely lost track of time and even dozed off a few times in the warmth, hardly shifting in her sprawled out position beside hyojin over the course of what feels like a few hours already.

nothing can interrupt this blissful state, until—

“hyo, why’s your knee so pointy?” 

her own voice cuts through the silence and she only moves slightly so that hyojin’s knee isn’t digging into her leg. jinah wonders if it’s payback for more or less scamming her friend into sunbathing in siwan’s room instead of going out like they both initially told her. 

she should’ve known better anyway.

she doesn't recall ever signing up for this, but maybe it was somewhere in the fine print the second they struck up this camaraderie. long story short, they're fun. only when they want to be. huge emphasis on only.

today isn't much of an exception.

being sandwiched between two snoozers isn't really the shtick of the problem, but when the kicker is the two of them being too damn tall for their own good, it leaves hyojin stuck in a tangle of gangly limbs and a blatant disregard for the personal bubble twofold. assholes.