INFRARED

how did sieon end up in such a predicament? one minute he’s at home, studying for his csat exam, and the next he’s on… a double date? well, it wasn’t a double date, but he went along with it considering the real goal was to see what kangdae had been up to. 

the elder always updated sieon and jihyun on his life in seoul, which included frequent updates on his love life. although sieon was the type to not be interested in the details of another’s private life, he was just happy to hear from his fellow friend. thus, when kangdae asked him to come out of his room to meet his new girlfriend, sieon quickly hopped on the opportunity. besides, a quick meal with some friends never hurt anybody, right? now here the four of them were, having a chat over a meal together in yunhwa. sieon kept to himself, per usual, as he let the happy couple share their story. he tried his best not to get distracted from the unsettling energy coming from his right side. 

and no, he wasn’t going to acknowledge the loud whispers that also were being forced into his ear ( coincidentally coming from the same side ). he was just simply going to pretend he was in an island far, far away. perhaps the galápagos? it didn’t matter to sieon, as long as he could pretend he wasn’t in such an awkward situation.  

still. STILL... still. he’s hers. 

that’s right. you heard it folks!  with the prowess of a spoilt child, even the dolls she no longer holds to her chest day and night has no rights in being picked up by another. and if you don’t get the analogy here, dear readers, then, that’s on you.

so when the inevitable came—dinner with kangdae and his newest beau (and it’s unclear here, what they’re feeding the girls in seoul for them to all look the exact same like that, but she has a theory, of course; she always does), jihyun jumped at the chance. the addition of sieon only sweetening the ordeal. she loved an audience, even if sieon was unresponsive as they came.

not that it matters, jihyun didn’t speak to get a response from him as much as she was just speaking for the sake of sharing her gospel. her doctrine of how nice hot country boys like shin kangdae can never differentiate plastic from the real deal. which leaves her with what, exactly? beyond the noble act of showing him the light.

starting with that quadruple padded bra under that knitted top.

although the stall space at bimikil market isn’t exactly owned by yoogeon considering they’re all rented spaces - or so he thinks, he honestly doesn’t know and hasn’t invested much time into that aspect yet - he’s still holding himself accountable to seeing through that it’s cleaned out and anything left behind is sorted properly. he’s hoping that there won’t be many things to pack up or left behind and is trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. granted, wearing a black jacket and hat will probably make him stand out but at least it’ll give off the feeling that he wants to be left alone. right?

either way, yoogeon figures that as long as he doesn’t make eye contact with anyone and walks as briskly as he can he’ll be in the area for a total of ten minutes. fifteen max if there are more than five boxes to carry out. along with pretending to be on his phone, he’s definitely minimizing the opportunities for anyone to call out to him to ‘look at this’ or 'try this food’ and whatever other dingy things the stall owners are trying to sell.

it’s a perfect plan if yoogeon is honest with himself. that is until he’s walking towards a stall and makes the mistake of looking at who’s behind it and suddenly he’s little thirteen year old yoogeon.

'come on, just tell me who you think is cutest of the girls here!’

despite the scene playing so clearly in his mind in that exact same spot, yoogeon can’t remember who in the world was asking him because one, he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about being in yunhwa. two, he wasn’t too excited at the thought of revealing who he thought was cute at the sensitive age of thirteen. and three, kim jihyun was definitely cute and someone yoogeon had noticed on more than one occasion whenever she was at bimikil but he had never actually really talked to or interacted with her.

and before yoogeon has realized it, he’s found himself standing at the front of the stall with his phone no longer near his ear like he had planned. simply wide-eyed and surprised at himself for having moved subconsciously, all he can manage is a single awkward greeting.

it’s same old same old. nothing really changes in yunhwa. for the last 24 years, it’s been the same ahjumma greeting her at the corner mart and the same kids (different faces, same difference) pouring their coins into the worn out gachapon out front. jihyun supposes that’s the charm of yunhwa, life preserved in time—whimsical and all that for those who aren’t from here (or those who are over 25), but for her? 

                                                                                                                                     god. god. 

if a meteor one day struck and wiped this booger of a town off the map—no one would even know.

she might even be glad.

i mean—just think about it! hark! here lies kim jihyun, young and beautiful and dead before she amounted to anything but free at least. wouldn’t that be nice?

maybe. probably. most likely.

jihyun can’t help but think it’s a waste (of her face, her charm, her skills(?))—but then again so is staying holed up in yunhwa, facing the same people (tourists don’t count, they’re all blurred faces anyway) day to day.

but speaking of never meeting anyone new...

                                                                                                                                    “hi, there...”

“hi!” the chirp is standard, business professional (so, you know, lots of pep) as she’s pushing a stray lock of hair away with the back of her hand, in the process of frying up a fresh batch for the upcoming rush. jihyun glances up belatedly at the lack of answer, brow raising at the glaring familiarity in his face. but for the time being, she doesn’t pick up on it. simply gestures vaguely to the empty stools with a bright smile.

finally. finally, it was time for a break - perhaps one that could be considered longer than the average but when your family owns the place you work at, you could get away with it. his mom had told yunho as much anyways, that he could take a bit more time to eat or do whatever he wanted before having to return and take over the stall again. ‘you’ve earned it,’ she said with a soft–and tired–smile, for working quite literally, all day, while she was looking after his dad. he had fallen asleep for the moment which freed up a bit of her time which meant she offered (or demanded, more like) to watch over the stall and sent yunho away.

he appreciated it, really he did, but he still somehow felt bad. yunho wanted to help his parents out as much as he can after all they’ve done for him but it’s hard for him to deny that without food in his stomach, he wouldn’t have the energy to last and his mom didn’t need another sick person to take care of when she was already doing so much, so he grinned back, nodded, and set off to find something to eat.

his feet led him throughout the market, hungry eyes roaming the stalls he passed for something that he wanted to eat when yunho hears someone call his name. pausing, he turns to see who it is and finds it’s someone he knows well - or used to, he guesses? he hasn’t talked to or visited them much if he’s being honest, even since returning to yunhwa a year ago, but that was intentional on his part, considering certain circumstances. in fact, he almost wants to pretend he didn’t hear anything at all and turn right around and walk away but unfortunately, his presence had already been noticed and so he has no choice but to walk over to the stall where he was called from, a hesitant and slightly strained smile on his face as he approaches.

“hi, sir,” yunho greets once he arrives, nodding his head slightly in a bow towards the older man. there’s a nervous tone to his voice, like he’s treading on thin ice and needs to behave with trepidation, and he’s peering around as if looking for someone - not because he wants to see them but more so he can avoid them. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to spot the person in question so he affords himself a small, but relieved sigh, and the tension in his shoulders relax a little.

and jihyun, especially—who has grown from sunday afternoons wrapping misshapen mandus with mom to doing majority of which (perfect and pristine, a skill honed over time) by her lonesome—will never grow tire of them. 

                                                                                    at least, that’s what she’ll tell herself.

what else can she say? 

                          this isn’t my passion. this isn’t what i want. this isn’t my legacy.

                                                                                                                                      as if.

no, our dutiful daughter plays her role beautifully. wakes up at the crack of dawn and preps breakfast while mom and dad sleeps. eats and drives out to the market (sometimes with dad) to set up shop. by lunch, she’s heading home to tend to mom. by night, she’s back for the night crowd. it works like this, without fail, since she’s been old enough to work—since she’s had to return early from college to ailing parents who are unable to handle the work and prep on their own. and it’ll continue to work like this—with a dull minacious ticking looming in the very back of her mind; that she realizes, when she stills enough to hear it, resembles the sound of life passing her by—till what? the end of time?

yeah. the end of time.

because otherwise? her only way out otherwise? the possible price of freedom from yunhwa and all the responsibilities that come with it? she doesn’t want to think about it. 

but—perhaps that’s a step too far into a future no one can predict. so, let’s take it back to modern day. as in today. as in, another world shattering realization when she returns from home, thin arms hoisting a basin filled to the brim with ddeok: an enemy has breached her stall.

more specifically (and one cannot possibly explain how she knows from just the back of  his head but she knows. and she knows he knows she knows so—what the fuck is he doing here??), noh yunho.

“dad!” but he’s lucky, he’s lucky. lucky that she catches sight of dad’s grey hairs quick enough to wipe the glower from her face and replace it with one of an unassuming sunspot. no need to pull her parents into drama between the two of them. but is it really still drama after all this time? well. did he or did he not leave her to flop in seoul? “can you help me put this in the back? i’ll—uh—man the shop, you can go to lunch.” she hopes she isn’t too obvious, that the slightest grit of her molars is left unnoticed. 

but for the most part, dad merely smiles—presumably unassuming of the underlying tension as he takes the basin, nods to the boy standing beside his daughter, and disappears to the back; leaving the two standing in absolute silence.

and then, almost hilarious the way her picture perfect smile slides off her face, jihyun redirects her attention to the shameless bastard standing next to her; expression uncharacteristically stiff for someone like her.  “sit." she gestures wordlessly with a kick to the leg of the chair, momentarily pleased with the way it knocks against his shoe. 

petty. you’re being so petty right now kim jihyun, the voice in her head chirps disapprovingly. 

                                                      oh fuck you! so what?