the monster without a name. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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milkcrisis2012-02-08 11:17 pm
molt) wrote in milkcrisis2012-02-08 11:17 pm
Entry tags:
walk it off. there. i said it.
AN ACCIDENTAL SWEETNESS, the greatest love, unrequited se ri/ae jung, mentions of ae jung/dok ko jin. kind of still want to write a sequel were ae jung and se ri kiss. unbetaed forever, and i am starting to hate the beginning already. also wow, i overuse the word 'fact' a lot.
The truth is, back in their National Treasure Girls days, Ae Jung-unnie was just about Se Ri’s favourite person. She was the National Treasure Girls’ rock, and their cheerleader, and their friend all at once, and Se Ri used to like that just before the lights went on for their performances, she could seek out Ae Jung-unnie’s hand for reassurance, and it would be there, open and waiting. Ae Jung-unnie always made her feel safe, and cared for, like some sort of remnant from Se Ri’s childhood—a stuffed toy, or the coat her father had given her when she was thirteen, which still fit if she took a deep breath and held it. It didn’t make sense, because she hadn’t known Ae Jung-unnie that long, but that’s the way it was.
When they were trainees Se Ri knew that if she stayed up late, Ae Jung-unnie would be the one to stay up with her and help if she needed it, despite that fact that she worked harder than any of them, and by the time Se Ri was done with her homework, Ae Jung-unnie was falling asleep where she sat.
But being in the spotlight did something to them, to all of them. In Se Ri’s case, it was not being in the spotlight, back then. She’d always been ambitious, and that was no secret, but she’d been ready to settle and compromise, just not—not for the last spot, and that was what she’d gotten. And it wasn’t just that. It was the schedule, and the fact that she still had homework, and little things, like the fact that if Se Ri messed up a dance step, the manager wouldn’t let her vote count when they were deciding what to eat after a performance, and the fact that she usually got last pick for their outfits.
Ae Jung-unnie got stretched thin, too; that was obvious to all of them—all her extra activities, and the supplementary practices, and keeping secrets for each and every one of them, and trying to keep a smile on her face despite the fact that she could barely stand sometimes. It’s not like Ae Jung-unnie is blameless, either. She got snappy, more and more often, and she never had time to help Se Ri with her assignments anymore, or even time to just talk to her as often as she wanted.
To be completely fair, Ae Jung-unnie would make the effort, when she saw that Se Ri really did need to talk, and she tried to be there for the most difficult parts, for the unflattering articles, for the scathing comments and the overanalyzed pictures, but Se Ri didn’t just want her then. She wanted Ae Jung-unnie’s attention most, if not all, of the time, and Jenny-unnie had talked about it to her once, taken her aside and told her, no nonsense as ever, you can't hog her for yourself, because between our job and the three of us, she barely has any time left for herself, and I know you like her a lot, with a heavy, understanding gaze, like she could read Se Ri as easy as pie, but I don't know if—and Se Ri had wrenched her arms out of Jenny-unnie’s grip with a grunt, and accidentally hit Mi Na as she walked past.
That had been the first fight she’d had with Ae Jung-unnie. She’d berated Se Ri, with a very light voice, and told her to be more careful with all the members—it wouldn’t do to have someone get injured just because Se Ri was waving her arms about like a loon, even though that was always endearing of her. She’d been trying to be so nice, and so understanding, and it had grated on Se Ri so much, because she could tell that Ae Jung-unnie was holding back on what she really wanted to say, and it had never felt as false between them as it did at that moment.
She’d hated it. And she’d decided to do something annoying on purpose, to see if Ae Jung-unnie would tell her the truth, this time, and then it had become a habit, a test she set herself—could she mess with the manager’s wallet and get away with it? Could she borrow—steal—borrow Jenny-unnie’s favourite lipgloss without her noticing? Could she bum a smoke from a member of a popular boyband without letting on that she didn’t actually smoke, and that she, in fact, thought it was a little disgusting? Could she make Ae Jung-unnie stop lying about what was worrying her?
It all makes sense now, of course. Now that she knows the whole story. Now that they’re all friends again—and isn’t that so strange, and strangely relieving all at the same time, because Se Ri had thought she’d never see any of them again, but she’d missed them, even if she hadn’t let herself think about it. She’d missed Mi Na’s quiet amusement at the world, and the feeling the National Treasure Girls were excluded from that amusement, and in fact, were in on the joke, and Mi Na wasn’t laughing, and would never, laugh at them. She’d missed Jenny-unnie’s blatant flirting with anyone who caught her attention, and the way she didn’t let anyone get away with anything iffy without a frank comment from her. And she’d missed—she’d missed Ae Jung-unnie. She’d missed so much about Ae Jung-unnie.
They go shopping, the four of them, and Se Ri wears sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, but people still stop her for pictures. She gets a little nervous, and that doesn’t happen to her, normally, but Mi Na squeezes her hand gently while the girls who stopped her check themselves in their pocket mirrors. Jenny-unnie offers to take the picture. She catches Ae Jung-unnie’s eye as she’s hugging the girls and telling them to work hard at school, and she looks for—resentment, maybe. Jealousy. Instead, Ae Jung-unnie looks a little wistful, and nostalgic.
“Remember when we used to wear outfits like those girls’?”
Ae Jung-unnie brings it up when they’ve stopped for coffee, and most of all, a rest. Even Jenny-unnie has confessed that her shopping stamina isn’t what it used to be.
“Oh, yes,” Mi Na says, “the ones with the green blazer were my favourites!”
Jenny-unnie is shaking her head, “No, those were awful! The collar alone!” She pauses to mouth at her straw. “Mm—and remember, one time, the shirt buttons popped off?”
“That was just you, unnie,” Se Ri reminds her, and aims a pointed glance at her breasts.
“Why you little—,” Jenny-unnie puts down her iced coffee, and makes as if to get up and strangle Se Ri from across the table.
“Children, please,” Ae Jung-unnie says, in her leader voice, which is laced with barely suppressed laughter, as it always used to be, and then it actually does turn into laughter.
Se Ri can’t help watching her.
Sometimes she feels this awful, sharp pinch of, well, something she doesn’t want to examine too closely when she sees Ae Jung-unnie and Dok Ko Jiin together. And it’s not for Dok Ko Jin, because that was over before it started. She likes him as a person, too, a lot, actually, but she just—she knows Ae Jung-unnie well enough to understand what the public might never catch on to: that Dok Ko Jin is the really lucky one.
She can admit that to herself, now that she’s going to be one of their bridesmaids, and can call herself their friend. Se Ri views it as a universal truth: the sky is blue, Dok Ko Jin is lucky to have Gu Ae Jung as his fiancee, and soon, his wife. Ae Jung-unnie is smart, and stubborn, and funny, and determined, and her face when something good and unexpected happens is radiant and stunning, and Dok Ko Jin is incredibly, stupidly lucky to have her. And he knows it, too.
So. She doesn’t want to look too closely at that thing, at that little pain she gets, because even though she has always been remarkably good at lying to herself, she already knows what it is, and it’s—inconvenient. Unnecessary, now. Ae Jung-unnie is happy. Se Ri has been happy, and she likes her doctor a lot, too, enough that she doesn’t mind making a fool of herself in front of him—or, at least, doesn’t mind as much anymore—even though he makes it hard for her. So it’s fine.
It used to be that Ae Jung-unnie and Se Ri would be the first ones in for practice. Jenny-unnie always slept in a little, and Mi Na didn’t like her going to practice alone, so she’d wave them out the door, and stay behind, waiting for her.
Their punctuality hasn’t changed. They’re the first ones there, just outside the restaurant, and Ae Jung-unnie does that nervous shrug thing, like she’s still not too sure what she’s allowed to do, even though they’ve been friends-again for a few months now, then heaves a great big, courage-gathering sigh and laces her arm through Se Ri’s. They go in together.
They get a table in the back, for Se Ri, Ae Jung-unnie says, teasingly, and Se Ri rejoins with, but for Ae Jung-unnie too, because I know your program is doing very well. Ae Jung-unnie’s blush reaches down to her neck, and probably lower, but she says thank you, and stands straighter, because she can own her successes, too.
Se Ri orders water, and Ae Jung-unnie orders a soda Se Ri has done advertising work for, so Se Ri’s face is on the can, and Ae Jung-unnie raises her eyebrows and nods, good job, Kang Se Ri.
“That shoot was terrible,” Se Ri confesses, haltingly, at first. “It took hours, and the director kept insisting I couldn’t get my face right.”
“Is that so? Hmm. Maybe,” Ae Jung-unnie says, brows furrowed, “you should have done this?”
She makes one of the faces Se Ri had to make in their first big photoshoot, which had become legendary for them. National Treasure Girls lore, Jenny-unnie had assured her. Se Ri gasps in mock shock at Ae Jung-unnie’s gall, and they both laugh until Se Ri gets herself under control because she’s spilled a little water on her shirt.
Ae Jung-unnie gets up and sits on Se Ri’s side of the table, napkin in hand.
“You used to do that,” Se Ri finds herself saying. “You used to clean my shirt whenever I spilled things on it.”
Ae Jung-unnie laughs, low and comfortable. “National Treasure Girls have a standard of cleanliness to live up to, Se Ri!”
When she’s done, Ae Jung-unnie still doesn’t go back to her seat, and Se Ri is about to make a clumsy joke, but Ae Jung-unnie says, “You know, I never said thank you.”
“Eh?”
“Your interview. You could have said—but you didn’t, and it—thank you. It was nice.”
“Unnie. It took a while, but we’re friends again. And friends do nice things for each other, all the time,” Se Ri says, a little hurt. “And I’m not—I’m not heartless, you know.” Even though sometimes I like to pretend, she doesn’t add.
Ae Jung-unnie looks at her, and her eyes go soft like she heard what Se Ri didn’t add anyway, because she knows her that well, and Se Ri swallows, hard. Ae Jung-unnie hugs her. Se Ri is paralyzed for a second before she relaxes into it, and starts to hug back.
“You’re right,” Ae Jung-unnie says. “You were always a good kid, Se Ri.”
And so—maybe it’s true, what they say. About first loves. Because she’d looked at boys, and sometimes, when she’d thought no one would see, at girls, too, but Ae Jung-unnie had been something different for her. Something that made her heart hurt, like it hurts now. She hugs Ae Jung-unnie tighter, and it hurts a little less. She can’t have what she’d wanted when she was younger, what she sometimes still wants now when she allows herself to think about it, but she can have this, and this is fine, too. This is good. It’s wonderful, actually.
“Ahh,” Se Ri says, pulling back. She forces herself not to blink too much, or Ae Jung-unnie will spot that her eyes are a little wet. She feels like it’s obvious anyway. “When are these unnies going to get here? They’re always so late, it’s embarrassing.”
Ae Jung-unnie laughs and pats Se Ri’s knee. “Thank God there’s the two of us, then, right?”
The truth is, back in their National Treasure Girls days, Ae Jung-unnie was just about Se Ri’s favourite person. She was the National Treasure Girls’ rock, and their cheerleader, and their friend all at once, and Se Ri used to like that just before the lights went on for their performances, she could seek out Ae Jung-unnie’s hand for reassurance, and it would be there, open and waiting. Ae Jung-unnie always made her feel safe, and cared for, like some sort of remnant from Se Ri’s childhood—a stuffed toy, or the coat her father had given her when she was thirteen, which still fit if she took a deep breath and held it. It didn’t make sense, because she hadn’t known Ae Jung-unnie that long, but that’s the way it was.
When they were trainees Se Ri knew that if she stayed up late, Ae Jung-unnie would be the one to stay up with her and help if she needed it, despite that fact that she worked harder than any of them, and by the time Se Ri was done with her homework, Ae Jung-unnie was falling asleep where she sat.
But being in the spotlight did something to them, to all of them. In Se Ri’s case, it was not being in the spotlight, back then. She’d always been ambitious, and that was no secret, but she’d been ready to settle and compromise, just not—not for the last spot, and that was what she’d gotten. And it wasn’t just that. It was the schedule, and the fact that she still had homework, and little things, like the fact that if Se Ri messed up a dance step, the manager wouldn’t let her vote count when they were deciding what to eat after a performance, and the fact that she usually got last pick for their outfits.
Ae Jung-unnie got stretched thin, too; that was obvious to all of them—all her extra activities, and the supplementary practices, and keeping secrets for each and every one of them, and trying to keep a smile on her face despite the fact that she could barely stand sometimes. It’s not like Ae Jung-unnie is blameless, either. She got snappy, more and more often, and she never had time to help Se Ri with her assignments anymore, or even time to just talk to her as often as she wanted.
To be completely fair, Ae Jung-unnie would make the effort, when she saw that Se Ri really did need to talk, and she tried to be there for the most difficult parts, for the unflattering articles, for the scathing comments and the overanalyzed pictures, but Se Ri didn’t just want her then. She wanted Ae Jung-unnie’s attention most, if not all, of the time, and Jenny-unnie had talked about it to her once, taken her aside and told her, no nonsense as ever, you can't hog her for yourself, because between our job and the three of us, she barely has any time left for herself, and I know you like her a lot, with a heavy, understanding gaze, like she could read Se Ri as easy as pie, but I don't know if—and Se Ri had wrenched her arms out of Jenny-unnie’s grip with a grunt, and accidentally hit Mi Na as she walked past.
That had been the first fight she’d had with Ae Jung-unnie. She’d berated Se Ri, with a very light voice, and told her to be more careful with all the members—it wouldn’t do to have someone get injured just because Se Ri was waving her arms about like a loon, even though that was always endearing of her. She’d been trying to be so nice, and so understanding, and it had grated on Se Ri so much, because she could tell that Ae Jung-unnie was holding back on what she really wanted to say, and it had never felt as false between them as it did at that moment.
She’d hated it. And she’d decided to do something annoying on purpose, to see if Ae Jung-unnie would tell her the truth, this time, and then it had become a habit, a test she set herself—could she mess with the manager’s wallet and get away with it? Could she borrow—steal—borrow Jenny-unnie’s favourite lipgloss without her noticing? Could she bum a smoke from a member of a popular boyband without letting on that she didn’t actually smoke, and that she, in fact, thought it was a little disgusting? Could she make Ae Jung-unnie stop lying about what was worrying her?
It all makes sense now, of course. Now that she knows the whole story. Now that they’re all friends again—and isn’t that so strange, and strangely relieving all at the same time, because Se Ri had thought she’d never see any of them again, but she’d missed them, even if she hadn’t let herself think about it. She’d missed Mi Na’s quiet amusement at the world, and the feeling the National Treasure Girls were excluded from that amusement, and in fact, were in on the joke, and Mi Na wasn’t laughing, and would never, laugh at them. She’d missed Jenny-unnie’s blatant flirting with anyone who caught her attention, and the way she didn’t let anyone get away with anything iffy without a frank comment from her. And she’d missed—she’d missed Ae Jung-unnie. She’d missed so much about Ae Jung-unnie.
They go shopping, the four of them, and Se Ri wears sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, but people still stop her for pictures. She gets a little nervous, and that doesn’t happen to her, normally, but Mi Na squeezes her hand gently while the girls who stopped her check themselves in their pocket mirrors. Jenny-unnie offers to take the picture. She catches Ae Jung-unnie’s eye as she’s hugging the girls and telling them to work hard at school, and she looks for—resentment, maybe. Jealousy. Instead, Ae Jung-unnie looks a little wistful, and nostalgic.
“Remember when we used to wear outfits like those girls’?”
Ae Jung-unnie brings it up when they’ve stopped for coffee, and most of all, a rest. Even Jenny-unnie has confessed that her shopping stamina isn’t what it used to be.
“Oh, yes,” Mi Na says, “the ones with the green blazer were my favourites!”
Jenny-unnie is shaking her head, “No, those were awful! The collar alone!” She pauses to mouth at her straw. “Mm—and remember, one time, the shirt buttons popped off?”
“That was just you, unnie,” Se Ri reminds her, and aims a pointed glance at her breasts.
“Why you little—,” Jenny-unnie puts down her iced coffee, and makes as if to get up and strangle Se Ri from across the table.
“Children, please,” Ae Jung-unnie says, in her leader voice, which is laced with barely suppressed laughter, as it always used to be, and then it actually does turn into laughter.
Se Ri can’t help watching her.
Sometimes she feels this awful, sharp pinch of, well, something she doesn’t want to examine too closely when she sees Ae Jung-unnie and Dok Ko Jiin together. And it’s not for Dok Ko Jin, because that was over before it started. She likes him as a person, too, a lot, actually, but she just—she knows Ae Jung-unnie well enough to understand what the public might never catch on to: that Dok Ko Jin is the really lucky one.
She can admit that to herself, now that she’s going to be one of their bridesmaids, and can call herself their friend. Se Ri views it as a universal truth: the sky is blue, Dok Ko Jin is lucky to have Gu Ae Jung as his fiancee, and soon, his wife. Ae Jung-unnie is smart, and stubborn, and funny, and determined, and her face when something good and unexpected happens is radiant and stunning, and Dok Ko Jin is incredibly, stupidly lucky to have her. And he knows it, too.
So. She doesn’t want to look too closely at that thing, at that little pain she gets, because even though she has always been remarkably good at lying to herself, she already knows what it is, and it’s—inconvenient. Unnecessary, now. Ae Jung-unnie is happy. Se Ri has been happy, and she likes her doctor a lot, too, enough that she doesn’t mind making a fool of herself in front of him—or, at least, doesn’t mind as much anymore—even though he makes it hard for her. So it’s fine.
It used to be that Ae Jung-unnie and Se Ri would be the first ones in for practice. Jenny-unnie always slept in a little, and Mi Na didn’t like her going to practice alone, so she’d wave them out the door, and stay behind, waiting for her.
Their punctuality hasn’t changed. They’re the first ones there, just outside the restaurant, and Ae Jung-unnie does that nervous shrug thing, like she’s still not too sure what she’s allowed to do, even though they’ve been friends-again for a few months now, then heaves a great big, courage-gathering sigh and laces her arm through Se Ri’s. They go in together.
They get a table in the back, for Se Ri, Ae Jung-unnie says, teasingly, and Se Ri rejoins with, but for Ae Jung-unnie too, because I know your program is doing very well. Ae Jung-unnie’s blush reaches down to her neck, and probably lower, but she says thank you, and stands straighter, because she can own her successes, too.
Se Ri orders water, and Ae Jung-unnie orders a soda Se Ri has done advertising work for, so Se Ri’s face is on the can, and Ae Jung-unnie raises her eyebrows and nods, good job, Kang Se Ri.
“That shoot was terrible,” Se Ri confesses, haltingly, at first. “It took hours, and the director kept insisting I couldn’t get my face right.”
“Is that so? Hmm. Maybe,” Ae Jung-unnie says, brows furrowed, “you should have done this?”
She makes one of the faces Se Ri had to make in their first big photoshoot, which had become legendary for them. National Treasure Girls lore, Jenny-unnie had assured her. Se Ri gasps in mock shock at Ae Jung-unnie’s gall, and they both laugh until Se Ri gets herself under control because she’s spilled a little water on her shirt.
Ae Jung-unnie gets up and sits on Se Ri’s side of the table, napkin in hand.
“You used to do that,” Se Ri finds herself saying. “You used to clean my shirt whenever I spilled things on it.”
Ae Jung-unnie laughs, low and comfortable. “National Treasure Girls have a standard of cleanliness to live up to, Se Ri!”
When she’s done, Ae Jung-unnie still doesn’t go back to her seat, and Se Ri is about to make a clumsy joke, but Ae Jung-unnie says, “You know, I never said thank you.”
“Eh?”
“Your interview. You could have said—but you didn’t, and it—thank you. It was nice.”
“Unnie. It took a while, but we’re friends again. And friends do nice things for each other, all the time,” Se Ri says, a little hurt. “And I’m not—I’m not heartless, you know.” Even though sometimes I like to pretend, she doesn’t add.
Ae Jung-unnie looks at her, and her eyes go soft like she heard what Se Ri didn’t add anyway, because she knows her that well, and Se Ri swallows, hard. Ae Jung-unnie hugs her. Se Ri is paralyzed for a second before she relaxes into it, and starts to hug back.
“You’re right,” Ae Jung-unnie says. “You were always a good kid, Se Ri.”
And so—maybe it’s true, what they say. About first loves. Because she’d looked at boys, and sometimes, when she’d thought no one would see, at girls, too, but Ae Jung-unnie had been something different for her. Something that made her heart hurt, like it hurts now. She hugs Ae Jung-unnie tighter, and it hurts a little less. She can’t have what she’d wanted when she was younger, what she sometimes still wants now when she allows herself to think about it, but she can have this, and this is fine, too. This is good. It’s wonderful, actually.
“Ahh,” Se Ri says, pulling back. She forces herself not to blink too much, or Ae Jung-unnie will spot that her eyes are a little wet. She feels like it’s obvious anyway. “When are these unnies going to get here? They’re always so late, it’s embarrassing.”
Ae Jung-unnie laughs and pats Se Ri’s knee. “Thank God there’s the two of us, then, right?”
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I HAVE A SHITLOAD OF FEELINGS ABOUT THEM TOO GODDDDDDDDDD and like I am still not rid of them after writing this. It's a problem.
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This is the first piece of fiction I've read by you and it's so so gorgeous. The tone and characterization etc. are just on point.
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