acridcandy

[acridcandy]

* fragments of time ⏤ featuring @ra0n

a woman on a mission, aera moves through the throng of people with ease, party goes diverging like the red sea after one look at her fixed stare, her vehement countenance, the small gift bag that's coiled so rigidly within a hand that it almost rips beneath her touch. raon is the woman with a target on her back, or at least it's what is assumed by the way aera is seen asking multiple people of her sister's whereabouts only an hour after the festivities begin. somewhere in the back of her mind she's aware of how this could appear, how gossip girl is probably salivating at the thought of another possible sibling clash over god knows what, but the vast amount of conflicting emotions that thrash within her at the gift at hand obstructs any sort of logic at the moment, only running off of sentimental value.

so whenever the familiar frame of raon finally comes into her view ( or at least the description matches underneath the damn indiscernible lighting ), there's no hesitation within her walk, making herself known within the seemingly private conversation with an air of entitlement as she interrupts with an angelic grin, "hi, yeah this conversation? no longer important. you're coming with me," and before there's any back talk aera takes hold of raon's wrist, almost yanking her away to the somewhat hidden stairs that occupy the private rooms. she's silent, jaw tight to hold the feelings within that threaten to come up like bile, spilling all over. it's why she roughly makes her way inside an unoccupied room, pulling raon in and before the padded stillness of the room could come between them, she shows her the opened gift, shaking it with vigor.

"this isn't a joke, right," aera starts rather meekly, no longer keeping the glassiness of her eyes at bay, "what is this, raon. what the fuck!" her voice raises but no malice is within, only bewilderment, shock.

[acridcandy]

at this point within her event she isn't sure who is what, which direction is which; her plan to stay somewhat sober disintegrating underneath the wills of peer pressure only ten minutes in after her grand entrance. this combined with the countless photo ops, well wishes, and wearying conversations with randoms that's imperative to entertain leaves her in an almost dazed state ⏤ unable to separate reality from fiction. her grin maintains throughout the entire photo session with the boy with the angel mask that complements her outfit, all words of saccharine and acclaim that she revels despite their plausible sincerity. so when she's enshrouded in the presence of another after the boy's leave, arms upon her body as if they belong there, a giggle is released at the thought of one person that would be comfortable enough to hold her in such a way. he speaks just as she is about to audibilize his name, heart thrumming against her ribcage as the deep timbre of his voice doesn't match yoojung's, and she rotates her attention backwards to meet the assured gaze of hyunsik shielded in a gilded mask; fuschia deepening upon her cheeks as this affection was reserved outside of the public eye, underneath silken sheets.

eventually aera comes to realize they're hiding in plain sight amongst the rout of celebrants within the area. because of this a grin blooms upon her features, giving him a "thank you, handsome," before spinning within his arms to face him, continuing to keep little distance between them. "why did it take you so long to find me, hmm? at my own party?" she queries rather amusedly, garnet colored lip pulling into a pout while arms encircle his neck, glancing up at him, "i missed you." as if he didn't answer her late night call a couple of nights prior.

there is much ado about the devil’s hour. why, one could argue that it is much too late and thus, far too ineffective, given that all the saints are fast asleep. who is left to terrorise, then? but suppose the devil works in the most inopportune times, prowling about for strays and sleepwalkers alike. after all, is it not easier to devour a sheep that is lost, than a sheep that is safeguarded amongst the flock? it is in this way that he circles, capitalises on the minutes of chaos between the cake-cutting and unmasking, three beats after she sheds the boy beside her just for good luck. one, two, three—and he approaches from behind her like a shadow, wraps his arms around her waist slowly, then all at once. here is how he stands: palm splayed over her midriff as he pulls her intimately closer, and from his lips, a gentle, “happy birthday, aera.”

DANCE WITH THE DEVIL / @acridcandy

[acridcandy]

sometimes it feels like the media knows. about the abrupt rupture of her and saerom's budding friendship, and the tension that makes home within the jagged rifts of their current relationship, whatever that may be. it's the only logical explanation as to the request that's given to the other, aera some distance away but not too far to be incapable of overhearing. call it a simple coincidence or the paltry antics of the dieties above looking for a laugh.

because as aera poses amidst the glimmering lights, she wills her mind not to wander to what comes after the cameras turn off, what journalist those pictures will be transferred to that will write deleterious things about what lies behind the glinting smile and bottle blonde curls. things that cause others to act as the mark of the beast was uncloaked upon her body, fleeing lest they also become contaminated by remaining in her presence. too many within a short period of time. saerom is another casualty of consequence, and while her attendance at the exhibition should serve as a no brainer, the dull pang within her chest continues to emerge when seeing her. though it eventually becomes easier to overlook with each encounter.

what doesn't become easier is the influence over her own emotions since then, the walls that were once impenetrable now on the brink of eroding, too fragmented by life's phenomenons. so when the photographers in saerom's vicinity steal her attention away to motion towards the woman's amicable beckoning, there's something within her grin that calcifies at the fabrication of it all. still, aera commits to elevating her social position once more by meandering to saerom, making sure that she was settled at her side enough that the cameras wouldn't catch the way her finger tips move the other's forearm away from her body with a gentle flick, stating something without making it audible. petty? sure, but it felt right in the moment.

"careful now," she grits low through her pearly whites, gaze falling upon the other's face for a second before curving back towards the riled up photographers, "let's not overdo it and act like you could actually stand to be seen with me. you're an actress, right?" then do better sits on the tip of her tongue waiting to be said but she allows it to dissolve, her point made obvious enough to be received.

missed calls, with @acridcandy

she’ll eventually get asked if the camera flashes going off all at once don’t ever get daunting, if it isn’t hard keeping on a straight face when everyone calls your name. for saerom, the answer is always that she’s used to it. she was fifteen when she was adjusting to the warm studio lights, voices shouting directions at her behind a curtain of flashes, marks to reach and beats to hit. she envisions it as a trance, a stage between deep focus and total abandon. her suggestibility goes up and her face solidifies into an eternal smile, so dazzling nothing can reach her until her time is up and she can walk off.

it’s only hard when she’s shaken awake from her daze. she loves a red carpet because it ends, the clock is ticking as soon as she steps on it and she’s out in a blink. events skewing intimate have fewer cameras but fainter lines, and the press loves overstepping them. saerom is smiling and statuesque but she’s also noticing they’re holding her whenever she tries to walk. a young girl with an elle korea press pass flashing under the ruffles of her shirt jolts when she motions to leave for the third time, asking if they could get a few shots of her and na aera together.

it catches her off guard. saerom blinks and glances to her right, a rush of thoughts suddenly crashing on her, muddling her state of clarity. aera’s posing not far from her, and when their eyes meet saerom has the urge to look away. she hears herself chuckle as she steals a quick look at her manager behind the wall formed of photographers and cameras, and then it occurs to her that she should smile wider.

“of course.” it sounds so matter-of-fact it wouldn’t even be described as nonchalant. she fixes a strap of her dress and turns again to aera, for the first time in what must be weeks. it occurs to saerom her contact information has been muted for that long on her phone. her arm reaches for aera as she beams, eyeing elle korea from the corner of her eye for a second.

[acridcandy]

& that's just how we do it ⏤ featuring @sourires

"baaaabe," aera coos, pivoting to face her friend with a pout, "don't look like that, it'll be super fun. i think i need this? we need this!" she grins as if this isn't the third time that she's been out this week, it only being a wednesday. as if the reality of a test in their shared class on the next day isn't a thought within aera's mind, especially considering that she hasn't cracked open a book ( outside of class ) in god knows how long.

the general idea is what hyejung attempts to get through to her, always the dulcet tempered angel on her shoulder that makes a valiant effort to lead her away from temptation. and as her beacon of light amidst the stormy seas that makes her life in this year, her best friend that faithfully remains by her side throughout it all, her words naturally hold more weight that anyone in her life. and yet the two of them still find themselves in the back seat of her drivers car, on their way to arrive at the club of choice within a couple of minutes. it's quite foolish to waste effort on altering aera's thinking once she decides on an idea, no matter how detrimental it may be, so instead of indulging in a back and forth with her friend she throws out the idea of coming along so she doesn't get too trashed. and it's not a form of manipulation to get what she desires, but a genuine matter considering that hyejung is not the one for nightlife; instead it's some form of a compromise, she thinks. and maybe their perspectives are aligned since she agrees, a sense of warmth permeating her body before pulling hyejung into a hug.

"oh! by the way, you saw that stupid post gossip girl put about me having a fucking addiction? isn't there a way that i can, like, sue her for slander or something? because i'm going to be so real right now and say the only thing that was true was me being kicked out a bar, but that's because the owner is lame, broke, and likes to be mean to pretty girls," she rants in an attempt to divert while fishing out her phone from her clutch, "so ... i miiight have said some little bittle teeny white lies about that on my insta stories and made the place look bad, and my followers totally bombed their reviews online. i think they're currently at 1.5 stars when you search them up," she chuckles, satisfaction reverberating off the interior of the vehicle as she turns the screen in hyejung's direction to view the infinite amount of deception displayed, "do you love that for me? i love it for me. anyway that's why we're going to insomnia instead since one, they probably won't let me back in because of this; and two, the owner isn't mad at the world because he has a receding hairline and his kids don't love him or whatever."

[acridcandy]

𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝐹 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝑊𝐴𝑁𝑇 𝑀𝑌 𝐺𝐿𝑂𝑅𝑌 ⏤ 𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑽𝑬 𝑮𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑴𝒀 𝑺𝑰𝑵

na aera @ saints & sinners / angel by day, demon at night / @rpxoxo

[acridcandy]

MIYEON ; QUEENCARD (2023)

[acridcandy]

helloooo! i know i owe everyone everything and even still have things in my inbox to reply to ( sorry about that omg ) but i'm here anyway to make a plot call for aera's birthday event! she'll pretty much be on cloud nine the whole time due to all the attention and having yoojung as her date ♡ ; and she'll definitely be working the room because she's coming as a saint but changing into a sinner after midnight with a costume change ... because it's her party and she gets to be as dramatique as she wants! anyways, below the cut there's some ideas off the top of my head but please like this post if you would like to plot and i'll come to you! i'm happy to brainstorm and as always, please feel free to hit me up via disc as well, as it's always preferred over tumblr ims!

so she's making an attempt to not get too drunk ( tipsy at most ) or blasted because she wants to actually remember this event. but you bring party favors and she's trying to resist temptation but damn it's hard

while there's no vip section there is a vip list so that those she cares about don't have to wait in line to get in. you walk to the front thinking that you're on the list but end up being turned away. when aera is called to fix the "mistake" all she can say is an uninterested "wow, that's crazy..." ( hint: it wasn't a mistake )

all the fun of getting ready and whatnot! because you can expect aera's outfits to be extra and she'll probably need some help putting them on LOL but this can even extend to sometime prior, like coming up with ideas for outfits or shopping!

flirting with the wrong person and then proceeding to ignore them out of embarrassment after the masks come off and she realizes her mistake

oop or in that same vein, maybe they do know who each other are but the anonymity that comes with a mask gives a good excuse in case they get caught

sneaking away with someone for a just to get some reprieve for a bit, could end up looking like something different is going on

aera going to the one of private rooms for her outfit change prior to the midnight countdown and barging in to see something that she Was Not Supposed to See ( open to interpretation! )

you're someone that she's mad at / usually argues with and find it so odd that she's treating you so much better than she usually does, too bad that only lasts for tonight. maybe you use that for your advantage?

you're one of the very last people to leave the next morning and aera is tired and uncomfortable in her dress and wants to go home but you can't take a hint for some reason. or maybe you help her kick the stragglers out?

[acridcandy]

jaerim ⏤

"you haven't been talking to mommy aera." the child points out, painfully honest, as children always are. another chimes in, "you didn't fight, did you?" "daddy jaerim and mommy aera broke up!" someone shrieked, possibly junho, the loudest of the bunch. jaerim would scoop them up, silence them with some sweets and assure them that they "didn’t break up" (they were never together but children believe what they want to and neither of them felt the need to correct them anyway), whatever would help to keep the ruckus down, but he had gotten some paint on his hands and it was simply impossible to manage this bunch without her help. as if to make matters worse, someone else starts crying, but before he could attend to them, he finds her standing before him, hand in hand with dakyung, the smallest but feistiest of them all. (she always gets her way, not because she's strong but because no one can say no to her.) it was clear the kids had joined cahoots to bring them together, after weeks of suffocating radio silence between them. "um," his eyes meet hers for the first time in weeks, "i think i'm gonna need your help with this mess."

REVERIE ft. @acridcandy

in the end, everything is at the mercy of perception. no matter the laborious might it takes to craft and maintain a positive image, it's a frangible house of cards, standing with the potential to collapse at even the slightest disturbance. it's something that's not specifically taught to aera, but a lesson acquired over the course of time as the daughter of plutocrats. so it only makes sense that her original reasoning for volunteering at an orphanage was purely for image boosting purposes; there's some hope that she's caught donating her leisure time to encourage destitute children, as if the idea comes as natural to her as a shopping trip.

what she doesn't account for is it to become an oasis in between those steel walls, enraptured by the children and all of their quirks and jaerim standing at the helm of it all, with his boyish smiles and congenial charm. the orphanage exists as it's own world outside of reality where they fulfill the paternal roles that remain vacant for them, where class, reputation, hearsay, and all that intermingles within doest factor here, almost untouchable. ( jaerim only existed in rumors and passing glances before, but she can understand his reputation now. )

but then gossip girl crashes into her life like a bull in a china shop, damaging everything within her path and punting the meticulously crafted mask off aera's face, unveiling the rotting person underneath. and as she's left to pick up the pieces of her life in gossip girl's wake, there's nothing but uncertainty about how to put her wonderland back together again. especially when her contact with jaerim has reduced to almost zero with how he damn near scurries away whenever they're remotely in the same vicinity, tail tucked between his legs. he isn't yoojung ⏤ she can't bulldoze her way into his life as if it would fix everything, and even if she could, what could she do when facing him? what would she say? so she yields to his implicit request as long as that question remains unanswered and maintains space from him.

unfortunately, children are much more perceptive than adults comprehend.

such is the case when she finds herself surrounded by a group of girls, coating holographic nail polish upon bitsy fingernails ( aera mentions her collection once in passing and they make sure to harass her about it every time she stops by. it's been two months before she gives in to peer pressure. ) while they prattle on about some cartoon they were currently invested in, sitting at a table a good distance away from jaerim. she doesn't remember the name of the show but makes attempts to mirror their vigor anyway. it's all fun and games until junho's daddy jaerim and mommy aera broke up! reverberates within the room like a call to arms, and the mood shifts without warning as if she's a criminal on trial, rapid fire questions shooting her way. ( "is it true? did you guys break up?" "did he cheat on you? did you cheat on him?" "is that why you guys aren't talking?" "who's gonna take the dog?" what dog, yura? "there was a dog!" )

yura is now falling over while minji isn't taking no for an answer, and jumbled words get caught in aera's throat, perplexed at how quickly things descended into chaos. before she can answer a young hand wraps around her own, dakyung separating her from one rowdy bunch to the next, en route to jaerim as if she's stating enough is enough. weeks seems like years since their last conversation, and it's easy to conclude that things have disintegrated between them if the stiff atmosphere is obvious to kids as well. giving him a smile that doesn't meet her eyes, she turns towards the group with a yell of "everyone! we didn't break up," before making her way to the sobbing iseul, a girl that always wore her heart on her sleeve, "we didn't break up, but ... we did get into a fight. i didn't know how to make up with him." she announces while brushing the girl's tears away. was it the truth? not exactly. did they need to know that? not at all.

"tell him you're sorry and you didn't mean it!" junho yells again, as if that was the key to fixing everything.

in order to pacify the group she follows instructions, facing jaerim once more while cradling the young girl on her hip, "i'm sorry, jaerim. i shouldn't of took your paints without your permission," as her lips form a flat line, as if in deep remorse; though within her gaze it reads to please go along with this so the kids can stop prodding.

[acridcandy]

something isn't adding up, discrepancy taking hold of the conversation at will and forming a disconnect between them. because yoojung has always had a way with words, as if each sentence was conscientiously crafted and honed for each insecurity: i could never be without you, i'm not looking at anyone else, i've loved you from the day i met you, i never want to hurt you. and yet the impact of these words ricochet off of her like a metal barricade, and she wonders if it's the after effects of alcohol that bring about emotional numbness. or maybe too engulfed in her own anguish. her temper is a candle whose flame is extinguished by tears, ones that coerces quivers from her body with every wave of sobs that overtake her. "why can't i feel any of that?" her tone is mournful as aera turns her face away from him, hands fumbling through her purse in a butterfingered way until she's able to find a tissue. she's quite positive that her features now reflect how gross she feels on the inside too, all pink eyed, red nosed, and wet faced mess, and she doesn't need yoojung seeing that too. "how can you say all that but your actions don't match? how am i supposed to trust any of that?"

because even though aera doesn't consider herself to be the arbiter of all things love, she likes to presume that she knows what it's not ⏤ as so clearly demonstrated by her parents. it was a reticent disintegration of their relationship in hindsight: a lack of touch, dwindling conversation, evolving into not being in the same room unless necessary, then the arguments. she finds their issues gradually emulating her parents own, causing goosebumps that cover the nape of her neck with every realization. it's why aera presses her way into his life, what fuels her tears and fears of losing him completely. patting down her face cheeks and nose until she's presentable enough, her body faces the windshield once more.

"raon, seryung," she admits their names as if it were explicit, the other women that she couldn't speak before, "you don't look at them how you look at me? are they "no one"? or is this your way of saying that you don't love me the way i love you anymore?" they're questions that she fully doesn't expect a direct answer, but she wants to hear an answer directly from him; the latter being paramount. it's always been a wonder if yoojung is just appeasing her with his words, because when they're together at times it feels like he's simply tolerating her. like his feelings were romantic at once point, but have fizzled out like a sparkler would.

but she picks up on the baritone tremor of his voice when he starts, attention fully towards him now and subconsciously softening. aera allows him his time since he did the same for her, the only sounds emitting from her are sniffles. yoojung was right, she did think he had it easy after the immediate storm was cleared. his words showcase the depth of his pain, even if she couldn't thoroughly comprehend his reasoning, and it causes her head to dip a bit. it's his last bit that causes something to stir within her heart, a glimmer of hope as i love you so much is said with such passion that it's almost palpable, metal armor moulting away. "yoojung ..." she starts softly, a hand reaches out in the space between them, pausing to falter underneath her uncertainty for a second, before pressing forward to cusp a side of yoojung's face, a thumb caressing his cheekbone with such tenderness.

"listen to me. they took advantage of your kindness. that's not a reflection on you. that doesn't make you stupid or a loser, and i could never see you like that. if i saw you different in any way or thought being around you would have embarrassed me, i would have straight up told you and stopped hanging out with you. period. i wouldn't keep trying to be in your life, yoojung. if we could have traded places so you wouldn't have to suffer, i would have done in it a heartbeat. i love you more than you realize ⏤ i'd do anything for you." she hopes he feels her absolute sincerity as she gazes into his deep hues, searching them. she could have be more eloquent if she wasn't plastered, too, "and you ⏤ i thought we were good, but then you just stopped talking to me. and i gave you space for a bit, but it just stayed that way. you get how that feels like rejection, right? especially when i keep making up things to see you and be around you and it doesn't get better?"

"and then i feel like those same friends who actually abandoned you came back in your life and you accepted them, but i supported you through everything and it's like ... i'm being punished instead of them. how is that fair?" aera's chest rises and falls with the weight of her breathing, senses the stress welling within her eyes and attempts to blink them away, "when you say deserve somebody like you are now, what do you mean? because honestly? i don't require perfection. i just want you, as you are. but i'm ... scared. not of you, but i'm scared that we'll never recover and be stuck like this," her free index finger points back and forth between them, meaning their current relationship, "and i don't know how much more of this i can take, it hurts too bad and i've never felt more alone in my life. i'm really, really scared."

yoojung ⏤

“i have loved you from the day we met.” what is it to dream and, even having plunged so far into the breadth of imagination, wake to find the world still bearable with your eyes open? love. aera is like that. yoojung remembers every subtlety. her head on his shoulder, her hand in his. at some point, he let go. he was always sure of his intentions with her. at least, he thought he was. mulling it over now, though, maybe it doesn’t mean much, his certainty. maybe it’s pitiably quintessential, even obvious. of course he doesn’t want to drown her. who wants to drown someone they love?  “i thought i was helping you out.” it trembles where he wishes it wouldn’t, his voice. “i don’t know, aera. i thought it was a good thing. i thought that—don’t you think it was better for you? why would i want to put you through that? you act like i’ve had a great time. i’ve been miserable. i didn’t matter to anyone but you. and i love you so much, aera, i do, but don’t you think—do you think i’m wrong for wishing any of my friends cared enough about me to say something? to help me at all? am i not just a fucking loser for that? for letting that happen to me? i didn’t want you to think differently of me, aera. i didn’t want you to see me as somebody stupid. i didn’t want to ruin your reputation. you don’t deserve somebody like that. you deserve somebody like who i am now. somebody who means well and wants to do well and has the ability to actually do it, without just saying it. you have always been perfect to me, aera. i want to be the same for you. i never want to hurt you. i never want to make you miserable. i love you, aera. i love you so much.”

[acridcandy]

― 1Q84, Haruki Murakami

[text ID: I am nothing. I’m like someone who’s been thrown into the ocean at night, floating all alone. I reach out, but no one is there. I call out, but no one answers. I have no connection to anything.]

˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗

[acridcandy]

* after last night ⏤ featuring @orbreak

aera is never really the one to dwell on the past all that much, sees no benefits in it. but every time she finds herself facing gisun, she wonders what seventeen year old aera would think about being not immediately becoming irrationally indignant in his presence.

as the hour grows later into the night the deluge of people that once congests yutnori starts to dissipate, diverging to their own abodes or other plans. it's when twenty five year old aera finds herself gazing at gisun after he meanders over to her, and she's not brusquely pushing at him and cursing him for even appearing in her view. quite the opposite, she's gives a grin that dazzles even underneath obscured mood lighting, waving him over with a hand.

one can say that the alcohol in her system was acting as a social lubricant, and it wouldn't be completely wrong ⏤ the warmth that tingles throughout her body when tipsy does make her even more approachable, things more rose tinted than before. but her relationship with gisun metamorphosed from abysmal to tolerable within the last few months. she tells him it's because she behaved like a child would back then and is full of regret; when in reality it's because word about one of gisun's attempts finds her by way of her father. he says it was an accident, you're not supposed to know, this wasn't supposed to go outside of family. and it's in that moment that she comes to the conclusion that her frustration wasn't towards gisun ⏤ he wasn't the one that came up with the notion of an arranged marriage by the age of thirty ⏤ but she did project her frustrations onto him and wanted to be absolved if anything happens in the future.

and instead of just accepting her apology as appeasement and thinking nothing of it, he embraces her with his actions. it's the small ministrations of service that try to make home in the void of loneliness deep within, something completely unanticipated but welcomed ⏤ especially during this period in her life where it feels like she's on the front lines alone. even if it isn't completely genuine, aera will take any form of comfort she can get. while she no longer harbors resentment towards gisun, she can't say that she adores him or likes him just yet. her actions left them suspended as strangers, crystallized in time despite the years they've known each other ⏤ but at least they're headed in a positive direction.

"i didn't know you were here," she starts, countenance glowing with a ruddy haze settling upon her skin, glass within her hold running on empty, "i didn't expect for you to be a drinker... you drink? you don't look like you do," there's a bright giggle that's let out before she gasps, a palm flitting to his forearm in support, "omg, i don't mean that in a super bad way though, just like ... you look like you'd rather do ... other things than drink. and that's super cool too! drinking is ~ the devil." there's more laughter, followed by her finishing off the last of her mixed drink.

[acridcandy]

* straight up villian ⏤ featuring @16lies

having a relationship with seulki was akin to walking through a minefield ⏤ just when you think you have it figured out, know the lay of the land, there was always a chance of being caught unawares by a concentrated blast.

and aera has never been the type to take things sitting down, to roll over like some subservient dog and give in to what wills; no, if there was one manner of ethics that she acquires from her mother prior to her passing, it's to always strike back ⏤ in a more severe manner, if possible. a cruel lesson to teach a prepubescent and pliable daughter? sure, but one that was absolutely necessary to navigate in their circle. without it, she wouldn't have been able to withstand the betrayal that seulki brings; one that irrevocably altered the course of their relationship, the consequences of which is mutually assured destruction; eroded kinship with fathers, embittered feelings, and an erasure of what was that brings silence between them that lasts several years. aera might have started it, but it was a mistake that didn't have to go as far as it did, over a decade of friendship down the drain.

so there's no response whenever she comes to see seulki also enrolled within the same tennis club as her. absence does not make the heart grow fonder, and it shows in the way that she navigates around the other as if her presence meant nothing; her harsh gaze only serving as a reminder of blade that she twisted deep inside of her only using words. but there's a shift within the dynamic when a new girl starts attending the tennis club who shows clear signs of being a pick me ⏤ consistently seeking out male validation to the detriment of the other women, flattering herself in an ostentatiously manner for attention, demeaning others to prop herself up. and the worst part about is that she's talented to boot, quickly occupying the number one spot amongst women despite her behavior. the girl feigns wrist pain once and a number of men flock to her side at once; aera makes a comment under her breath and looks to find seulki meeting her gaze with a reflective annoyance swimming within. aera takes that as agreeance.

and from there it's a way of restoring what was lost, a bond over mutual distaste of another person. glances turn into behind the back laughter, which moves from inside jokes to full on venting sessions. it brings back memories of fonder times where seulki brought out the worst in her ( but created the most exhilarating times ), which lulls her into a sense of comfort to extend further communication. maybe they could make this work again, she thinks. or at least, they could make it work to knock that girl down some levels and to remember her place. who else would be better for the job than seulki?

it's what leads them here at this moment, aera sitting pretty at a members only bar that sits high within the seoul skyline, a former spot of theirs that they frequented when they were friends. in this space, talking like this, there's a part of her that feels compelled to let bygones be bygones and continue on their friendship. but it's just as easy to remember that the trust between them is still fractured and would take more than an insufferable woman to repair. "you know, i heard that she was lying about being rich and is a sugar baby to one of the coaches. like, ew! that would explain why she acts like she's in heat ⏤ looking for a new one to repair that shitty excuse of a boob job," aera rants with a severe eye roll before sipping on her margarita. and sure that isn't very feminist of her to say, but she can't find it in her to truly care. "i'm so tired of hearing her mouth every two seconds. can't we just like ..." a karate chop in the air with a chuckle, "break a leg or something so she can't come back for at least a couple of weeks?"

[acridcandy]

truth would you rather be with someone you love or someone who loves you?

"someone who loves me," the answer is automatic, comes to her without thinking. it's the follow up that leaves her mute for a beat, pensive as her eyes look downward towards the counter, "i feel like i've loved someone for most of my life, and like ... it's cool and all when the feeling is mutual, but what happens when it's not anymore? and he just removes you from his life? am i supposed to just⏤ keep loving him through all that?" there's a huff of exasperation, "like what, am i boring to you now? i need to be more poor and look like a dumpster diver to get your attention now or something? i⏤" and she stops her own self, an index finger in front of her to physically signal the cut off before taking a sip of her drink to calm down. "got off track but whatever ⏤ i don't think being with someone you love is worth it, honestly. it's like, i'm not seeing any benefits from it. only cons at this point. at least when you're with someone who loves you, you get to recieve all those lovey dovey feelings. i just feel like shit."

[acridcandy]

he doesn't have the right to be angry with her. not in this situation. not when she has only ever taken his side and in return, met with exclusion.

aera doesn't meet his gaze, refuses to ⏤ she knows that she will fold as soon as she peers into chestnut hues, as she always has, with words of appeasement that follow. no, the knot that has made home within her chest is too cumbersome to do so this time, every baritone sentence of his only tightening it further. is he being like this on purpose? or has he always been this way, playing obtuse to her actual meaning, and she was too love stricken to make this something of note? "don't yell at me!" she slurs, yell a bit too dramatic to describe the raise of his voice. her hands are limp within his.

but it's the does how i feel not matter anymore? that fully grabs her attention, a barbed stake that pierces through her drunken smog, aiming for her heart. it's only then that she faces him, round eyes widened and spine straightening within the cushioned seat, snatching her hands back from his grip, "really? does how you feel not matter? as if i haven't spent the past seven fucking years bending and stretching myself every which way to make sure you know that you're comforted and loved? and you have the absolute gall to ask that?" she feels delusional, laughter with an incredulous tone spilling past vamp red lips as her hands splay out in front of her, scoffing.

"you don't want me to be miserable? bullshit ⏤ then how come you've never seriously asked why i'm doing this instead of just reprimanding me and sending me home?" groomed eyebrows furrow as she inhales his rage and casts it back on him with the force of all that she's suppressed for god knows how long, "what am i supposed to do, yoojung? i'm fucking sad!" a voice cracks with melancholy as she starts yelling, "what do i do when everyone that was close to me just abandons me? fuck my mom but she's dead, my dad is as good as dead, i have a sister that wants nothing to do with me now and you, the one person i fucking trusted with my heart and was my everything at one point keeps pushing me away when all i've ever done was love you! it's so unfair!" the crimson flush of her face is enhanced by the end, though it along with the hot tears that glide down the apples of her cheeks are covered by the full length of her hands; nothing but pitiful sniffles and silent sobs while her heartbreak is laid bare within the expanse between them, enveloping her in this moment. this is why she didn't want to see him.

"don't question why i feel this way when you hurt me more than anyone, yoojung. and you keep doing it. that's how you care?" a shaky breath, "alcohol and escapism is the only thing i can count on since you're too busy making goo goo eyes at other women."

yoojung ⏤

at some point subconsciously, yoojung must’ve pulled over because he catches himself staring at her. he catches the anger in his hands, how it tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “i do not— hate you.” a pause. another nauseating taste. yoojung breathes out. “why—why the hell would you even say that? you’d rather be drunk and fuck yourself up than let me drive you home so you can rest? so there isn’t a post about you spiraling down a wild bender? so you can be safe? you think i hate you because i want you to be safe? do you think everyone else loves you, then? letting you do whatever you want?” he’s reaching for her hands, so gently it’s as if the rage had never touched him, handling her like glass. he tries to situate them, get her to leave the seatbelt alone, look at her in some way that’s pleading. 

“it’s dangerous, aera. it’s dangerous to be drinking this late. i don’t want anything to happen to you. i keep saying this every time and it always becomes an argument. i don’t want you to be miserable, aera. i want you to be safe. it matters to me. does how i feel not matter anymore?”

[acridcandy]

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gossipgirl  sometimes, in an effort to spread the most outrageous rumors, we look over the very thing that’s even more scandalous—the truth. and the only thing more shocking than the truth are the lies people tell to cover it up. but it’s often said that, no matter the truth, people see what they want to see. some people might take a step back and find out they were looking at the same big picture all along. some people might see that their lies have almost caught up to them. some people may see what was there all along. and then there are those other people. the ones that run as far as they can so they don’t have to look at themselves. and as for me, i can see clearly now. xoxo —gossip girl

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[acridcandy]

different yet still the same, as if his position was left vacant for his return. the notion holds some truth to it, with the way she allows yoonsu to glide right back into her life after four years of complete silence; just gazes into his dark eyes and lets the manifold of questions dissolve away with time, doesn't make them audible. even when he doesn't have the funds for their extravagance whenever they're out in the beginning ( and her knees almost give way to the astonishment ⏤ you can run out out of money? people like them? ) and she covers for him, instead of asking it simply becomes routine instead. nothing is free and everything is transactional, common knowledge ingrained within them as they mature, and yoonsu becomes a pretty distraction ⏤ at her beck and call like a servant to their master. but in a less dramatic way.

and as his rough hands caress her skin with such tender consideration that it makes her breath hitch in her throat, aera thinks about how being around him more is a benefit all it's own; how the electricity that scintillates between them still remains after all this time, hangs in the air like a soft haze. goosebumps travel up her skin in tandem with his eyes and her focus is too much on him to truly look at herself ⏤ a rare feat. "you think so?" she replies, though aera isn't sure if the questions is rhetorical or if she wants to hear more praise from him, lips pursing and twisting in thought as she angles her body in the mirror, "i look like i'm on the way to destroy someone's marriage. which, y'know, i have the power to, but is that what i wanna give tonight?" a question for the ages.

hands smooth past the cut out portions of her dress as yoonsu moves away, trying to ignore how the tingling sensation that lingers where his hands once were, and it's not until he calls for attention once more that her head flits upwards, a corner of her lips upturning at the sight of him shirtless. she had to admit that he knew the game well and exactly how to play her ⏤ aera would give him her black card if he asked in this moment, as long as he looked like that. "mmh, i think you're one of the few that could pull that off," she starts while strolling towards him. there's a pause as she takes a goossens necklace off the display with one hand while a finger on her free hand strokes down his breastbone ever so faintly, "keep the buttons open until about ... here," pointer finger stops at the end of the bone, "and wear this necklace to accentuate the area. is it too much? not enough?" golden tresses dip to her side as she glances up at him, a bit starry eyed, "i think you'll look sexy. which shouldn't be hard for you, but still."

stacks on deck, patron on ice (you can have whatever you like)

he pulls at the zipper of her dress. it's so quiet that the noise of metal scratching metal echoes off the high walls; they have the entire dressing room to themselves. yoonsu may have been gone a while, but it's clear that he's still too used to this. complementary champagne on the table, hand-picked racks of silk and sparkle and leather and lace lining the walls. shoes in a row on the floor, bags on silver trays laid out on a marble table. the entire world quite literally served to them on a silver platter.

(as rough-hewn and hard-bitten his time away tried to make him, yoonsu still blends into the scene like the backdrop was painted around him.)

he fixes the diamond tassels on her halter, carefully pulling them from where they hang over her shoulders so they fall down her back the way they're supposed to. his hard, calloused hands barely brush her soft, smooth skin, but he feels it all the same. it almost makes him laugh—how different they are now, how nothing's changed. there's a party tonight. there's always a party. always a reason to buy something new, to be anywhere but where they should.

he looks up at the large mirror, stare anchored on her reflection as he tugs at the dress on her sides so it folds in all the perfect places. when he's done, he drags his eyes back up and looks at her. a loose smile curves his lips, and all he has to say is written in his eyes. "looks perfect, beautiful," he says it anyway, nonchalant but not insincere. his hands linger on her waist when he walks away. yoonsu gravitates to a rack lined black. he browses for a second, then pauses so he can unbutton the black silk shirt draped over his body. he throws it carelessly onto the back of a couch and pulls a hanger off the rack. another black button-up, striped and see-through this time. he turns to her, holding it up. "like this?" he asks.

she's paying for it, so he wants her to like it.

closed starter for @acridcandy