#[ 尹 ] THREAD : 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 & 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭

[blvckmar]

𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 & 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓,  @silenthowls : 

yoon sunhwa was nine years old when her father took her camping for the first time. they spent two nights on the rolling sides of jirisan, her mornings spent atop her father’s shoulders to watch the first daylight crest over the mountaintop. he’d tell how it was a tradition, for the son’s of the yoon family to take their sons, and so forth. yoon minhyuk was the only one of his siblings to bear a single child—a daughter, at that. perhaps that is why he was no less harder on her than her boy cousin counterparts—perhaps that is why when sunhwa was sixteen, her father dropped her off at the base of jirisan with all but a rucksack and told her not to come back home until she made it to the very top.

despite how it sounds, yoon sunhwa is usually very fond when she recalls this memory, a whisp of reminescent delirium in her eyes, a hint of awe in her voice. 

it’s been years since sunhwa last braced jirisan’s trails, her last attempt lost somewhere between 2016’s aftermath, a poorly timed typhoon, and a face blurred in the haze of too many drinks and a thrilling dare. lasting only twelve hours, the memory had left sunhwa until she glimpsed jin yohan during the long-awaited reunion. his timing, impeccable, really, as sunhwa’s father had cancelled their own trip last minute, apologize profusely as he rushed to the airport. mouth pressed to her knuckles in thought, sunhwa had heavily (emphasis on heavily) considered her options: accept the waste of time and money, or repurpose the second park ticket. it wasn’t like she didn’t know yohan, but sunhwa wouldn’t have shied away from asking even if he was as familiar as a stranger on the street. and this is how she places her bet on him, an invitation for chaos cloaked as a short, soul-searching ride through the best nature south korea has to offer.

this is how she ends up in a jeep with jin yohan, cruising up the convoluted road to the parking site with some young and new group squealing distastefully on the radio. 

sunhwa's gaze flickers between him and the road over her sunglasses. she presses her mouth together as if to supress laughter. "i wasn't going to say anything, but my purse holds more shit than what you brought,” she jabs at his significantly smaller cargo compared to the unit of stuff in the trunk (though in all fairness, he had not witnessed her pack it. nor did sunhwa clarify what to bring. she’d hoped common sense to do the work for her.)

alas, feeling no need to elaborate, sunhwa only takes a breath of the mid-afternoon air, petrichor still on the breeze, the sun a pleasant cascade through the windows. when it strikes her eyes, one could see the settling of a sort of madness from the build up of anticipation. and if she steps a little harder on the gas, no one can blame her.