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hanwooz · 9 years ago

Text

Sillage

noun // a lingering scent a person leaves behind, the impression in space after something or someone has passed by

Genre: fluff? but it’s going to be a wild ride tbh Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Summary: A Soulmate!AU where soulmates find each other through scent Words: 3,728

A/N: Again, I’m sorry I’m not putting a read more (because the “Keep Reading” option never shows up on my phone and I can’t be the only one…). Shoutout to @wonnhao for agreeing to be my beta (again) ♡

“Ah,” Jiwoo says sleepily, but complies anyway. “His name’s Jeon Wonwoo. Hmm, let’s see…he’s pretty tall, nice eyes, a really deep voice. He’s generally pretty quiet, but if you get close enough you’ll find he cracks really stupid jokes and he’s just an awkward guy, I think, but it’s cute. I’m sure you’ll get along great.”

“You think so?” You hate to sound so desperate, especially after giving her your speech about not needing pity and ‘not everyone finds love.’ But now that you’re finally close, there’s a strange sensation in your chest and it’s freeing, because it means that you’re not destined to be alone forever after all.

“Definitely.”

Five minutes later, you find yourself drifting off to sleep with thoughts of a tall, dark-haired boy with golden skin and a smile like the sun.

—

Getting the covers yanked off you is one of the worst ways to wake up, and so you groan and try to reach for the blanket as Jiwoo does just that the following morning. “It’s too early for this,” you complain, voice cracking.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” she replies, much too energetic for your liking. “We have to get you ready for your date.”

“Date? What? When?” You sit up, raking a hand through your tangle-ridden hair.

Jiwoo snickers. “Get it together, Y/N. Date with Jeon Wonwoo, your soulmate.” She rummages in her closet. “I called Jihoon this morning, and he said he’d arrange something at five. Now get up, we have things to do!”

“How did I sleep until three?” This has to be a new record. You shake your head as you go into the bathroom to make yourself semi-presentable, and when you return to Jiwoo’s room, she has changed and is in the process of putting on makeup. “I’ll be done in five minutes,” she says, meeting your eyes through her mirror. “Gather your things and grab something from the kitchen if you’re hungry, and then we’ll go over to your house to actually get you ready.”

You carry all your bags over to the front door, before making yourself a bowl of cereal. Five minutes later, as promised, Jiwoo appears, keys and bag in hand. “Let’s go, let’s go, time’s running out!” she calls as she heads outside.

You grab your things and run outside after her, making yourself comfortable in her car as she locks the door. “I can’t believe you actually found him,” Jiwoo exclaims as she makes a turn that is much too wide, earning her a honk from an oncoming car.

“Yeah, well,” you mumble, suddenly nervous, “I can’t either.”

Jiwoo pulls into a parking spot and you practically run into the house. For some reason you’re so anxious and sitting still seems impossible right now. At a leisurely pace, Jiwoo follows you into the apartment and closes the door behind her as you put your bags down in your room. “What are you going to wear?” she asks as she enters the room to find you staring intensely into your closet.

“I don’t know yet. Do you think I should go for a dress, or a tee and skirt? Or is that too much? Would wearing jeans be too casual though?”

“You are not wearing jeans on your first date,” Jiwoo replies sternly, and that settles it. She reaches inside your closet and tugs at a black floral cotton dress. “This is cute; wear this. Or, actually,” she says as she finds a pale pink dress, “this is nice too.” Jiwoo pulls out both and holds them up. “You choose.”

“I think I like the black one better. More casual, but still cute, you know?”

Jiwoo grins in response. She holds it out to you and you take it, heading to the bathroom to change and plug in your hair straightener. When you emerge fifteen minutes later, changed and hair straightened, Jiwoo looks at you from her position on your bed. “Cute!” she comments, and stands up. “Sit down. I’ll do your makeup.”

“Just keep it natural,” you say as you sit on the bed. You close your eyes as Jiwoo makes your skin look smooth and cheekbones sharper, dusts eyeshadow and draws liner onto your eyes. The brush is soft against your skin, and you’re almost lulled to sleep before Jiwoo speaks up.

“Alright, go look,” Jiwoo says once she finishes. You do, and you have to admit that Jiwoo did a phenomenal job.

“Thanks, Jiwoo,” you smile at her.

Her only response is to grin and check her watch. “We have an hour left. Knowing Jihoon, he’s going to get there early, and I’m assuming that he’s dragging Wonwoo—sorry, driving him to meet us—so we should probably head out.”

You grab a white bag and fill it with your essential items, then follow her out the door. Once in Jiwoo’s car, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” you admit.

Jiwoo reaches over and pats your knee. “It’s fine. That’s normal. Just breathe and pretend he’s just any other friend. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

You can’t help yourself from voicing your doubts. “I guess, for some strange reason, I’m scared that it was a mistake and he’s not the one after all. I mean, what if we get there, and Wonwoo and I both realize this was a mistake?”

She shoots you a glance so meaningful that you know she doesn’t believe that would be possible. Instead as she pulls into a parking spot at a nearby restaurant, she only says, “Then you make a new friend and enjoy some good food. Deal?”

You take a deep breath. “Deal.”

Jiwoo leads the way inside, where you find Jihoon sitting alone at a table near the back. Jiwoo’s face brightens up instantly, and she waves at him, making her way across the small restaurant. Watching her, you can’t help but feel envious—not of her, necessarily, but of her happiness, of her self-assuredness and sense of belonging. You follow her and stand awkwardly at the table where Jiwoo has already seated herself across from Jihoon.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jihoon greets you with a smile. “I’m glad you found him. Though I can’t believe it’s Wonwoo, of all people—ow!” He stops abrupty and rubs at his knee, where presumably Jiwoo has kicked him. “Anyway, he went into the restroom. He should be out soon, though. Your table is over there,” Jihoon says, indicating the table behind them.

“Have fun, you two,” Jiwoo practically sings, as though she isn’t going to be sitting right behind you.

As you take your seat, you finally place the sense of dread in your stomach: you can’t smell anything, even though Wonwoo is in the restroom about twenty feet away from where you’re sitting.

Five minutes later, when Wonwoo emerges, he sits across from you. “Hi, I’m Wonwoo,” he says, introducing himself with his hand extended, but he shoots you a sad smile.

“I’m Y/N,” you respond, shaking his hand and returning his smile. You both know now that you had been mistaken, and you’re sure your cheeks are flaming.

Wonwoo, however, is polite enough not to point it out. He seems about as determined as you to ignore the awkwardness. Like Jiwoo said, you might as well use this opportunity to make a new friend, right? Right.

You browse the menu and try your best to make small talk. You learn that Wonwoo is actually quite nice. He’s around your age—two years older—and goes to the same university as you. He works at a bookstore not too far from campus, something he seems quite proud of. One hour later, you and Wonwoo share a banana split, and you are full and happier than you have been in a while.

You set your spoon down, shaking your head. “I’m done. I’m too full.”

Wonwoo shrugs and pulls the bowl toward himself. It will never cease to amaze you how much boys can eat. “So anyway,” he says around a mouthful of ice cream, something you would have found disgusting with anyone else, “since we have the same free hours between classes, we should hang out more.”

“Yeah,” you reply, unlocking your phone and handing it to him. “Here, let’s exchange numbers.”

He takes it and gives you his in response. After punching in your number and returning it to him, you watch as he does the same and scoops another spoonful of ice cream. “Do you normally eat this much?” you ask, amazed.

“No,” he responds, lips quirking up in a smile. “But since we’re eating out I might as well eat as much good food as I can, right?”

“I’m not sure that mentality is the healthiest,” you respond, laughing.

“Oh, it definitely isn’t. But when you don’t have time to eat properly most days…” He trails off, looking out the window for a while before happily continuing to eat.

Your heart goes out to the boy; he must have it as hard as you. Wonwoo finally sits back with a contented sigh as he finishes.

“Are you two done?” Jiwoo asks, amusement apparent in her voice. You jump slightly; you hadn’t even noticed her and Jihoon getting up to stand by your table.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You can go on out first. I’m just going to go pay and I’ll be right there.”

Wonwoo stands up the moment you do, and his long legs carry him to the register too fast for you to follow. You reach the counter as he hands the cashier his card, and you can only stare at him, aghast. “Wait, did you already pay?”

“Yeah.”

“For both of us?” you ask, voice squeaking.

“Yeah,” he answers nonchalantly as he puts his card back into his wallet.

“Jeon Wonwoo!” You’re flattered and secretly, guiltily, relieved. But mostly you’re just shocked and indignant—you had just met for the first time today, and you weren’t even actually soulmates. And you and Wonwoo had spent a good deal of time complaining about working and studying, and how hard it was to save any money. Guilt crushes you, and it must have been apparent on your face, because Wonwoo gives you a gentle smile and puts his hands on your shoulders, leading you out of the restaurant.

“It wasn’t actually that much,” he says, letting go of you when you near the door. “Besides, if you’re really feeling guilty, you can pay the next time we go eat. And next time, we’re going to some famous five-star restaurant with five-hundred-dollar steak.”

You roll your eyes, but smile at him. “Anyway, thanks, Wonwoo.”

He returns the smile. “You’re welcome. Anyway, it looks like Jihoon is waiting, so I’m going to go. It was nice meeting you, Y/N. See you around!”

“Just text me when you’re free or something to hang out,” you say, waving and starting to leave.

“Wait,” Wonwoo says suddenly. You give him a questioning look as you turn back around. “I hope you find your soulmate soon.”

It’s almost like getting a bucket of cold water thrown in your face, and your smile turns wistful. “Thanks. I hope you do too.”

Wonwoo gives one last wave before heading to Jihoon’s silver car in the opposite end of the parking lot as Jiwoo’s. You watch him get into the car before turning around and going to Jiwoo’s car.

“So?” Jiwoo asks the moment you open the car door.

“Well, he’s not the one,” you answer as you shut the door, and Jiwoo looks incredulous. “But he’s a nice guy, and I’m hoping we can be friends anyway.”

“Huh,” Jiwoo says as she pulls out of the parking lot. “That’s so strange. You’re sure you smelled someone yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Don’t worry. At least we’re getting closer to finding him. He was near my house yesterday night, so you can just visit, like, every night until we find out who’s coming and going in my neighbors’ houses—”

You laugh. Jiwoo is taking this more seriously than you are, and it’s your soulmate. “Jiwoo, it’s fine. I’m not going to creep on your neighbors.”

“But we have to find him somehow.”

“I’m sure I’ll run into him sometime under normal circumstances.”

“We have to speed things up, though! Jihoon and I were going to throw a party tonight; you should come. There’s a good chance that he’ll be there.”

“Party?” you repeat. “It’s Sunday. You do realize most people have classes tomorrow, right?”

“We’re kicking everyone out at midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I’ll stop by tonight.”

“Great!” Jiwoo stops by the curb in front of your house. “The party starts at nine. See you then!”

“See you,” you mutter as you close the door and head into your apartment. You kick off your shoes and go straight into your room, flopping onto your bed. A look at the clock tells you that it’s currently six, so you have a few hours before Jiwoo’s party starts—but then again, you never arrive at parties on time, if at all.

You wonder, suddenly, if Wonwoo is planning to go. Jiwoo is your friend, and you’re sure there are several other of your friends that are going, but it’s nice to have someone who won’t be preoccupied with others. You grab your phone and type out a message, thumb hovering over the send button. This wouldn’t sound creepy, would it? Well, he knows that considering he’s not your soulmate, you wouldn’t be trying to make a move on him. You shrug, close your eyes, and hit send.

A minute later, your phone alerts you to a new message. It’s Wonwoo, who says that he’ll go, but he will most likely be a little late.

Relieved, you decide to get some homework done. Since you’re going to be heading out later, showering seems like a rather pointless option; you’re going to come back reeking anyway. Even if you don’t drink a drop of alcohol, the smell of the parties somehow always manages to cling to your clothes long after they’re over.

You manage to finish an essay before you rub your eyes and look at the clock: five minutes before nine. You head into the bathroom to wash your face before grabbing your bag and keys. By the time you find a parking spot and knock on Jiwoo’s door, you can already hear the bass pounding from outside the house. Jihoon answers and greets you with a smile so wide you can tell he’s already had a cup or two. “Hey, Y/N, come on in.”

You walk in and close the door behind you, waiting a few moments to adjust to the music blasting from the living room. The apartment is already packed, and you spot a few friends dancing in the crowd. You decide to head into the kitchen, hoping it will be less crowded there.

Apparently, Wonwoo had the same thought, because you find him sitting there alone, on his phone. “Hey, Wonwoo.”

He looks up and smiles when he sees you. “Oh, hi.”

“I thought you were going to be late,” you say, sitting on the counter next to him.

“I thought so too, but my boss let me out early, so here I am.”

“I’m actually not too fond of parties,” you admit.

He sighs. “Neither am I. I guess that’s why we’re both hiding out in here, huh?”

You laugh. “I guess so. Do you want anything to drink?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No thanks. I have to drive myself home, and I’d rather not die on the way.”

“Me too,” you agree. “I meant water, juice, you know, other non-alcoholic things Jiwoo has in her fridge.”

“Water would be good.”

You find two bottles of water from the fridge and hand him one. “Thanks,” he says, taking it as you climb back onto the counter.

The two of you sit in companionable silence, both on your phones. That is, until the now-familiar smell hits you again, stronger than ever before—so strong that you’re sure, positive, that he’s here in this apartment right now, somewhere out there among the mass of people.

You slide off the counter, earning a curious look from Wonwoo. “Are you okay?” he asks, frowning slightly. “You’re kind of…pale.”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine, I’ll be right back—” You leave before he can respond, almost running into a couple making out against the wall right outside the kitchen. “Sorry,” you mutter, but they’re so engrossed in each other you’re sure they can’t hear you.

The sheer amount of people in the compact space is overwhelming, so you try to look around before you join the throng of bodies. No one seems to be as confused or searching like you are, though, so you have no choice but to try to find him in the crowd.

After what seems like an hour later, with too many gropes and nearly spilled drinks for your liking, you give up and decide to go back to the kitchen. Wonwoo is gone, though, and the kitchen is empty except for Jiwoo and Jihoon, who have their heads bent toward each other and are whispering together. Deciding to give them their privacy, you stand outside the kitchen, holding a cup that someone shoved in your hands that you have no intention of drinking from.

It’s frustrating, though, because you can still smell him—you know he’s here somewhere, but even after that adventure searching through most of the partiers, the smell didn’t get any stronger, no indication at all that you were getting closer to him. All it earned you were several suggestive eyebrow raises and guys too close for your comfort.

“Why are you just standing here?” a voice asks beside you, and you turn around. It’s Jiwoo.

“Since when do I do anything other than stand there at parties?” you fire back, but there’s no malice behind your statement, just tired resignation.

Jiwoo shrugs, sipping from her cup. “You could dance.”

You decide to ignore this. “I didn’t know you could even fit this many people into your apartment.”

“I didn’t either,” Jiwoo admits, “but people somehow all manage to squeeze in at parties. It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

“Either way, I’m not looking forward to cleaning up this mess,” Jiwoo says with a pout.

“Then why did you even decide to throw a party?” you ask, amused.

Jiwoo shrugs again and looks behind her. “Anyway, try to have some fun. I’m going to go find Jihoon.” She pats your shoulder and heads into the packed living room.

Seeing how you’re not going to drink from the cup anyway, it would probably be a better idea to pour it out before someone bumps into you and spills it on you instead. With a sigh, you turn around and enter the kitchen, pouring the contents of the cup into the sink.

“That’s quite a waste,” a voice says from the entrance to the kitchen, and you close your eyes. It’s him. “You know, if you weren’t going to drink it, you could have given it to me.” The voice had steadily come closer to you until you could almost feel him—as well as smell him—behind you.

“You should have come sooner, then,” you answer, turning around and opening your eyes, and you almost take a step back.

He’s tall—so tall that you have to crane your head upwards to look at his face. He has golden skin and mop of messy, side-swept black hair. His dark eyes bore into yours as your gaze travels to his crooked smile. “I’ve been looking for you,” he whispers, and you shiver.

“So have I,” you whisper back, and he pulls you in for a hug. Your first response is to want to pull away or push him off you, since after all, you had never even seen him before. But then you remember who he is, and the reality hits you as you let him be. He’s wearing a white button-up shirt tucked into black leather pants so tight you can only describe it as sinful, and he’s hugging you so tightly you’re pressed up completely against him. It feels good, and right, but somehow it strikes you that something is off and very strange about this entire situation. You breathe him in and hug him back, tightly, and that’s when you realize: even if the lemon-mint scent is infinitely stronger—more citrusy today, more tangy and sharp—it’s muted by the stench of booze and cigarettes.

Never in any of Jiwoo’s accounts, has Jihoon’s signature springy smell been muted by any other scent, even when he was drunk or sick. The smell that soulmates pick up on represent each other’s true personalities, their essence, who or what they were at the very core.

Which is why it makes no sense that in his presence—especially pressed this close to him—you can smell anything other than the sweet-tangy scent of lemon-mint you learned to associate him with.

“You—” You let go of him abruptly, stepping back away from him but the only thing that’s behind you is the sink, so it digs painfully into your back as you look up at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, hurt in his eyes, voice low. His hands reach for your shoulders, but you brush them away impatiently.

“I think there’s a mistake,” you whisper, staring at the ground.

His hand reaches for your chin and he lifts your head so that you’re forced to look straight into his eyes. “What do you mean there’s a mistake?” He leans in, so close that his next words tickle your ear. “I smell you, and I know you smell me, too. You want to know what you smell like?”

“What?” you ask, despite yourself. At this point, your heart is pounding so fast, so hard, there’s no way he can’t feel it given how close he is to you.

“You smell like the ocean breeze,” he answers, wrapping his arms around you again, and rests his head against your shoulder.

“That’s it? That’s all you smell?” Because you still think he reeks of alcohol and cigarettes underneath the citrus.

“Is there something more I should be smelling?” he asks against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“I guess not,” you say. Because there isn’t. Yet there’s something wrong, obviously. He’s drunk, maybe high. You smell it. Maybe he won’t even remember finding you, saying all these things, come morning and he’s sober. And even though you know you should push him away, leave and try to figure out this mess, find out what’s going on, every inch of your body is screaming at you to stay put, to hug him. And because you have no inclination to move, to act as logic dictates, you stay wrapped in his arms.

“My name is Kim Mingyu,” he says after a while, voice slightly slurred, straightening up to his full height to look into your eyes. “And I’ve found you.”

#mingyu scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #17library #c:writing #mingyu

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hanwooz · 9 years ago

Text

Sillage

noun // a lingering scent a person leaves behind, the impression in space after something or someone has passed by

Genre: fluff? but its going to be a wild ride tbh Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Summary: A Soulmate!AU where soulmates identify each other through scent Words: 3,270

A/N: I’m sorry I’m not putting a read more (because the “Keep Reading” option never shows up on my phone and I can’t be the only one…). Also thank you @wonnhao for agreeing to be my beta ♡

At any moment in the day, we humans are surrounded by a mirage of scents. Scents of food, of people, of the new-clothes smell in department stores, of the pizza place down the street and the lingering perfume of passersby. Oftentimes we get so many stimulants that we get overwhelmed and we eventually learn to tune some out, recognizing and responding only to those out of the ordinary.

According to Jiwoo, though, science all goes to hell when you find The One. “You can tell he’s around when he’s within a mile radius,” she gushes, repeating the story for the millionth time, almost spilling her cup of coffee. “The smell just hits you, and oh, my God, Jihoon smells like a sunny spring afternoon spent in the park—”

“Alright, I get it, I get it,” you say, smiling placatingly to stop her before she goes on her god-knows-how-many rant about how Jihoon smells. You, for one, don’t think he smells like much besides the sweet cologne he likes to wear. In fact, like most normal people, you don’t think anyone smells like anything unless it’s B.O. or overpowering perfume.

Sometimes you wonder if you will ever find The One, as you stare at your friends and their soulmates, or whether you’re one of the rare cases that just don’t have a soulmate. Or maybe you were just too intent on other things in your life—finding a balance between work and studying is so hard that maybe you missed sensing The One when he passed. Or what if he was on the other side of the world? Is it even possible to find him then?

Jiwoo leans forward, setting her cup down. “I’m telling you, Y/N, you just need to get out more. Stop denying me shopping trips and just walk around! You’ll find him someday.”

You sigh, not in the mood for a pity party. “I’m busy, Jiwoo, you know that.” Unlike you, I can’t afford to take days off of work all the time, nor do I have any inclination to. Jiwoo is off work practically every other day, and the fact that she hasn’t been fired yet amazes you. Then again, that’s probably because you agree to fill in for her—secretly, of course, because she runs out of sick days too quickly, and the manager is never actually there anyway.

“Then make time, Y/N. You won’t get anywhere if you don’t try,” Jiwoo replies, rolling her eyes. At that moment, her phone rings, and you see the name Jihoon appear before she holds the phone, shooting you an apologetic glance.

“Go ahead, take it,” you say resignedly.

She picks up and turns to the side, murmuring into the phone. You can tell she’s trying to keep it short and quiet, since this was supposed to be a you-and-her night for old time’s sake, but it’s impossible to miss the gleam in her eye or the way her hands fidget as she struggles to keep her hands from moving animatedly the way she normally does when she talks.

Jiwoo finally turns around again to face you as she ends the call. “Sorry, he said he couldn’t find the bag of cocoa for hot chocolate. But honestly, I put it in the cupboard, he knows—anyway. Sorry.” She glances down at her thin white wristwatch. “Let’s go shopping.”

You groan. “Jiwoo, you know I can’t afford—”

“Then we can go window-shopping,” she says, exasperated. “Whether you like it or not, Y/N, I’m dragging you around today. We are not going to stay in your house the entire night. You do that enough.”

There is no denying this girl. “Alright. Fine. Let’s go.”

Jiwoo drives the two of you to the nearby mall, chattering on about some new thing Jihoon has done that she’s currently obsessed about as you stare out the window. She made a good point; you’re often so busy that you can’t make time for yourself, so it’s nice to finally relax and appreciate the setting sun. The months have been passing by so quickly that you hadn’t noticed the days getting longer, but now it’s past seven and the sun is still out.

As the two of you walk in, you spot a clothing store displaying dresses and skirts that catch your eye. Despite yourself, you tug on Jiwoo’s hand, leading her into the store as she points out certain outfits. “Y/N, look at this dress,” she exclaims, pulling a blush-pink dress off the rack. “You would look gorgeous in this!” Jiwoo waves it in your face, at the same time ushering you into the fitting room.

“I don’t know,” you say as she thrusts it into your hands. “I normally don’t wear dresses like these—”

“Just try it on,” Jiwoo huffs, and you respond by closing the door and doing as she says.

You have to admit, the dress hugs your body nicely—making it look like you have curves, for one thing—even though you feel much too exposed and fancy than any occasion would require. You open the door to tell Jiwoo as much, but your words die in your mouth as she gapes with her mouth falling open, and runs in to hug you excitedly. “Yes, yes, yes, you look absolutely stunning and I am buying you that dress no matter what you say.”

“Jiwoo, no. I have no reason to wear this dress, ever—”

“Shut it. Who needs a reason to look good?”

“But it’s so fancy and when would I ever need to—”

“Well, you’re going to have to go to some kind of formal event sometime, right? You can wear it then.”

You close the door again to change out of the dress. As you hold it up in front of you, admiring the silky fabric between your fingers, you have to admit that it really is a beautiful dress. “Okay, I’ll buy it,” you say as you leave the changing room, but Jiwoo is nowhere to be seen. “Jiwoo?”

“Yeah, I’m here!” she calls as she comes over, shopping bag in hand. “Here. It’s the same dress,” she explains at the confused glance you give her, and takes the one in your hand to put back on the rack. “I really just wanted to do something for you, since it’s been forever since we’ve last hung out. And I’ve been so preoccupied lately that I’ve been a horrible friend.” She takes your hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Jiwoo, it’s not a problem. I know Jihoon is important to you. I’m not angry or upset. And you didn’t have to buy this for me,” you reply as you and Jiwoo leave the store, raising the bag. You’re inexplicably torn between frustration and gratitude. You’re tired of your friends treating you like a piece of glass, delicate and easily broken. You’re tired of seeing them tiptoeing around topics that they think would be insensitive to discuss around you—namely, their partners and their love lives. You know they stop their cheerful gossiping and teasing when you walk in the room, and now is as good a time as any to start fixing that. You lead her to the food court and sit down at an empty table, placing the bag in the seat next to you.

You let out a breath, not quite sure how to voice the warring emotions inside of you. “Jiwoo…the thing is, I don’t need anyone to pity me,” you say quietly.

“I don’t—” she begins.

“Just let me finish. I know that you, and Hana, and Nara, all look at me and maybe you don’t say it, but I know you pity me for not having found my soulmate yet. Not only that, I’m always either working or studying and I never have time for anything, because I don’t have the luxury of being financially stable enough that I can take time off and just hang out. And it’s true, it’s wearing me out, but I will ask for help when I feel I need it. I love you guys, and I appreciate your concern, but I’m really okay. Not everyone finds love, and not everyone finds it quickly.”

Jiwoo takes your hand from across the table. “I know. I know you’re strong, and you don’t need pity. I don’t pity you. I just want you to be happy, Y/N. And that’s not going to happen if you keep pushing yourself and pushing yourself like the way you’ve been doing.”

You put your head in your hands, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I just—I don’t know anymore. I can’t just stop working, can’t just stop pulling all-nighters to study for tests when I’m paying for these classes anyway.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out. And I’m always here, if you ever need me.”

You look at her and smile. “I know. Thanks.”

“Alright, enough sad talk. I say we each get a cup of ice cream and continue on. There are so many places left we’ve yet to explore. We haven’t gone here in what, a year?”

You agree and head over to the ice cream shop in the corner of the food court, where you get vanilla with gummy bears and sprinkles and Jiwoo gets strawberry and yogurt chips. Jiwoo leads you into a cosmetics shop, then an accessories shop, and by the time the two of you decide to call it a day and leave the mall you’re both carrying heaping bags of clothes, makeup, facemasks, and accessories.

On the way out the doors you drop a small bag containing some necklaces you had just bought, but Jiwoo is oblivious as she continues making her way to the parking lot. You sigh, hoping to god that the necklaces haven’t broken or cracked somehow—they’re glass—and bend down to pick up the bag. “Why on earth did I let her convince me to get all this when I need to save to buy textbooks for next semester?” you mutter under your breath.

As you stand up and hurry to catch up to Jiwoo, a breeze blows your hair in your face, carrying along with it a faint scent of lemon-mint; sweet, spicy, and crisp.

“Come on, slowpoke, it’s late and I want to get home and shower,” Jiwoo jokes as you reach her car. She’s stuffing all her shopping bags in the trunk and you join her.

“You’re the one who suggested we go to the mall in the first place,” you fire back good-naturedly, done with your bags and getting into the passenger seat. “We could be home, warm and comfortably watching a movie.”

Jiwoo rolls her eyes as she shuts the trunk and slides into the driver’s seat, yanking on the seatbelt. “Please. As if you didn’t enjoy that just as much as I did.”

“I can’t believe we got those shoes. Seventy percent off! And they were so cute, too.”

“Exactly!” Jiwoo hums contentedly as she reverses and drives out of the parking lot. “Did you want to stay over at my apartment, or do you want me to drop you off at home?”

“Please. I love you, and you know I love our sleepovers, but I’m not in the mood to third-wheel you and Jihoon.”

Jiwoo laughs. “Not likely. I think he just stopped by to pick up something he needed and left.”

You look over at her and raise an eyebrow. “And decided to make himself some hot chocolate before he headed out?”

Even with the dim lighting you see Jiwoo blush as she shoots you a sheepish smile. “He does that sometimes. Anyway, I need to turn now if you want to go home, so what’s your answer?”

“I’ll sleep over at yours.”

“Wonderful!” Jiwoo continues humming as she turns on the radio, and you find yourself singing along horribly to the pop songs playing. Jiwoo joins you, and by the time you reach her house you’re laughing so hard that you can almost pretend it’s just like the old days, before she ever met Jihoon, before any of your friends had found their soulmates, and you were just a group of fun-loving high schoolers hanging out and enjoying life the way only the young and carefree can.

Jiwoo unlocks the door and kicks off her shoes, heading straight to her room. “Can you lock the door?” she calls out behind her. “Thanks!”

You do as she asks and follows her into her room. “Just put your bags in that corner over there,” Jiwoo says, pointing with her chin at a relatively spacey corner in her cluttered room, clothes strewn everywhere. “Sorry, I should have cleaned a bit earlier,” she mutters as she picks up clothes by the armful from the floor, gathering them all into a neat pile by the door.

You laugh as you flop onto her bed. “It’s fine, not like that’s anything new.”

“That’s true,” she admits, giving the pile one last kick and turning to her closet. She picks through her clothes, flinging a worn gray t-shirt and pink sweats at you. “Here, you can change into those after you shower.” She finds a change of clothes for herself as well and heads to the bathroom, shutting the door. “Oh yeah, if you need underwear, they’re in the second drawer!” she shouts.

“Got it!” you yell back, still lying on her bed. You start a game on your phone, waiting for Jiwoo to finish showering. Twenty minutes later, she emerges, smelling freshly like strawberry shampoo.

You grab the outfit she’d lent to you and head into the bathroom. “You can use the extra towel—it’s the plain white one!” she calls after you.

You roll your eyes as you look at the towels hanging on the back of the door: a pink towel with white polka dots, a black-and-white striped one, and a new-looking plain white one. It’s not like Jiwoo needed to tell you which is hers; you don’t think Jihoon is the type to use the sad plain towel when there’s the perfectly good striped one. But then again, who knows, right?

It’s amazing what a nice hot shower can do, you muse as you dry your hair, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You look happier, you realize, and less stressed. Taking some time for yourself is probably something you should do more often.

When you’re done, you head back into Jiwoo’s room to discard your dirty clothes into one of your many bags. You head into the kitchen afterward to find something to drink, where you see Jiwoo and Jihoon talking in hushed tones. Jiwoo has her back to you, but Jihoon spots you, giving you a smile and a wave. “Oh, hi, Y/N. Jiwoo mentioned you’re staying over.”

“Hey, Jihoon,” you reply, giving him a smile back as you walk over to the fridge. “Did you miss Jiwoo too much or something? I thought she said you had to grab something and leave.”

“I did,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “But I realized I forgot my flash drive here so I had to come back and get it.”

“Next thing you know—” You begin, but then the smell hits you again, stronger this time: definitely a lemon scent, but also sharper than a lemon scent would smell, and sweeter. Jiwoo and Jihoon are still staring at you, though, so open the fridge as you continue on. “Next thing you know, he’ll be coming back for his headphones, and then his hat, and then his socks, and then at one kernel of popcorn he dropped on the ground yesterday,” you say wryly as you take the carton of orange juice and close the door.

Jihoon laughs and grabs his keys from the counter. “I promise I won’t intrude on you girls anymore. Anyway, Wonwoo’s waiting outside in the car; I said I’d drive him home, and then I have to head to the studio to work on some things. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Jiwoo says as he pulls her in for a quick peck on the forehead and leaves, probably out of consideration for you.

“You want some orange juice?” you ask Jiwoo as you grab a cup.

“No, I’m good, thanks.” She takes a seat by the counter, scrolling on her phone.

“Can I ask you something?” you blurt.

Jiwoo looks up from her phone curiously. “What?”

“Does Jihoon still smell like spring or whatever to you?”

“Yeah,” she answers, looking at you strangely. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I was just curious.” But a million thoughts float through your mind then. Jihoon still didn’t smell like anything to you when you walked past him, and yet there definitely was a lemony scent. It isn’t Jiwoo, or yourself either, because she uses strawberry-scented shampoo and vanilla body wash. Which means there is only one explanation…

Jiwoo seems to have reached the same conclusion, because her face suddenly brightens up. “You smell him, don’t you?” she whispers excitedly. “You smell something.”

“Smelled. It’s gone now,” you whisper back, as if the two of you are conspirators, speaking of some forbidden thing.

Jiwoo gasps. “Is it Wonwoo? Jihoon said he was in the car—”

“I don’t know, you said it’s a mile radius so it could be anyone on this street—”

“But what are the chances you smelled him just when Jihoon arrived? It’s got to be Wonwoo, I’ll tell Jihoon to set something up—”

“Oh, my God—”

Jiwoo jumps off the seat and runs over to hug you so suddenly you almost fall over. “I’m so happy for you, Y/N! You finally found him, oh my goodness—”

“But what if it’s not him?” you ask. A mile radius includes a lot of people. For all you know, it could be someone visiting a neighbor.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll mention it to Jihoon tomorrow when he comes over.” Jiwoo grabs your empty cup and drops it into the sink with one hand, turning you around with the other. She leads you out of the kitchen and into her room. “It’s past midnight now. We should sleep and get you ready for your date tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” you squeak.

“Yeah, Jihoon hangs out with him a lot. He’s a nice guy—I’m glad he’s your soulmate,” Jiwoo says, beaming, and turns off the light.

You settle on one side of the queen-sized bed, and Jiwoo flops onto the other with a very unladylike oof. “This is nice,” she comments. “It’s just like before.”

“Yeah,” you agree, and the two of you lapse into a silence so long you’re sure she’s fallen asleep. But you break it anyway. “Can you tell me about Wonwoo?”

“Definitely.”

Five minutes later, you find yourself drifting off to sleep with thoughts of a tall, dark-haired boy with golden skin and a smile like the sun.

#mingyu scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #17library #c:writing #mingyu

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