. . .
pair - jibo/suayeon
warnings!
angst
+++
There are broken glasses by the window. She’d thrown it. Somehow. Out of frustration, anger, she can’t remember. All she can remember is the stinking smell of alcohol that now clings to her skin and the scent of burnt ashes that comes from the cigarettes scattered across the room. Across the room is someone else slumped against the wall, curled into a fetal position, arms hugging her knees tightly as she rocks back and forth, face buried and hidden. For a moment Bora couldn’t recognize her, the pulsing headache hindering her memory, and it wasn’t until her vision fully cleared out that she recognized it was Minji. Again. Like every other time. Bora starts to move.
Almost immediately, Minji looks up and her response was automatic. Hands on hands to help her sit up and a glass of water and some aspirin.
“Don’t move too quickly,” Minji starts as Bora swallows the pills.
Up close she can smell her, chocolate and perhaps a bit of rum from when Bora threw a bottle at her last night, too furious and too uninhibited to care but Minji still stays. Bora doesn’t want her to stay.
“I’m sorry,” She starts and Minji looks up, hopeful and naïve, eyes looking at her with too many things hidden behind her silent gaze and Bora could get lost in it but instead she breaks it, shatters everything like she always does because Minji isn’t her and Minji will never be her.
“- but when the hell are you leaving?” Bora continues, snatching her hand away from the older girl as though her touch burns her. And perhaps it actually does.
Minji steps back, jaws clenched, eyes dark and deep and sad and Bora has to look away.
“I can’t, you know I can’t, Bora.”
Bora throws her a look, “You can cut the strings, Minji.”
And she can. Bora had seen it. She’d seen it when Gahyeon begged Minji to cut hers from Handong’s, seen the older girl weave Yoohyeon’s and Yubin’s together, like a tailor, sewing love stories and breaking them with a flick of her wrist. Bora needs Minji to break theirs with a flick of her wrist.
She needs to be free from her because she can’t live with a soulmate she could never love.
“I can’t cut strings that connect to mine,” Minji whispers, desperation in her voice, “I tried, Bora. I swear I did.”
Bora doesn’t even look at her, couldn’t stand the crack in her voice, refused to see the tremble in her hands because she doesn’t care. Bora would never care.
“Try harder.”
Siyeon is beautiful.
Hands intertwined, feet dangling off the rooftop as they stare at the sparkle of the city lights at night, like some romantic cliché she’d heard from Minji but she loves it, Bora loves it because it’s Siyeon. Siyeon with the short midnight blue hair and her cigarettes unlike Minji’s flowing red hair and the pastel pink pillows she holds on. Siyeon is sharp edges with breathtaking smiles against Minji’s soft ones. Siyeon is wild and free and intoxicating, no strings to hold her like Minji’s, all gasoline and motorbikes and fast food chains instead of the smell of coffee Bora usually wakes up too.
Siyeon is everything Bora loves.
“Did you know I don’t have a soulmate, unnie?” Siyeon starts and Bora perks up, her heart lightening at the words and she leans closer, head resting on the younger girl’s shoulder as a smile grazes her lips.
