XIV
FAUX PAS
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YEOSANG WAS TWENTY MINUTES LATE.
Minni had been deliberately counting down the minutes until seven. Anxiety kept her on her feet. She had been ready over an hour ago, far too soon. The rest of the time was filled with mindless pacing. Checking the windows to make sure they were closed. Wriggling the door knobs to test the locks.
Now, she stared, eyes heavy and dull as she stood before in front of the floor-length mirror hung in the entryway. She could hardly recognize herself anymore. In a month, she had gone from ambitious and optimistic to a hollow shell. She was getting fed up with acting like someone she was not.
Not to mention her current get-up.
She blew out a breath and slid her hand over it, watching the thick fabric shift with the movement. The dress was beautiful in its simplicity. It fell to her knees in a wash of black, the lace paneling around the collar bordered by pearls. It was something too expensive, too soft, for someone like her.
She had nearly rejected it when Seulgi dropped it off days ago, stopped only by her glare and insistence that she keep it. For better or worse, Min was one of them now. She didn't have a choice but to fall in line and look the part while doing it. No one was above reminding her of that.
Halfway through her next round of the apartment, her phone finally buzzed.
(1) New text from unknown number:
Outside. Hurry up.
Her gaze swung to the window.
Sure enough, there were headlights filtering through the curtains, the purr of an engine idling just outside. Rolling her eyes, she took two seconds to make sure the swiss army knife she had tucked away earlier was still in the matching clutch. Then, she was out of the door and down the steps.
He had his back to her, cigarette smoke rising into the air where he was leaning against the hood. Even as she stepped closer, he seemed intent on staring into space.
"You're late."
He turned. His shoulders tensed for a moment as his eyes landed on her, the movement clunky to the point of clumsiness. Half of his face was eclipsed by the headlights, features muddied and unclear, but even then she could tell that he was staring.
It was not pervasive, but it was unwelcome, odd in its weight. Even stranger in its emptiness.
It was rare that she found herself under the same microscope she subjected others to. She didn't like it, not knowing what he saw in her or what he thought of it.
"What?" she spat, pulling her arms tighter around herself.
Blinking a few times, he shook his head and freed her from the prison that was his gaze. It didn't escape her notice that his silhouette was more rigid, like a statue looming in the shadows. His chin lifted in the direction of the dress, the movement the only thing reminding her that he was human.
"Doesn't suit you." He might as well have been talking about the weather with the emotionless certainty held in his voice. Somehow that was worse than the humiliation of a blatant insult.
That, she was used to. This was something entirely different.
"Excuse me?"
The next second he was already moving away as if nothing had happened, slipping away into the backseat and closing the door behind him. Min forced her jaw off of the ground to follow. As much as she wanted to flip him off and march herself back into her bed, no one disobeyed Juyeon, and Yeosang wasn't worth the consequences of that.
Kevin and Jennie could be easily thrown into this. She had more than herself to think about now. Her shaky hands buckled her seat belt, shooting daggers in his direction.
Where she usually would have shook the comment off, recent events had shortened her fuse. Severely.
That, and, if she admitted it to herself, being around pompous, spoiled brats who now picked apart her appearance everyday hadn't done wonders for her self-esteem. It was not enough to make her life a living hell. They also had control over every inch of it. What she wore, who she spoke to, what she could and could not say. She felt like a live-wire, sparking and wanting for the chance to ignite.
"What's your fucking problem?" She seethed openly, words doused in venom. She was pushing, hoping he'd push back.
He didn't give, but he didn't have to. The responding shrug and the incline of his head were answer enough. Even though he was still now, she was struck with the image of him whirling around, stare hard enough to break someone less hardened than her.
You. Always you.
He ran one of his hands down his face, the pad of his thumb soothing his cheek, instead of answering verbally. She almost wished he had. It would have been easier that way. Would have given her another thread to pick at even if it was abject hatred. Better directed at him than at herself.
Instead, her emotions flickered like a dying sun, temperamental as they always were. The anger and embarrassment ran headfirst into anxiety. Anxiety spilled over into self-condemnation. She fidgeted with her charm bracelet, jingling it once then three times.
This was going to be a long night.
"Asshole," she grumbled under her breath before resting her head against the window and watching the scenery fly by. It was not long before the car pulled to a stop outside of Emerald Gardens, Newhurst's largest and most frequented park. Similarly dressed people in black and white gowns and suits strolled along the sidewalks, disappearing beyond a curve in the tree-lined path.
Min did not hesitate to get out, forcing the door shut a little too hard for good measure. She heard the driver protest, a muffled exclamation escaping her ears.
It was petty. It was childish. The brief glare on Yeosang's face was worth it anyway. Let him be as uncomfortable as she was. It was only fair.
He climbed to his full height outside of the vehicle, stepping around it to follow her onto the path. She hadn't had too good a view of him in the dim lighting of her street. Here, under these much brighter and nicer streetlamps, she could see everything.
Hair unstyled on his head as if he had combed through it with only his fingers moments prior. Dark circles under his eyes, not unlike her own. The navy tie looped around his neck was crooked. His feet dragged as they walked through the park, teeth gnawing at his lip.
He seemed more on edge than usual. Restrained, maybe, like every bone in his body would have preferred to bolt in the opposite direction. That much, she related to at least.
She bit her cheek, unable to resist sending a question his way. It was genuine, even if it was laced with the underlying irritation she felt. His arrogance, his tardiness, his silence, his everything—all of it was grating on her nerves at the moment.
"Did you roll out of bed and come straight here?"
His head turned in her direction, expression unreadable, but eyes flaring. She was beginning to notice they always did that. He could bury himself all he wanted, but they would always give him away eventually.
"Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"
She grit her teeth. A sick part of herself was soothed by his anger. She could handle that better than silence. It gave her something to work with, something to pick at other than her own wounds.
She threw her hands up, breathing a laugh that was all insult and no injury. "Can't say I do."
His brow twitched at the same time his lips did. It was too smug to be a smile, too weak to be a smirk. "Maybe you should. Would have certainly saved you a few times."
He was right. She hated that he was right. The words would have hurt less coming from anyone else. She turned to face him, every word that fell from her lips scathing in their truth.
"From you or just the rest of you?"
He was facing away from her now, his features barely distinguishable from darkness. "Does it matter?"
She pored over the question in her mind. Maybe it didn't. She felt like it mattered. Something about him was different from the others, but as for what, she didn't know. It was like staring at a photo out of focus. The anomalies were visible, but not clear.
Their voices died after that. No matter how much the both of them disliked each other, neither had the energy to spare on an argument. They both were here at Juyeon's behest.
Him, to catch a glimpse of a stalker. Her, to catch a glimpse of some hidden, untouchable side of him. She doubted the latter would happen. He already knew her intentions through and through. It would take the world to make him slip up now and she couldn't be bothered to try.
The gabled roof of the pavilion where the event was held could be seen over the treetops.
Min wrapped her arms a little tighter around herself at the sight of it, daring to speed up a little bit to get the night over with. No one had bothered to tell her what the event was about, but judging by the people around them donned in elaborate fabrics, she assumed it was more rich people culture.
She assumed wrong.
At the base of the hill where the pavilion sat, a sign had been erected on the side of the stone path. Her step faltered as she read the lettering.
A Celebration of Memory: The Bright Life of Somin.
Her head whipped in Yeosang's direction instantly. He walked ahead of her, displaying no visible reaction to the event other than the stiffness with which he held himself.
He already knew.
Of course he did. No wonder he had seemed so withdrawn earlier. No wonder he had rushed out of the meeting like that a week ago. She was the only one left in the dark, as she always was. She stood at the base of the hill for a moment, eyes dragging up to the looming structure ahead. Breathing a sigh, she forced her heavy feet forward.
···✧···
"Somin lit up any room she walked into." The woman's arms moved emphatically, before reaching for a handkerchief to dab away a tear. A man was behind her, his arm thrown loosely over her shoulder as if keeping her standing. "She was a ray of light in a dark world. Tender and kind."
Min may not have known who they were outside of context clues, but she had recognized them the second she sat down. Their eyes gave them away. Too similar, angular and all dark, hard lines. The same pair that followed her into nightmares, dreams, and even her waking life. So reminiscent of the dull ones that life had leeched from on top of that car.
Her parents. Somin's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Han. There they were, in the flesh and mourning in public for all to see. They spoke about Somin's background. The dreams she would never get to realize.
Apparently, in between tripping innocent strangers, she wished to dance on the world stage. She drew in her free time, visited the coast every summer with family. Leading up to her death, she had grown distant from everyone in her life, self-destructive, but still hopeful.
Minni tuned it all out after that.
She understood what that was like, and she didn't want to. She didn't want to know Somin this intimately and she sure as hell didn't want to see herself in her. She didn't like knowing Somin the artist, Somin the dreamer, Somin the lover.
It was sick, but she preferred her as one big just.
Just Somin, just that one dead dancer, just a memory. Where she couldn't hurt her or anyone else.
The speech was one thing, much easier to force into background noise. The photos took the breath out of her, stitched permanently behind her eyelids. She was forced to witness Somin's humanity. This would haunt her, she was certain of it.
Childhood photographs that flashed on the projector and her heart sank. What had happened in her life to turn her into the vicious woman she became?
This event was too small. It was intimate, private. Minni didn't belong here. She looked away out of respect, feeling like a voyeur into Somin's personal life. This was a side of the girl she would rather be blind to.
Her fingers clutched the fabric of the dress and her eyes clenched shut for a moment. She only opened them when she heard the chair next to her scoot backward. The sound was not loud, but it was abrupt.
Yeosang had stood, his fists clenched, face several shades lighter. His eyes were galaxies in their own right, the emotions playing on his face downright nebulous. Hard to pin down, but so much there. She stared at them, committing the moment to memory, burnt by the intensity of it.
Seconds later she could only look at his back as he turned stiffly and disappeared into the trees. She swallowed the knot in her throat, forcing herself to face forward again.
Another photo had been projected in the time that she was not paying attention. Every single pixel made her eyes widen. Even though they seemed younger—their faces a little rounder, a little kinder—anyone with eyes could tell it was Somin and Yeosang. Graduation caps sat on their heads, their forms donned with stoles, tassels, and the pride of accomplishment. His hair was a little shorter, not yet dyed. His lips curved in a smile that matched hers.
They looked too different. They looked happy.
Min forced her eyes to the table and rested her face in her hands. As much as she needed to dig for every available bit of information about Yeosang, seeing this didn't sit right with her. It didn't feel fair either. She buried that look on his face deep in her tangled mind, resigning herself to forget it even if she knew she couldn't.
By the time the slideshows and speeches ended, he still had not returned. Min set about busying herself by lingering on the edges of the crowd, keeping her gaze to herself lest anyone there be spurred into conversation with her. She shifted on her feet, eventually too high-strung to keep still, and made her way to the refreshments table.
Her shaky hands settled on a coffee, carefully adding more sugar than she usually would just to feel something.
A voice came from her right.
"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one getting the coffee. Soothes the nerves."
Minni blinked, stunned to see Somin's mother herself standing next to her, talking to her without a clue in the world. There they were—the woman there for the birth of a walking nightmare, and the woman who witnessed the end of it. The irony was not lost on her.
Her tongue was heavy, stuck to the roof of her mouth, voice thick. She reached for words, contemplating an apology, or some other generic statement about loss.
After several moments, she hesitantly settled on, "Yes. Thank you for having me."
"No, thank you for coming. I don't see many of Somin's friends around anymore, unfortunately."
If Somin's mother herself coming to talk to her had shocked Minni, the idea of them as friends was downright chilling. She had been nothing more than dirt under Somin's shoe. Even her disdain paled in comparison to Somin's outright disregard for her.
Min smoothed her expression into something less horrified before facing the woman again. The lies usually came easier the more she told them. Min could justify a little manipulation if it saved her neck.
Not this time. Every word burned like ash in her mouth. She would still taste them that night when she laid down to sleep.
"Oh. I wouldn't say we were that close."
Mrs. Han smiled gently, soothingly, in the way that only a mother could. She shook her head knowingly.
"No, honey. You were. Our Somin wasn't big on words, but..." Her wrinkled hand reached out for Minni, straightening one of her scallop-shaped cuffs that had twisted in on itself. Her eyes softened a smidge. "She wouldn't have given that dress to a stranger."
It felt like the ground had just been ripped from underneath her feet. She wished it would hurry up and swallow her faster.
"Oh." Min choked out, the words gruff and hollow in her dry throat. "Really?"
"It was her favorite. Said she wanted to wear it if she ever got proposed to." Her head tilted, eyes fogged over as if spirited away by the distant memory. Her smile returned a few seconds later, its edges noticeably sadder. "You should keep it. To remember her by."
Min was going to drown. She wanted to throw up, to pull the stupid dress off and burn it.
"Thank you." Her mouth opened and closed for a moment. She couldn't tell if she was trying to find a response or desperately get in more air before she suffocated. "I should probably find my friend."
Her voice sounded weak to her own ears, her thumb jutted uselessly at a random spot over her shoulder.
Mrs. Han did not call her on it. Just looked at her, eyes knowing and voice soft with more sympathy than she deserved.
"You're a nice girl, Minni. I wish you the best."
Somehow those words were her undoing. She was far from a nice girl. She was a fraud, wearing her dead daughter's dress and smiling in her face like she hadn't despised the bitch the entire time she was alive.
She managed a wobbly, thin-lipped farewell, then turned and walked away. She kept her face even, her back straight, her trembling hands holding her cup as she winded through the other guests. The music was buzzing in her ears, her vision blurring, eyes stinging, and cheeks wet with tears.
The second she made it behind the cover of a tree, her courage ran out half-way down the hill and she ran. The back of the gifted Mary Janes chaffed her heel and still, she ran.
It was like her mind had disconnected from the body. Her hands would not stop shaking no matter how much she willed them to. Her lips would not close, each breath wheezy. Her ribs felt too small to contain the thudding of her heart.
She found herself hunched against a tree for support, forearm leaned on the bark.
She swore her wrist ached even though she knew logically that the pain was imaginary. She remembered that sensation of being tripped, the feeling of falling. This felt a lot like that. Felt a lot like waiting for her turn.
"You're dead. Won't you just leave me the fuck alone already?" she hissed to the silent, night air, unsurprised when no one answered. She looked crazy. Maybe she was for all she knew. Could anyone stay sane like this? If Somin could see her now, she'd probably be laughing.
Min should have known better. Shame, embarrassment, and guilt hit her all at once.
That dress had Somin written all over it—dark, feminine, lacy. Her head spun with so many thoughts all at once, one louder than the rest. It was a crescendo ringing in her ears. She reached to cover one with her free hand, but it persisted.
Doesn't suit you. Doesn't suit you. Doesn't-
A swear rumbled low in her throat as she roughly wiped away a few tears. What an idiot she had been. She wished she could go back in time, swallow up all of those words she had been so quick to throw in his direction.
She hadn't known. But she should have.
The Night was playing dress up with her every other day now. Seulgi had hand delivered the entire outfit to her doorstep, smiling in her face as if they weren't sending her into the lion's den. As if she were doing her a favor.
They could pretend to be her friend all they wanted, but no matter how she looked or what she wore, she would never be their equal.
This entire evening was a set up. They were playing with their food. It was twisted, but tonight had been a lesson she never wanted to learn. One meant for more than just her.
Min felt like she was sinking on unstable footing as the realization sprung from the recesses of her mind.
If they could be so cruel as to weaponize Somin's death to one of their own, maybe they really did want Yeosang dead. They loved to taunt him with the threat of it.
···✧···
Only when the panic faded to a dull throb in her chest did Minni force herself back to the path. The crickets chirped in the dark, a soft breeze reminding her of the cold sweat beading at her hairline. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, stumbling forward slowly.
"Minni?"
A shiver danced down her spine. She cursed the world for horrible timing as she spun. Even in the murky night, she recognized the tan trench coat, the austerity in his expression from afar.
So it was true. Mrs. Han had hired him.
His jaw worked for a moment, his lips clearly forming her a question even if she could not hear it from here.
She could hazard a guess. For someone who pretended not to know Somin, it would stick out to him that she had shown up at her memorial.
Min's lies had carefully woven into a web of her own doing. With each one, the harder it became to navigate. Eyes wide and guilty, she dropped her gaze to her feet and walked away. She intentionally weaved her way between the trees, but Seonghwa did not follow.
She needed to find Yeosang and get out of there. A part of her was tempted to find her own way home, but it was late, and he was her ride.
It didn't take her long to locate him. He was on the bridge that spanned half of the duck pond. His back was pressed against the fence, head craned to the sky, a cigarette lit and flickering between his lips. The water was still behind him, unlike the pools that were his eyes.
Minni rested against the same fence in the opposite direction, elbows planted on the wood and coffee cup next to her. She stared blankly at the ripples in the pond as they caught light from nearby streetlamps, but watched him in her peripheral vision.
She expected him to level her with his usual grimace or one of those dark glares, but he hardly moved at all. It was like she wasn't even there. After everything, it just didn't matter anymore. He wasn't the worst part of her night anymore and she suspected she never had been his.
She found her voice and it sounded foreign to her own ears in its hesitance. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" He dropped his chin, but did not look at her. She couldn't blame him for that. She couldn't even look at her moonlit reflection in the murky water below without feeling ill. "Keeping an eye out for the stalker. Like you were supposed to be doing."
She could blame him for that last part though. Irritation warmed her throat, a sting she was becoming accustomed to like alcohol burning on the way down. It was easy to get drunk on that feeling around him. It wasn't a pleasant distraction, but it was a distraction nonetheless. She'd take that any day.
She hummed in faux thought, tightening her hold on the rails. "So that's what you were doing earlier too then?"
His head whipped in her direction so fast she half-expected to hear a snap. Smoke blew from his lips with a sharp exhale. The look on his face bordered on feral, more expressive and clear than she'd ever seen it.
"I was minding my business."
He didn't say the rest, but he didn't have to. His characterization of her, the reminder that she was her own worst enemy, hit a sore nerve.
"Oh. That's rich," Min laughed. The sound felt so unlike her, but then again, she hardly even knew who she was anymore outside of this. The resentment bubbled in her throat, announcing its presence in her dry mouth. "You mind your business in my diary that night too?"
He was the reason she was in all of the mess to begin with, the singular point she could identify where everything went wrong. If she had never heard that stupid conversation at Drierston, if he had never gone through her diary, she would be anywhere but here.
It was his fault. It hardly mattered that the others were plotting against him. That did not automatically make them allies. That fact could not be forgotten.
He took a long drag, somehow having the decency to look away. If she didn't know better, she'd sum it up to a guilty conscience.
"Do you ever stop with the moral high ground bullshit? You have bigger problems now than some diary." Despite the harshness of each word, his tone had lightened. She raised an eyebrow, the motion both pointed and confused.
"Do you ever stop being an ass?"
"Do we have to do this here?" He trailed off, shaking his head as if to disperse a thought. He waved her off abruptly. It was a cop-out. One she couldn't argue with. "Just drop it. You think you can handle that?"
Her mouth hung open for a moment, but she said nothing. A jogger came along the path, running past them and back around the bend. They spared a brief look in their direction before continuing on. It pulled her out of herself instantly, reminded her where she was and what she was meant to be doing.
She closed her mouth.
The fact that he was stuck at his ex-girlfriend's memorial, a stranger wearing the dress he used to see her in, was enough to make her feel bad. No matter who he was, this was too much.
She was from the notorious Cape Freewell. She knew death, she had seen grief. She saw it in him then, no matter how hard he tried to keep it earthed.
"Yeah," she breathed after a moment, feeling like she just swallowed a pound of dirt. She crossed her arms along the railing and rested her chin against them. "Maybe not your cigarette smoke, though."
It was a half-hearted attempt at levity. Far from an olive branch, but something to lighten the air that had gotten too heavy. Judging by the way he looked at her, features losing some of their edge, he recognized the need for it too.
"We all have our vices." He gestured toward her cup of coffee before lifting the cigarette to his lips again and shrugging. "That bland shit is yours. This is mine."
"Yours might kill you though." It sounded holier-than-thou even to her own ears, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't an uncommon pastime back in Cape Freewell, but the memories associated with it were far from good.
"If I'm lucky," he said. She almost blanched at how somber it sounded. "There are worse ways to go."
He twisted his body to extinguish the cigarette, pushing the head of it into the wood until the embers died. Her eyes clung to it, watching almost mindlessly as the ash was carried away by wind.
Blinking away blood and twisted limbs, she swallowed the knot in her throat and tried her best to shake it off. She made it a point not to look at him as she pushed herself off of the railings.
"Look, I don't think this stalker is going to show up."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, so much unsaid but clear nonetheless. The entire night was as pointless as it gets. A stranger, a stalker, at an event like this would stick out like a sore thumb. She doubted they'd be foolish enough to risk their cover like that. She'd bet money that Juyeon knew that too.
"Probably not."
She breathed in slowly, watching her breath fog on the way out. "Wanna ditch?"
His head tilted in her direction, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. There it was again, that look, like he couldn't quite figure her out. She felt her skin itch under the weight of it. Her fingers ghosted a spot underneath her eye subconsciously as if to rub it away.
"Ditch?" he echoed, incredulously.
"Ditch." She forced her eyes up to the stars instead of whatever was flickering behind his eyes. Both options sucked. The night sky reminded her too much of her dad, too much of home. "I'd rather be home right now. Judging by the look on your face, I think you do too."
Something different was coloring her voice now. It would be a stretch to call it kindness. It was too self-serving for that, but it was merciful if nothing else. She had sworn up and down he didn't deserve it, but she had given it to him nonetheless by handing him an out. Maybe she should have took that as a sign that nothing here would ever be as simple as she wanted it to be.
He exhaled something that sounded like a laugh or a veiled dig. She couldn't decide which.
"I figured. I just thought you'd be too afraid of Juyeon finding out to even bother asking."
The mention soured her mood further. She was hit by the memory of their last conversation, remembering how she implied that she would get answers out of Yeosang by flirting with him, seducing him, getting him to fall for her.
Or something like that. She couldn't even be sure what she had meant.
The Night getting a hold of those photos had been something she didn't account for. She was just trying to buy herself time.
She had been so eager to hide the fact that she had waltzed into Yeosang's home—showed her entire hand, and left with nothing to show for aside from forbidden knowledge of another murder plot that The Night may be brewing—that she threw herself into even deeper waters.
She still wanted to hit herself for that. It would find its way back to him eventually, just as everything else had.
She scowled, more at herself than him for once. "He can go fuck himself-"
This time, it was an obvious laugh that tickled her ears. Weak, but there, and resonant like wind whistling through chimes.
"So you finally realized he's not going to give you an out?"
"-And so can you," she amended belatedly, gnawing at her cheek. She was too exhausted to continue with the games, the constant walking on eggshells. All she wanted was to sleep, to be away from all of this madness. "Do you want to go or not?"
His answer wasn't straightforward. Nothing with him ever was. His agreement only became evident when he moved to step off of the bridge, hardly sparing her a look as he set off along the path.
She finished her now cold coffee in one go, tossing it in the trash before trailing a few paces behind him. She was perfectly content to keep her distance.
They retraced their steps back toward the main gate, passing the pavilion. A part of herself pulled taut preemptively, wholly underprepared for a confrontation by Seonghwa, but he was nowhere to be found. The crowd of guests had thinned too, but Mrs. Han was still there in all of her teary-eyed glory, reverently arranging flowers before Somin's portrait.
Minni would have rather watched the back of Yeosang's head instead, too afraid of catching her eye. She nearly jumped when instead of hair, she faced a pair of dark eyes, keen and intelligent.
"Keep up," he said impatiently, waving her along.
Much of the earlier adrenaline in her veins had faded in exchange for something much more sluggish. Several things managed to escape her, exhaustion and the deceptive safety of having someone near her had muted the senses that would usually be alert.
Yeosang saw the things she didn't.
Her feet continued to carry her forward mindlessly, not even realizing he had stopped until his hand abruptly yanked her back several steps and against a tree. Panic swirled in her chest, threatening to choke her with a million different scenarios where this could end badly, but his eyes were not fixed on her at all. His fingers dug into her forearm, depressing the fabric of her sleeves to keep her steady.
"What?" She craned her head around the tree to see what had him so transfixed. He blocked her before any part of her could escape the supposed safety of the shadows.
"Quiet," he hissed, voice so scathing that she nearly apologized. To an outsider, it may have looked like a comforting hold, but his hate-filled scowl was directed too far ahead for that and his grasp was too tight.
She wriggled her fingers and he dropped his hand instantly, as if stung by the dress or the mere reminder that he was touching her.
"What is it?" she said again, softer this time, and she did not try to peek again.
"Just hold on." His voice was even on the surface, but made breathy by alarm. His eyes flickered left and right, scanning and quick, as if battling several thoughts at once. He looked at her for a moment, seemingly decided. "Stay here."
"Why?"
Her wide-eyes were glued to his face, carefully observing every bit of nuance in his expression. She saw the tight set of his jaw, the almost nervous bob of his throat. She couldn't see beyond the tree, but she remembered enough of the park layout to know that he was staring in the direction of the gate. Where his car was supposed to pick them up.
"Just do it."
"You can't be serious." She hated how weak her own voice sounded despite her attempts to keep calm.
"I am." He grimaced, his irritation and laser-sharp focus a dizzying mixture. "Don't move."
He took one step back, almost uncertain. By the second, he seemed so sure of himself that she almost thought she imagined it. His shoulders disappeared around the bark and she listened carefully as the sound of leaves crunching beneath his shoes got further away.
Eventually, she heard the distant, unintelligible rumble of voices. They were too far to say with any real clarity, but she doubted the meeting was friendly based on his earlier reaction to whatever he had seen. She was becoming too familiar with the way he wore fear. There seemed to be no scarcity of it recently.
It became him, practically indistinguishable from his resting stature unless you had a careful eye. Proud as he was, he wore it like a badge even as the noose looped tighter around his neck.
Right. He had plenty to be afraid of if he truly thought The Night was planning to execute him. After tonight, she believed that theory a little more.
Minni squinted her eyes closed until color bloomed behind her eyelids. She warred with herself. Her hand clenched as if she could hold the memory in it, turn it over, and examine all of its edges and intricacies.
Fix this.
She could find her own way home, be in bed in the next half hour, forget she ever saw that wide-eyed look painting his face until his skin paled several shades lighter. Yeosang could handle himself.
She shook the thought away, swallowing the bitter aftertaste it left in her mouth. Her morals, tainted and hypocritical as they were now, had won. They always did. Self-preservation be damned.
You care. Too much.
Altruism or curiosity or spite, whatever it was that fueled her hardly mattered now. She pushed her wobbly legs forward, creeping out from behind the tree to follow after them.
//
The slow burn will be burning soon. If you're still here reading after all this time, I love and appreciate you!! Life's ups and downs be damned, I can't wait to get into the thick of this story.
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate!! Muah <3
-sav