"What do you think?"
Handong stares at the ring resting upon a cushioned box. Its display was everything you see from jewelry stores behind transparent counters, from films where a significant other professes their love mending red strings for eternity with their beloved, from where a daunting responsibility will suffice once an oath is taken, and from where Handong can see her future - her liberty crumbling with each seconds ticking, the nights where she wishes this day will never come began burning, the air suddenly suffocating her every intake as fear raptures her indefinitely and Yubin’s questioning look was unbecoming to tolerate any longer.
Her companion for the night stilled, hands quaking slightly midst the tension hanging in the air.
There was a beat of silence, then a skidded chair -- harsh on the ground -- as Handong grabbed for her purse and left the restaurant with trepidation devouring her senses.
She has to get out of here.
And subconsciously, like a habit, she dials the recent number she always unlists. Ear strained to the device, hands clammy, and breathing narrowing the more it stalls.
When the receiver picked up, a subtle relief washed over her, “I’m on my way,” they say, knowing a chime was enough to understand her.
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” Bora passed Handong her pack of cigarettes, mouth curved in a way so mischievous one would have thought she was the one offering nicotine to the other, “being here, especially at,” she briefs a sight on her cracked wrist watch, “2 am?”
Her companion lets out a chuckle, the kind that just forces it out because she can’t give a concise answer, because, obviously, she has no reason to be elsewhere, “Since when do you care?” a smirk played on her scarlet lips, tone not harsh, but enough to make Bora drop the question.
They were lying on the hood of Bora’s newly polished car. It’s to cover up the age of the third handed vehicle, Bora mentioned a few meetings before, hand waving with no care but her chalance was evident for Handong to discern.
She breathes out a tail of wispy smoke, dissolving in the air right after it shortly appears.
"It's not that I do," Bora pipes in, waving away Handong's cigar exhalation that drifted approximately and sat up, leaning onto palms pressing tips of her jacket ( its sleeves were longer than her wrists) on the metallic surface of the car, “more like," she scratches an invisible itch from her nose, unsure, "since when do you not ?"
Handong doesn’t let the comment sink in for she was aware. All too much.
She wasn’t the rendezvous type, or the rebel one - tries not to be, she swears - anyone has seen in fictional novels and movies. Taking all the risk, never minding about the consequences that’ll come forth after tasting the sweet breath of freedom.
She’s never adventurous in a dangerous kind, and would rather seek comfort in the corners of her room where she’d written wishes on flimsy strips of paper and stick them to her walls, creating an abstract sentiment that describes her internal longing, that maybe the dreams and ambitions she might commit in the near future could be attained - through almost bleak chances, but nonetheless, didn’t garner any hesitancy. She delved in her own capabilities, replacing her limitations with something wondrous, the ones that can be reached, particulars she could indulge instead. She pushes, to not only impress her parents that only regarded her for their own agendas marking her skin for competence - the sole standard they’d accept - but to also give herself temporary solace, to condition herself that this is what she was born for, to be beyond common, to be something extraordinary; and maybe they would look at her different when she reaches the bar. It was set in her mind, tedious for some but a list of essentials for Handong to always keep in touch with. The discipline etched into her, like a growth of a second limb, and she would be regarded as the model daughter in every gathering she has been dragged in.
Only Gahyeon made everything tolerable. The young little rebel would always lift Handong’s monotonous and tiring everyday life, there was never a day where she wasn’t entertained by Gahyeon’s outbursts and appalled gasps when Handong would share how she’s behind every trend that’ll surface and would only learn them recently ever since she had made friendship with her. Gahyeon was delighted to educate Handong, either way - her words, not Handong’s.
Unfortunately, Gahyeon’s companionship can’t be maintained - sooner than she had anticipated. Both had their own responsibilities, Handong understood. Moreover as heirs of their companies, fate was deadset. As they overcome years, their freedom diminishes. Their frequent calls would be strained, and monitored. To avoid guttering down the family’s reputation, they say.
And with that, she became intense with her immersive developments, thinking to herself that perhaps trying a taste of something different, no matter the littlest of change, was a hilarious dream she thought could become her diversion. It was stupid. It was a farce to cultivate in. Downright her greatest shame so far. Now, she must repent for her mistaken appeasement.
Isolation was the result.
But her box can only fit certain things and would later fill up; no more space enough for her ideas to expand, the experiences contained, and mundane routines repeatedly ramming onto her till she vomits, collapsing everything.
At some point, she decided to just burn them all.
At some point, a vent opens itself.
At some point, she realizes inevitables are nonetheless alive.
And at some point, she began to believe once again (she glances at Bora’s earnest smile while chattering about how they should go to Minji’s bakery this week because she created a new recipe and there was a twenty percent discount on each dozen packages they buy. Handong smiled, telling Bora that Minji should have lessen the markdown and lectured how just because it’s a new recipe doesn’t mean there should be any percentages off, rather she should endorse it with bigger signages to promote it better - Bora yells with disagreement, telling her to not give the redhead hag any ideas because Bora needed the cut off) that even in the tiniest miracle, can mean her whole world.
Handong held Bora’s midget palms, absentmindedly fiddling with the edges of her jacket, attempting to create comfort in the smallest of gestures before the dawn climbs itself to the horizon. It was scary, the memory of the evening ending, giving birth to a new tomorrow that neither really wanted to occur. Scared was an understatement, but it was all she can think of: the definiteness of all things, the point of bridges and lines coming to a rest.
Bora didn’t seem to notice Handong was smiling underneath the fading night sky with its dying stars, because all she could make sense of was the feeling of her freezing prints against soft and delicate drawls, lulling her into deep reverie of this moment lasting forever.
“Is it bad that I’m here then?” Handong mutters, the bags under her eyes more prominent when the fading moon shone slightly at an angle Bora can perceive. It isn’t as if she’s being oblivious, she knows Bora can sense that there was something wrong. She isn’t vocal about it, that’s for sure, and Bora respects that (she thinks). And maybe the feeble consciousness was preventing her to control the conversation, to steer it away from the possible forth of a question she wants to avoid; that something has been different from their usual meet-ups and useless banters. She can ascertain mutuality coming off from Bora, but is too afraid to touch the subject - more so her.
She didn’t do anything about it, either way.
“No, not really,” Bora lays back down, feeling the hard-mounted area. She moved her head to the side, leaning on Handong’s diminishing dye from her strands with the waft of an expensive shampoo - Bora would never know how to pronounce its name - invading her sense of smell.
“This is nice, having not to follow a schedule every once in a while,” She comments, focusing on the starless sky, the urge to rewind at large.
“Yeah,” Handong nods, her cheek riled up a bit by Bora’s head, “It’s getting harder to sneak out these days, especially with my family trying to get me and Yubin together in a room”
“Well that sucks”
“Tell me about it,” Handong ran her fingers through wavy dimming hair, “I’m sorta lucky Yubin managed to convince them that that sort of thing wasn’t necessary at all. I was so ready to snap back at them if she didn’t intervene”
Bora snorted, “I would have,” She popped a finger as she continued, “It’s bullshit. Typical and boring. I’m honestly surprised to see you not screaming about it”
“Oh, but I was if you could consider this as one,” Handong smirked, getting up from her flatten position and began stretching her muscles with exaggeration.
“What are you doing?”
Bora’s question was answered when Handong breathes out a yell, hands cupping the opening of her mouth to amplify it. It resounded into their eardrums, mixing in was Bora’s gasp and the hushes she chants to cut off the screams.
Handong never had much freedom, so something as simple as shouting her lungs out with all of her pent up frustrations (her curses running free, her flailing limbs in the air that she considers as childish) have given her so much emotion rushing into her veins, throbbing and aching with excitement that can never be replaced. She heaves, pulling Bora by her side to do the same.
"Oh my god, no"
"C'mon! It's fun!" Handong spares a glance, her smile the widest Bora has ever seen, the brightest star she had laid her sight upon. Better than her scopes stationed outside her window sill.
A twitch or an itch? fingers flaming to reach.
Bora couldn't resist conceding. Deep-seated enthrallment tugging her upwards.
Perhaps this is where Bora finally stops with the haul that has dragged her headless, especially with the nights that have made her stay up.
“So,” Handong respires, hand occupied with a carbonated drink she always hates but nonetheless intakes because these beverages are banned from her own home, “Tell me something I don’t know”
Bora was busy popping the bottle’s cap when she stopped, averting her focus to Handong, albeit with a stutter because of the abruptness, “Why?”
Handong shrugs, her mouth tasting the fizz before replying, “I don’t know. Just something to talk about since signal’s dead here”
Right. That was why they picked this area. To avoid the reception that could track her.
“If that’s the case,” Bora stood up from where she crouches, tossing the bottle opener in her car seat before climbing up the vehicle again, “did you know that strawberries are one of the dirtiest foods, along with apples and peaches?”
Handong snorts, “Uhmm, okay. Totally not what I have in mind, but I’ll take it,” The red-head swigs another sip and giggled.
“Well, what am I supposed to say then?”
Handong pursed her lips, deep in thought.
“What about telling one of our secrets that no one knows about?”
Bora guffaws, almost slapping her thigh out of instinct, “What are we? Thirteen?”
Handong placed down her now empty cola and pouts, “C’mon! It’ll be fun, in a way. Since I did mention to say secrets no one in this world knows but you”
“And then what? Embarrass ourselves because apparently it’s entertaining?” Bora halts a bit, pondering, “Okay fine, maybe it will be once I do get something out of it” She adds, smug evident.
Handong fixes her dress a bit and the jacket around her shoulders that are too big for her (because it’s from Bora and Bora’s shoulders are broad and reliable and warm to lean on), preceding a smirk, “Alright. I’ll pay for the desserts you eat at Minji’s bakery”
“Deal”
“Okay, you go first,” Handong gestures, her smile not withdrawing as Bora taps her finger under her chin, mocking a way of thinking.
Bora then snaps her fingers when she recalls, “I have been eating Siyeon’s share with Minji in the bakery”
“Oh my god you didn’t”
“I was doing it since those losers decided to open up for business. Not my fault Siyeon’s dumb ass is not keeping check of her disappearing macaroons,” Bora held up her hand in defense, clearly not guilty and just amused with Handong’s laugh echoing in the dawn’s fetching.
“That’s evil,” Handong hisses jokingly, “You could have just told me you wanted more whenever we go there”
“I have my pride to keep,” Hand on her fist, Bora straightened and puffed her cheeks.
“There is no pride now since I already know of your schemes”
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Now that I have you to pay for my desserts, I don’t see why I need to hide it any longer”
Handong agreed, her heart suddenly picking up pace when she thought of something bold. Something she has never done before and that crosses more lines than she had ever counted - beyond the escapes she had always managed to do when things got too much in her shelter.
“So,” Bora started, fingers tight around her ankles when she settled on the hood after placing their trash in a plastic bag, “What’s yours?”
Handong ironically wants to burst out laughing right now, because in the first place, Bora was right.
Bora was always right.
From not intaking a lot of smoke in her first try, from saying that carbonated drinks are sweet and bubbly, from changing her hair to dull locks into fiery crimson to signify her bravery, from wearing enormous shirts better than clothes that hugs her figure too much and her skin gets too tight, from eating and balancing what she eats three times a day because Bora knows her modelling career’s only beginning and that not eating just to lay off weight is an error in the mindset, from Minji’s macaroons being delicious, from Siyeon being the idiot but a caring and a loyal girlfriend to Minji despite her intimidating looks, from jesting Handong for not believing she’ll not fall for Bora because she’s hella charming, and from mentioning how keeping up with Yubin because of her parents is not worth it.
She was always right to begin with.
So when Bora notes about the sudden rumbling of the clouds and its approaching downpour, Handong finally took this chance to continue the path of what she thinks is considered to be true and right enough to remain in her heart forever.
Each pound resonates in her ears, echoing from her ribcage, were conveying signals all over -- doubting, but also instigating a stroke so dauntless Handong was smoldering all over.
Handong grabbed for Bora’s flannel and latched her lips on hers.
There was a lapse of hesitance, despite the daring action she made, and she was almost willing to let go when Bora does the same thing and returned the profound sentiment, more fierce as if she had waited this moment for a long time.
“Does that count as classified?” Handong whispers when they parted, the distance still approximate but ample to breathe.
It was also at the moment when the sun peaks itself, white and blinding, colliding with the rain that it paints a scenery that crescents their eyes, adequate to induce a tranquilled smile. Exhilarating.
sufficient to say: loved.