Secret in a Winter Wonderland - Part Two

So this is something. 

Never in your infinite cynicism and introversion did you think you’d end up at a party of all places. 

Well, you’re not actually at the party yet—you’re hesitating at the front door. Listening to the muffled thump of pop music you’ve never heard, the screaming of way to many fucking people in a single enclosed space—the not-so-subtle way your heartbeat is drowning all of it out.

Normally, you’d just leave. Turn heel, grab takeout, and spend the night exactly as God intended: sprawled out on your couch with Youtube or a movie and minimal human interaction.

But this isn’t “normally.” This is Minjeong’s party, or rather, her friends’ party, (she didn’t seem all that keen on hosting when you were cuddling in the snow.) Alas, she asked you to go, and bailing is effectively equivalent to committing a war crime on your developing relationship.

So yeah, no choice but to walk straight into hell.

Your hand finds the doorknob. 

Come the fuck on, you tell yourself. It’s just a party: Just a few hours of pretending to be a functioning social creature before you can slip out and—

The door swings open.

Ningning’s standing there. A half-empty glass of red wine sloshes in her hand, eyes and smile housing something deeply, profoundly dangerous. She doesn’t say “hi” or “welcome” like a good host would—doesn't even gesture for you to enter. Instead, with a perfectly executed smirk, she turns her head slightly and, without breaking eye contact, announces to the entire party:

“MINJEONG, YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HERE!”

You black out for a second.

Not literally, but rather in the sense that your mind completely dissociates from the material world. Your physical body must still be standing there, existing on tangible matter, because you hear the way the entire party stops. Music is still playing, but conversations stutter, drinks pause halfway to lips, heads turn, one by one, like a scene out of a horror movie, except you’re the unfortunate soul standing in the doorway—the monster everyone is staring at.

You look behind you when you finally regain autonomy. No windows to jump out of.

Fantastic.

You’re left with no choice but to step inside, (running for the elevator would be infinitely more embarrassing), hesitantly, like you’re navigating a minefield, but step in nonetheless. 

Dozens of eyes follow your every move, silently assessing, silently judging. Your mind is working overtime, trying to figure out how to recover from this, but the only thing it manages to come up with is: Welp. Time to fake my own death and move two continents away.

But then you see her.

And all concerns blissfully fade away.

Minjeong is standing in the kitchen, her hand frozen mid-sip for a drink. Her expression is, to say the least, shocked, but quickly shifts to signal what you can only assume is an impending murder attempt on Ning Ning.

 But that’s not what stops you in your tracks.

It’s her dress.

The dress is azure blue, made from this gorgeous flowing fabric with the texture of a plush blanket. It’s nice, sure, but something about how she looks in it could make you go rabid. The way it makes her adorable blonde bob cut stand out, the way she looks so blissfully innocent, the way it leaves her shoulders and collarbone exposed. 

You've seen Minjeong in so many different ways: messy-haired and comfortable over video, adorably bundled in coats and scarves. Lying beside you, radiant in the moonlight—but this? It's a word you’d never thought of to describe her.

Kim Minjeong is hot.

And paradoxically adorable too…?

Your brain, unable to compute her beauty, promptly shuts-down.

Minjeong recovers from the initial shock, snapping her head toward Ningning with a glare so sharp it could shatter her glass. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hisses, almost shattering her own drink as she sets it down.

Ningning, who just lives for chaos apparently, simply grins. “What? I’m greeting your—”

“Finish that sentence and die.”

You would laugh if you were capable of basic motor functions right now. Unfortunately, you are not, because Minjeong is walking towards you, and you’re barely a quarter into your system reboot.

You expect a casual greeting—one that directly contradicts Ningning’s prior announcement. But instead, she hugs you—in front of everyone. It’s not some casual, one-armed, friendly pat-on-the-back kind of hug either. No, this is one of those hugs. Arms wrapped around your middle, her cheek pressing against your chest, the warmth of her entire body invading yours.

Your brain, already critically damaged from The Dress, promptly BSODs.

And somewhere in the distance, you hear the collective oohs and aahs of an audience who does not need to be here for this. Minjeong, however, is completely unfazed. She pulls back just enough to look up at you, gaze tender, voice mild.

“You made it,” she says simply.  

Before you can even think of a response (you’re not even capable of speaking, anyway), Karina’s voice interrupts. “Okay, but if you’re gonna greet him like that, Ningning wasn’t technically wrong.”

A ripple of laughter spreads through the room.

You snap out of your daze just in time to see Minjeong shoot Karina a deadly glare. “You guys are the worst,” she scowls, taking a step back from you, arms falling to her sides—but not before her fingers briefly graze your wrist. “Come with me,” she murmurs to you, tilting her head toward the hallway. 

You hesitate, glancing around the party which is thankfully beginning to restart. Karina is busy playing host, Giselle is mid-conversation watching with a knowing smirk, and Ningning—wherever she is—is undoubtedly basking in the chaos she created.

As good a time as any to get the fuck out.

Minjeong doesn’t say anything else—just takes your hand  and pulls you through the crowd. A few people glance your way, but no one stops you, and soon, you’re slipping past the kitchen, down a dimly lit hallway, until finally you’re able to take refuge in a room.

You don’t realize where she’s led you until the door clicks shut behind you—and then it’s just the two of you, standing in the soft glow of a warm lamp, surrounded by pastel colours, books stacked sideways, and an egregiously large family of stuffed animals on the bed.

Holy fuck.

Minjeong’s room.

“Sorry about that,” she says with a sigh, leaning her forehead against the door. “Ningning is Ningning, but when she gets alcohol into her?” Minejong turns towards you. “ She’s like… Ningningning.”

“Holy shit,” you laugh. “That was awful.”

Minjeong laughs back. “I’ll be here all night,” she says, finger guns being shot your way.

…And immediately regrets said finger guns.

“Oh my god,” she groans, slapping both hands over her face. “What am I doingggggg.”

“Don’t worry,” you grin. “I only judged you a little.”