After the living arrangement with the girls was settled—one that felt less like a choice and more like something decided for you—Chaeyoung brought your exhausted self to your new home, which ended, unsurprisingly, in a "lovely" night. Apparently, it was her goodbye before her temporary absence.
“You should’ve let me pack it yesterday.”
Jiheon starts scolding the moment she steps into your ransacked room. She’s not wrong. Last-minute packing turned your closet upside down this morning, and now your floor looks like a battlefield of half-folded shirts and rogue socks.
“I'm sorry, okay?” flashing her a sheepish smile hoping it would stop making her upset; well, pouting, still but you hope your smile had some effect. “It might look messy, but I’m almost done. Just a few more clothes left—and hey, now you get to choose what I wear for the whole trip. That’s a win, right?”
She rolls her eyes, circling your room like a judgmental fashion inspector. “Why would you volunteer for an extra shift the day before our trip?” she mutters, picking up a pair of jeans and holding them up to you. If she approves, she folds them and tosses them to your luggage. If she doesn’t, she hurls them at you like she’s feeding laundry to a dragon. You catch a flying shirt and quickly fold it, lips twitching as you try not to laugh.
“I just had to,” you admit. “With me gone, Gyuri doesn't get along with the rest of the staff—” you fucked up, You shouldn’t have said her name. Especially not with that tone of concern, yet you've done it—done for.
You turn with every part of your body screaming for flight, afraid to face the raging bee behind you. Lotion bottle gripped in her hand. “How about this, when we get there no rides, lets just walk around the beach till sunset.” You appease, trying not to snap the winding catapult as you approach her slowly. “Look, we can leave now. I'm done packing, with a few extra hours to spare.”
“And the sunscreen?”
“Of course! For ease of access, in this pocket it's right here… It's—its—” it's not there. Ah shit. You've accepted your going on this trip with a lotion bottle dent on your head.
But the bottle never came, instead you hear… giggling. Then laughter. You look up to find Jiheon clutching the sunscreen bottle, shaking with amusement. “Dummy,” she laughs, teasing you with it like it’s a trophy.
It was a prank. You’ve fallen for it. For her. Again.
“Come here!” you yell, lunging toward her as she squeals and scrambles away, still laughing. You chase her around the room, your luggage forgotten, your heart full.
A yelp echoes off the walls as you finally catch her, arms wrapping around her waist as the two of you tumble back—falling into the bed in a tangle of limbs and joy.
Laughter lingers like perfume in the air. Then, slowly, it fades. So do your movements.
On top of you now, her hands resting on your chest, breath warm against your neck.
That smile—so infectious even her eyes can’t help but mimic it—softens as she looks at you, the kind of look that says she’s happy just being here. With you.
You reach up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“A few extra hours to spare?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Did I hear that right?”
Her hand comes up, gently covering your eyes. She leans in closer, breath ghosting over your lips. You can feel the warmth of her skin, the nearness of her—just inches now.
Your breath hitches.
You wait.
But the kiss never comes.
It never will.
Your eyes break open. So does the breath you'd been holding back. The welcome of your palms tins into a grip you can't let go of.
Gone is the laughter that made the room bright. Gone is the warmth that made it worth staying in. Gone is the sunlight that kept it clear.
Here, only you. Left alone. A desolate room.
You want to lash out, but your body won't move—afraid that even a twitch would shatter something already broken. You want to scream, but your voice is adamant to cry out for something already wrong. You want to wake from a nightmare that has clung to you long past where dreams should end.
Yet somewhere, your name is called.
By her. By someone else.
It calls again, holding you steady in your breathless state.
"Breathe."
An eerily soothing voice—one that makes you obey before you even register the request.
A caress, in contrast to your cold sweat.
"It's just a dream."
It was.
"It's okay."
It is.
She calls for you once again. Her voice is a lullaby by nature—comforting, yet it feels less like an ask and more like a command.
Before you can see past the silhouette that cares for you, she rests her hands over your eyes and slowly closes them for you.
"Sleep."
And you did.
Willingly so.
Willingly.
…
..
.
The day starts slowly. You wake up slow. Everything is—it just feels slow. Like the world asked for a rest, and it was granted.
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