Thaw-rough the night ft Jiyeon

Jiyeon watches as the thick, heavy snowfall coats the roads and cars in a pure white. Beyond that, she can’t see much else. The snow is like a fog, limiting her vision to only a few feet ahead of her. The window she watches out of fog at the edges, creeping inwards. One arm wraps itself across her chest holding the other arm. Her hand holds a phone against her ear.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it back. We’re practically snowed in.”

“You’re better off there. Don’t try and make it back to the apartment,” she whispers half-heartedly.

“Is he there?”

As if on cue, the metallic clink of a lighter’s lid being pushed open followed by the clack when it’s swung shut, breaks the small, quiet bubble she found herself in. She hears it again. And again. And her hand grips the sleeve of her grey hoodie tightly. She turns.

You’re already looking at her.

The lighter in your hand opens. Clicks shut. Eyes still on her.

Her jaw sets before turning back to the window.

“Y—yeah…”

“Oh God. I’m so sorry. But can you do me one more favour?”

Jiyeon hums, already knowing what she was going to ask.

“Can you… tidy my room? Make sure he doesn’t find any of it?”

She exhales loudly. Enough for her roommate to hear through the phone. “Sure.”

“Oh. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can you give him the phone? I want to apologise.”

Jiyeon turns from the window, takes two steps until she’s right in front of you, sitting on the arm of the couch. She shoves the phone into your hand before settling into the couch, legs tucked beneath her.

You don’t thank her. Don’t even acknowledge her.

She watches you walk away.

You push the phone against your ear, standing and pacing around the small living room. Her eyes stay on the television, at the flashing, yellow warning sign and how the weather is only going to get worse from here. The time at the bottom reads 8:05PM. She can’t hear what’s being said, the volume too low but she can hear snippets of the conversation between you and her roommate.

“Yeah, no worries. I bought the specific condoms you wanted. Even the lube. Guess we’ll have to use it next time.”

Her eyes close for a second, exhaling loudly through her nose. When she opens her eyes again, she finds you in front of the TV, walking back and forth, blocking the view. She looks up at you, sees the small smirk on your face, and for a moment, her eyes stay on your lips before she catches herself. When she averts her eyes back to the TV, she digs her nails into her palm.

“Fuck… that’s hot. Alright, I’ll see you next week.” You hang up the phone, walking around the coffee table before dropping the phone on the seat beside her. She feels you staring, and she’s doing her best not to give you the satisfaction of her attention.

“Hey,” she turns to look up at you, face expressionless. “Wanna fuck?”

Jiyeon stares at you for a beat. And scoffs, turning back to the TV. She hears you sigh, hears you dig your hands into your pockets for your car keys.

“Worth a shot.”

As you move towards the door, she grabs the remote from the coffee table, turning up the volume.

“…with the snow falling at a record rate, authorities have officially closed all roads. To anyone watching, you are urged to stay where you are. No emergency—”

Jiyeon turns up the volume further.

The window becomes yours by default. You sit on the window sill, back pressed against the cold glass, eyes watching the scrolling text underneath the newscaster and the time slowly changing from 9:00PM to 9:01PM. You turn your head to look out the window. White is all you see.

You turn until you’re parallel with the window, your knee resting on the sill in front of you, cracking it open. With the cigarette securely placed in your mouth, you light it without fuss, inhaling before blowing smoke out the window, the cigarette pulled from your mouth and in between your fingers.

You hear a pair of shuffling feet along the floor, and as you turn towards the noise, you watch as she escapes into the hallway, hear her bedroom door shut. You close your eyes, tilting your head up as you rub the back of your neck. Of course you’re stuck here in the apartment. Of course you’re stuck with the roommate rather than the person you’re here for. You flick the embers out the window, sighing before returning the cigarette to your mouth.

Her fingers fly on the keyboard, words spewing out on the word document in front of her. The novel is coming along nicely. The characters are fully fleshed out, the story arc is complete and her lips move as she types, mouthing words she hasn’t written yet. She pushes her glasses further up her nose, and as she moves her hands to adjust the headphones settled on top of her hoodie, the sleeves slide down her forearm.

And that’s when she feels it.

The biting cold seeping through. The goosebumps forming on her arms. She involuntarily shivers, reaching beside her to grab the blanket by the foot of her bed. She wraps it around herself but it’s no use, the shivers intensify, and every inhale feels sharp, like icicles forming in her lungs.

Jiyeon pulls the sleeves over her hands before taking off her headphones, the music still playing as she places it on the monitor. She looks down at the bottom corner—9:30PM—and wonders where the time went. A sudden, whistling sound that can only come from an open window and heavy winds fills the room.

You look up as soon as the door to her bedroom swings open, wobbling as it hits the doorstop. She crosses the room without slowing down, her steps even and measured. The cigarette is gone from your mouth before you can react, sailing out the window. She pushes the window shut with both hands before turning to face you.

You’re staring at her. And she’s staring right back.

She starts saying something but you don’t listen. You’re looking at the way the grey hoodie with the chipped graphic swallows her whole, sleeves past her hands, the hem bunched around her waist. You’ve never seen her in anything besides baggy clothes, as if she’s hiding herself from everyone, her roommate included.

You wonder briefly if she’s aware she’s doing it.

Your hand finds the cigarette packet beside you, pulling one out before bringing it to your lips. She takes it before you can reach for your lighter. This time you let her.

You look back up and she’s still talking, still berating you, probably saying things you’ve heard a thousand times before. Her cheeks have turned pink, from exasperation or from the cold, you can’t be sure. You look at her furrowed brows then to her eyes and find something you weren’t expecting. You don’t look away.

“She’ll get tired of you eventually. And you’ll just find another apartment to crawl into.”

You tense.

Your eyes stay on hers, and you bite the inside of your cheek. You inhale and exhale deeply, watching her as she finally looks away, pulling the sleeve further down her arm as she stares at her feet, barely poking out of her sweatpants.

You stand, and the way she looks up at you defiantly, ready for an argument gives you pause. She sees something in your eyes. Gone before she could name it. You walk away from the window, your shoulder catching hers as you pass her.

Not enough to hurt. Just enough.

You fall onto the mattress unceremoniously, your phone high in the air in your outstretched hand. You look at the time. 10:15PM. At the corner of the screen, you watch the battery go red, watch it fall to 20% and asking if you want to go to low power mode before letting it slip through your fingers onto the bed.

You flip over and stare at the neatly made bed that wouldn’t be so neat if the reason you came here actually happened. The crisp bed sheet would be torn from the corners of the mattress, wrinkling underneath her writhing body. The pillows, stacked against the headboard, would be everywhere; under her body as you enter from behind or used to muffle her pleasure from her roommate. You sigh as you fall onto your knees by the bed, your hand gliding over the pristine duvet that would need to be cleaned if she were here.

What could’ve been?

You grab your phone, shuffling on your knees over to the bedside table where the charger is. You plug it in, wait for the charging sound before standing and taking a look at her bedroom. At the body length mirror you pinned her against that one time, at the desk filled with books and papers that you may have ruined two months ago. The bedroom is both familiar and unfamiliar to you at the same time. Every inch of the room has a memory associated with sex.

Not that you’re angry about it.