Jeon Soyeon knows she’s ugly.

She muses as she stares at her shabby reflection. There isn’t a particular defect she wants to get rid of, her features just don’t get along with eachother: her nose is too pointy for her too big mouth and her smile is too teethy for her too plump lips. When her parents’ friends come over for dinner, they get at loss for words for a few seconds before complimenting her like social etiquette deems appropriate. Though both her mother and father aren’t bad looking, she thinks she was born weird, puberty made her grow up a mess and nail adulthood as an eyesore. She never takes long while fixing her looks - hair brushing, face washing and clothes choosing - because she supposes if she can’t exchange faces with Minkyung from Law school or Jieqiong from Architecture she supposes it’s not worth trying.

With that being told, it doesn’t mean she isn’t confident. She resents her looks most of the time, any normal human being would, only because it makes her goal harder to reach. Out of the five senses, performing is more inclined to sight than hearing. She loves dancing and has no problems with exercising, so at least she won’t look much like a clumsy dwarf on stage but that’s not why she’s so sure of herself.

Soyeon also knows she’s talented and that’s what counts to her because she can get plastic surgery but being naturally born with skill saves a lot of work. With a whole bunch of guys out there trying to make it with lackluster rapping and lyrics, she’s relieved she at least has it down. She can execute things perfectly, she brings personality to her stages and she has been writing since middle school (it’s the one thing she can’t see her life without). She shows the most truthful side of herself at the stage and dearly hopes that makes up for her awful, awful face. It still doesn’t make her anxiety disappear, though.

She checks out what she’s wearing: a cap, a white hoodie three times bigger than her, light makeup (a pimple grew up on her left cheek yesterday morning so she tried to cover it up) and worn out jeans. Fancy outfits are also meaningless, so she throws dress to impress over the window and finds comfortable clothes. She nods as if reassuring her reflection you don’t need this, just go there and do what you do the best. Before she could walk out of the room, she feels hands on her waist and the scent of peach almost chokes her, however, it’s so familiar she doesn’t move an inch.

“We’re ready to go,” Yebin mutters against the nape of her neck “I worked hard to get Haein unnie to give us a ride to the contest, you better hurry.”

Soyeon has her automatic smitten grin on and it looks tragic so she stares at her sneakers instead of the mirror. “I was doing some, uh, visual checking.”

“I’ll do your visual checking,” Yebin rests her chin on the smaller’s shoulders, which must be uncomfortable because their height difference is pretty alarming but if she’s bothered, she shows no signs of it “Turn around.”

“Alright,” Soyeon croaks out, though not knowing how ridiculously lovestruck she must look makes her slightly anxious.

Yebin smirks and there’s that merciless glint on her eyes - it’s like you’re being seen for the first time in your life, like she’s legitimately taking in every detail of you. Or it may be just Soyeon, whatever, but her stomach won’t stop churming so she guesses God wouldn’t be so cruel to save this feeling to her only. “You look beautiful, truly,” the taller girl runs her fingers through the heavy fabric of Soyeon’s clothes “I know you won’t believe me though.”

“I don’t, but it still feels nice,” she replies, biting down the giggle that threatens escaping through . It’d be too pathetic.

“Glad to hear that. What about me?” Yebin asks, hands on her waist.

Soyeon tilts her head to the right, feigning confusion. “What about you?”

“My looks, jerk, you’re not a solo act yet,” Yebin gestures to her own face to emphazise her point “How do I look?”

Soyeon shrugs because she refuses to be the one who has to tell the taller girl how stunning she looks, no matter what she dresses or the amount of makeup she puts on. She’s pretty with sharp eyeliner and face contouring, she’s pretty with her short hair tousled and eyes bloated from short naps (she can’t keep quiet for too long even if her life is at stake), she’s pretty with dark red lipstick, smudged or not. She’s pretty with her shiny sneakers, brown hoodie and dark jeans.

She’s pretty (to the point talking is distracting) and kind (to the point it’s unhealthy, conflict avoiding and heart aching) and open (even her laughing involves hugging and slapping and forms of physical contact with anything) and all Soyeon didn’t think she’d be able to reach.

“You look okay,” she says, hoping it’s enough.

Yebin scoffs indignantly. “So much for being romantic,” she scoots closer to the smaller, interwining their fingers because according to her it’s the only true way to hold hands “Let’s go.”

(Soyeon knows she’s ugly, but dating the prettiest girl in the world might give her some extra credit.)

(After they win the contest, they treat Haein to spicy noodles and they’re acting so giddy and cheerful she says they look like newlyweds. Soyeon feels elated for the rest of the night.)

a/n: well i told you it but at least i tried
- if u liked it then pls gimme kudos or a comment to ease my anxiety since i haven't posted anything in a while <3
- if u didn't like it pls tell me why so i can improve next time
- if u found any grammar mistakes pls warn me as well bc english isn't my first language & i'm a typo queen

thanks for reading nevertheless, folks!!!