ix. wallet photos

YuRi crosses her ankles. There is a persistent itch on her bottom from the skin-hugging jeans Tiffany bought her in a sale a few days ago. The lamp is illuminating some yellow haze. The fan oscillates in the damp, moist night. The summers in Korea can be stifling humid. Wind moans outside the shut windows to be granted entry. Drops of water leaks from the closed tap. YuRi sniffs loudly, flips a page and disentangles her ankles. Her cell phone remains silent on the nightstand. YuRi shoots it a glance and returns back to her magazine.

Then the door opens and a gush of wind follows after the set of footsteps dragging across the carpet. YoonA smells like the ocean. A salty ocean-like scent clung onto her clothes and her hair looks horribly dry, a supposed effect from being in saltwater. YoonA's mouth is twisted into something foul, her face wrenching, her eyes too bright. She is definitely not in the best of moods.

YuRi looks up from her magazine to greet the girl and question about her whereabouts, but the good evening dies at as YoonA doesn't even look at her when she comes in. YoonA flops the ground, spreading out her legs and slapping her sandals against the floor. Bits of sand and small rocks bounce out of the worn sandals, the brand faded and the colour dulling into something less than a grimy gold.

"Did you go to the beach?" YuRi asks, frowning minutely. Getting the sand trapped in the carpet would be difficult. She only hopes she isn't on the sweeping/vacuuming duty tomorrow.

"No."

"Oh," YuRi hears the edge in YoonA's voice. "Hey," she says instead, "I kept dinner for you. It's in the microwave so you could go heat it up."

Food always cheers YoonA up. She sighs and looks at her unnie with a sulky face. YuRi flattens her palm over the crown of YoonA's head, and pulls away at the horrid quality of those once-fine strands that now hung limply like seaweeds washed ashore.

"Ew YoonA, what did you do to kill your hair?"

YoonA's lips curl sourly. She mutters sullenly, "Only the most polluted thing ever."

"Don't tell me. Just get showered and do something about it. It's serious."

YoonA's full-fledged whining breaks out. YoonA is mature, maybe even the most mature out of the three of them, but sometimes, YoonA has her moments that makes YuRi feel like an ashamed mother overlooking her child's tantrums.

YoonA tugs at the ends of her hair, nearly crying. "I hate saltwater. I hate the beach. I hate the ocean," YoonA slumps to the ground defeatedly, YuRi is amused with the drama that comes along with ruined hair but leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Nature and humans are supposed to coexist in perfect harmony."

YoonA throws in a couple more logical reasoning before YuRi nudges her with her foot. "Go and shower before Sica gets home. She hasn't called either."

YoonA closes her eyes and blows a strand out of her face. She gets to her feet and dusts more sand latching onto her t-shirt and slams the bathroom door in frustration. YuRi chuckles, and leans back into the couch.

A little while later, YoonA emerges in pajamas, sitting next to YuRi on the couch with her preheated dinner YuRi saved for her. She glances over at the fashion magazine in YuRi's lap.

"She's pretty," YoonA comments briefly on the model.

YuRi agrees. "Yeah, she is."

"Where's Sica unnie anyway?"

"No idea. She called earlier this afternoon to tell me about some dinner plans she made with some guy. I don't know -- I think it was her colleague at work or something. She hasn't called."

YoonA hums. It isn't unusual for Jessica to be hooking up with some guy. She needs that morsel of attention from anyone to ensure her ego is properly fluffed. YuRi's thigh rubs against YoonA's, the back of her knuckles just brushing against fevered and sun-kissed skin.

Footsteps and a jingling of keys attract their attention to the door. The person behind it is panting, presumably from all the flights of stairs she had scaled, and seems to be desperate to get inside. The door opens and Jessica almost falls completely though, just hanging onto the doorknob by the tips of her fingers. She looks green.

A hand comes up to clamp over as she runs -- and YuRi and YoonA swear they have never seen Jessica run like that -- to the sink and begins to retch. Her eyes are tightly shut, little teardrops squeezed out from the corners of her eyes as constricts and releases.

YuRi dumps the magazine immediately, rushing to Jessica's side and running her hands up and down the girl's back. Jessica is trying to say something, trying to mumble something in between her retching. YoonA peeks into the kitchen while eating her noodles, similarly curious and concerned.

"It's okay -- stop talking -- just try to get it all out," YuRi soothes.

Jessica swallows and gasps a string of words, most of which YuRi can't comprehend. But she heard food poisoning, donghae and dinner, and links the three together.

"Is she okay?" YoonA inquires, taking a seat at the dinner table. "Should I call an ambulance?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Food poisoning, I think. Hey, get her a glass of water, would you?"

When Jessica has sufficiently calmed down and is leaning heavily against YuRi, spent and drained, YuRi guides her to the bed and tips a glass of water YoonA got for her into Jessica's mouth. Her sensitive stomach can't accept noodles for the night, so YoonA eats Jessica's fill and climbs into bed with Jessica, after YuRi had stripped her of her clothes and changed her into something more comfortable -- shorts and a tank top -- and presses her cheek against Jessica's bony shoulder.

Jessica is sleeping, her chest rising and falling underneath the blanket. YuRi is unclogging the sink full of vomit and washing the plates; YoonA can hear the roar of running water and the clinking of porcelain and china in the kitchen. YoonA falls asleep attaching a numeric value to Jessica's breaths.

She is jolted awake later when YuRi slides into bed too, pressing Jessica close to her and wrapping her arms wide enough around YoonA and Jessica. YoonA snuggles closer to be included in the warm circle, already feeling warm and sticky at her nape.

YoonA falls asleep to YuRi's hands moving down her back and Jessica's breaths against her neck.

~+~

"What're you saying?"

YuRi eyes the patch of skin exposed by the cocktail dress. Jessica tries on a bracelet and accesses her entire figure in the full-length mirror. YuRi sees the little hairs of Jessica's back prickle.

Jessica sighs. Her eyes dart to YuRi's reflection in the mirror. "I'm saying that you're no fun. Even YoonA is kinda wild you know. Come with me."

"YoonA became like that because of you!"

"C'mon, honey, you're only twenty-four. Stop acting like you're eighty."

"I'm not."

"Don't sulk."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are," Jessica insists gently, pulling a pair of heels from the closet and trying them on. "It's been forever since I last saw you drunk. And I loved a drunk Kwon YuRi."

YoonA's head pokes into the doorway, her hair tied up tightly in a bun so it would wave and curl out when released later. "Is this one of her days?"

Jessica clucks her tongue sympathetically at YuRi from the mirror, nodding. "Are you just gonna stay here and miss out on the fun? I promise they'll be girls and guys."

YuRi is at the losing end. She knows that fairly well. And when Jessica moves closer and has potent eyes full of night and fancy, with YoonA's probing voice in the back of her mind pushing her closer to the edge, she sighs and resigns.

"Fine," she rounds the bed to sit on the edge. "Just pick out something for me to wear."

Jessica smiles knowingly, YoonA squeals. "It'll be fun," Jessica promises. All YuRi thinks about are her shoulder blades fitted snugly underneath Jessica's skin, and the wide expanse of Jessica's that glistens even in the light of their room when Jessica digs around their closet for another tight-fitting dress.

~+~

An alarm goes off on the nightstand. Someone's foot is pressed against the side of YuRi's face. She sees badly done nail polish that is cracking and the unusual arch of the feet that could only be YoonA's. YuRi groans at the light prodding at her eyelids. There are starbursts beneath her eyelids.

feels like its full of sand. She feels like she's trapped in a different world, and oh god her head feels so heavy. YoonA snorts in her sleep, her foot twitching against YuRi's cheek. YuRi breathes loudly through her nose, trying to get rid of the morning clog. She pulls herself up and scoots to the edge, grunting when a joint cracks. She grabs the now dormant alarm clock on the nightstand and drags it to her, reading the listed numbers and feeling like crying. She wonders who had set the alarm at a stupid hour, and why she had gone drinking.

Or where. Or with whom. She doesn't really remember, but she suddenly remembers that there are three pink gums underneath a table somewhere.

"Oh cheer up sunshine," the voice is gentle for the benefit of the sleeping and the one feeling agitated. Jessica quietly and carefully steps into the room, nudging the door open with her shoulder, dressed in a long white shirt that hides her thighs, balancing a cup (since YoonA always broke the glasses) of water in one hand and two white pills in another.

"Sica?" YuRi squints until she gets closer and her laps hit the bedframe. It shakes a little and the bedsheets rustle in accordance. YuRi probably smells like a lot of things -- maybe sweet things, maybe bitter ones, maybe she smells like -- Jessica's nose wrinkles.

"You smell like you haven't showered in fifty years."

"Don't start."

The warning in YuRi's tone twists Jessica's lips into a tight-lipped smile. She holds out the medication. YuRi fumbles for them, shoving them into and gulping down the water.

"This is all your fault. I didn't want to go," YuRi wipes her lips with the back of sulkily.

Jessica rolls her eyes. "Go back to bed. I can't deal with your hangovers this early in the morning."

YuRi slowly lowers herself back to bed, grumbling all the way, but when she pulls the covers over her, she asks Jessica's retreating form: "Aren't you coming to bed?"

Jessica's fingers latch onto the side of the door, her shirt hiking up her thighs, sleeve rolling off her wrist. "No."

YuRi settles for YoonA's hugs and fitful legs coming in all directions.

—ジュリエット