jisoos-princess@tumblr: I wanna read some wonshua and seoksoo ~ will that be alright? ;; with hanahaki au please~ thank you! :)

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Different people have different ideas of a good Friday night.

For Wonwoo, it’s being nestled on the couch with Jisoo in her lap and two cups of cooling hot chocolate on the side table. She’s got one hand scrolling through Instagram and the other tangled in Jisoo’s glossy black hair, which smells like the tangerine shampoo in Wonwoo’s bathroom.

Jisoo’s drifting off to sleep, head on Wonwoo’s chest and accounting homework in a forgotten mess on the floor. Wonwoo’s head is fuzzy with sleep and contentment, and the thought of tangerines and Jisoo loops over and over in place of the sheep she’s trying to count.

A phone buzzes, the sound thick against the wooden table. Jisoo stirs.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you hand me my phone?”

Wonwoo reaches out blindly behind her, feeling around on the side table. It’s impossible to find- at least, Wonwoo’s too lazy to turn her head and look.

“Your texts can wait, right?”

“Not tonight.” Jisoo shifts on Wonwoo’s lap, though she doesn’t get up. “Seokmin’s going on his date with Yuna and I want to know how it goes.”

“Oh. Cute.”

“Yeah. She’s super sweet, so I have high hopes for her.”

“Cute, cute. But that doesn’t justify you needing your phone.”

“Yes, it does. Jeon Wonwoo, I will literally get up if I have to.”

Wonwoo sneaks her arms around Jisoo’s waist, pulling Jisoo to her chest. “No, you won’t.”

The fight seeps out of Jisoo’s body as she melts into Wonwoo. “You’re right.”

In this position, Wonwoo can feel Jisoo’s heartbeat, the steady ba-dum ba-dum not quite in time with her own. It’s soft- everything about Jisoo is soft- but it’s comforting. Wonwoo slides one hand down from Jisoo’s waist to one of her hands, and laces their fingers together.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yes?”

The familiar sound of keys jiggling in the door makes them both flinch, jumping apart even though they don’t really have to. Jisoo yanks her hand away and clutches it to her chest, leaving empty spaces between Wonwoo’s fingers.

“Hey!” Jeonghan shouts, loudly, and it cuts through what’s left of the soft and drowsy atmosphere. “What’s up?”

“What the hell,” Wonwoo mutters under her breath, sullenly kicking at the couch with her heels. “Why are you here?”

“Oh.” Jeonghan looks between the two of them, noticing- undoubtedly- the messy hair and wrinkled clothes, and the way Jisoo’s biting her nails. “Did I interrupt something?”

“What the hell do you want, Yoon?”

“Oh, that.” Jeonghan’s gaze is searching, but Wonwoo has learned to never meet her eyes. “I’m hungry.”

 

 

It really is a sight to see- Hong Jisoo, pretty little Hong Jisoo sitting in the parking lot of a Taco Bell, snuggled up under a leather-clad Wonwoo’s arm as Jeonghan chain smokes and stubs out her cigarettes into an empty taco shell. Wonwoo really should take a picture.

“I have to get back by nine,” Jisoo whispers, and it sends tingly sensations down Wonwoo’s spine. “It’s eight thirty.”

“Chill out, Hong.” Jeonghan turns to blow the smoke away from the two of them- which is a noticeable improvement from when they first met her. Wonwoo would feel touched, but the tension in the air makes it difficult. “Just call her and tell her you’re coming back late.”

Jisoo is unimpressed. “That’s nice in theory, Jeonghan, but I value my life.”

“Not my problem.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo says before Jisoo can say anything, “isn’t your mom working late tonight? You don’t have to be home for another hour, right?”

“I guess.” Jisoo looks at Wonwoo, a little resentful that she seems to have taken Jeonghan’s side. With an apologetic half-smile, Wonwoo pulls her closer, feeling Jisoo shiver slightly under her touch.

“Are you cold?”

“It’s fine.”

“I told you not to wear that stupid skirt,” Jeonghan scoffs. “But you just had to look pretty, right?”

“It’s my school uniform,” Jisoo snaps back, hand tensing on Wonwoo’s knee.

“It’s nice to see you’re just as uptight outside of the classroom.”

Jisoo eyes Jeonghan resentfully, and Wonwoo shifts to cover her so that Jeonghan won’t punch her lights out.

“There’s more food in the bag,” Jeonghan says after a while. She tosses her two unlit cigarettes at a nearby trash can, and Wonwoo watches as they bounce off the rim and roll off the sidewalk. “I’ve got no appetite, so go ahead.”

Wonwoo unrolls a cold chicken wrap and half-heartedly bites into it. A droplet of honey mustard rolls down her chin, and Jisoo wipes it off with a finger, giggling.

“You want some?”

“Sure.”

Wonwoo hands her the wrap, and watches as Jisoo takes a bite from the same place, delicately placing light pink lips where hers had been just moments before. Warmth rushes to Wonwoo’s cheeks and she coughs slightly, hoping that Jisoo won’t notice.

“Is it good?”

Jisoo nods, and Wonwoo tries to ignore the giddiness in her chest as she watches her eat. It should be impossible for her heart to feel this warm when the air is this chilly.

“Here you go.” Jisoo hands back the wrap, and Wonwoo stares for a good few moments at the light pink tinge of Jisoo’s lip gloss on the edge. She should feel disgusted. Instead, a dizzying thrill runs from the base of her spine to shoot blurry thoughts into her head.

“What? You don’t want an indirect kiss?” Jisoo’s voice is light and playful, a clear contrast to the adrenaline buzzing in her ears.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you rather have a direct kiss?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Wonwoo says. Her tongue feels heavy, and maybe it’s just her but the gap between them is narrowing by the second.

“Do you think I’d give you one?” No, Jisoo’s lips are definitely closer than they were moments ago. Wonwoo stares at them, transfixed, before flicking her eyes up to meet Jisoo’s.

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“God, you guys make me want to vomit more than I ever have,” Jeonghan says, and the atmosphere’s gone, along with the hum of energy in Wonwoo’s ears. “And I just ate Taco Bell.”

“Screw off, Jeonghan,” Wonwoo mutters before sinking her teeth into the wrap, irritated.

“Hey, I came here to get food in my stomach, not get it out.”

Wonwoo looks over again- Jisoo’s lips are pursed in annoyance now, but they soon soften into that familiar smile as Jisoo catches Wonwoo’s eyes.

“What are you looking at, stupid?”

“You,” Wonwoo answers.

 

 

When Wonwoo was sixteen, she went to visit her grandmother in northern China. Days turned into weeks turned into months, and before she knew it she’d spent an entire summer scribbling in her notebook and staring at the peach trees in her grandmother’s backyard.

She still doesn’t know why people make such a big fuss over cherry blossom trees when peach blossoms are twice as gorgeous.

The one on her pillow reminds her of Jisoo. Delicate. Pure. Sweet, and soft, and startlingly feminine. Wonwoo swears that the same shade of pink is splashed across Jisoo’s cheekbones and lips.

She contemplates whether she sees Jisoo differently; if Jisoo knows. No, she probably doesn’t.

It dawns on Wonwoo, after a few hours just sitting in bed, that Jisoo’s probably straight. Just another straight girl that likes to lead queer girls on. Wonwoo’s met plenty in her lifetime.

Dying over yet another straight girl would be laughable- if it wasn’t Jisoo. Somehow, the thought that Jisoo’s the one who’s hurting her just makes everything hurt a hundred times more.

 

 

“How did Seokmin’s date go?”

“That’s the first thing you ask me?” Jisoo’s smile is sweet and teasing, but her voice is unusually sharp. “No ‘how was your morning’ or even ‘do you have food’? That’s a bit unlike you.”

“I just want to know.” Wonwoo shrugs. “After all, Seokmin is incredibly awkward around girls, and I’m happy to laugh at whatever terrible thing happened.”

“The date was-” Jisoo pauses- “fine. He had a good time. It was great.”

“Oh. That’s surprising. Well, good for him. Do you have details?”

“Why do you care?”

“Chill.” Wonwoo raises her hands defensively. “Dude’s just had a bad track record with girls. It’s good to see him finally getting somewhere.”

“I mean, she actually likes his jokes, so that’s good. And she’s apparently just the biggest ray of sunshine. Smiles all the time.”

“She sounds perfect for him. You’d think they were designed for each other.”

“Yeah. Let’s talk about it later, okay?”

“Okay.” Wonwoo tosses her jacket on the back of a chair and makes herself comfortable at the kitchen table. “What’s for breakfast?”

“My mom left scrambled eggs in the pan. Help yourself.”

“Great. Thanks.”

It’s only when Wonwoo sits back down with a plateful of cold breakfast that she notices Jisoo still standing at the doorway, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“You’re not eating?”

“I… I have to get my phone. I left it upstairs.” With that, Jisoo’s gone, and Wonwoo reaches over to the drawers to grab a fork.

Jisoo’s phone is sitting on the counter, five inches away from her hand.

“Hey! Jisoo! Your phone is-” Wonwoo groans, realizing she’s going to have to get up and chase after her. “C’mon, really? Jisoo!”

 

 

She doesn’t expect to find Jisoo on the backyard patio, sitting against the bricks of the wall.

“Hey, Jisoo, your phone’s in the kitchen. Oh- oh. .”

Jisoo’s nearly unrecognizable, white petals sticking to the tear tracks on her face and the saliva on her chin. A dark stripe of watery mascara clings to three petals on her cheeks. She’s a mess, a beautiful mess and all Wonwoo can do is stare.

It’s a matter of seconds before Wonwoo doubles over, wheezing as pink petals fight their way out of her lungs and into Jisoo’s lap.

“. Sorry.”

“What a mess,” Jisoo rasps. “Make yourself comfortable. My mom will freak if we make a mess in her house.”

Wonwoo clears a space on the patio, brushing creamy white daisies into pale pink blossoms and sitting awkwardly down beside Jisoo.

“There you go.” Jisoo brushes flowers off her lap. “Isn’t this comfortable?”

“Sure. So who is it?”

“Seokmin.” Jisoo rests her head against the wall. “And you?”

Wonwoo thinks about it for a moment. “It’s you.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

There’s something so wrong about this situation; so intimate about these flowers. It’s a public declaration of their love. It feels like she’s confessing to someone who’s confessing to someone else.

“That’s- huh.”

“Yeah.”

The wind brushes through her hair, blowing more flowers off the patio and into the dew-painted grass. It’s strangely peaceful out here.

“Wonwoo?”

“What.”

“Do you think they’ll give us hospital beds beside each other?”

Wonwoo’s surprised for a moment- because what the - but she throws her head back against the wall anyways, a choked laugh escaping her wrecked throat.

 

 

“You look like roadkill.”

“Gee, thanks.” Wonwoo kicks at Jeonghan’s ankles, grinning as the other girl yelps and hops out of her way.

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you. Calm down.”

“I know, I know.”

“Brat.”

Wonwoo opens for a comeback and finds herself unable to speak. She makes a noise in the back of , and Jeonghan turns around to stare at her.

“What’s wrong with you?”

She’s clawing at her chest, fingers pressing into her neck but it’s not helping- she can’t breathe. Jeonghan’s grabbing her shoulder, but Wonwoo pushes her away, getting ready to heave up-

-nothing.

The sensation is gone as soon as it came, but the panic’s still there. Gasping for air, Wonwoo shakes her head to clear it of the fuzziness.

“, Jeon, are you okay?” Jeonghan’s hands are on her shoulders again, and Wonwoo shudders, shoving her off.

“Just- just leave me alone for a bit-”

“Dude, that was intense. You should go get checked out.”

“I’m fine.” Wonwoo spits bile onto the sidewalk and drags the rough denim of her sleeve across . “Really.” Her chest is aching and her mind is racing, thinking about any and all of the reasons that there are no petals in her hands, or on Jeonghan’s shoes. She almost wishes there were.

“Let’s just go to the hospital. I don’t want you to die while you’re with me.”

 

 

It’s cold in the hospital parking lot, but Jeonghan’s jacket is warm on her shoulders. Wonwoo doesn’t really think she needs to go to the hospital, but Jeonghan’s hard to dissuade.

“Dude, is that the Choi kid? Yuna?”

“What?” Wonwoo peeks over her shoulder, and sure enough, Seokmin and Yuna are walking mere feet behind them.

And then it clicks.

Wonwoo whirls around and locks eyes with Seokmin’s bloodshot ones.

“Where is she?”

 

 

Jisoo’s hair, usually painstakingly combed and straightened, is matted and messy across the white hospital pillows. Her lips and cheeks aren’t flushed pink- they’re a pale purplish white and Jisoo just looks so tired.

“You’re okay,” Wonwoo croaks, knees giving way.

Jisoo smiles, touching cold fingers to Wonwoo’s cheek. “I’m okay.”

“What happened?”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“I kind of have to when you’re in a hospital bed.”

“This was bound to happen sometime.” Jisoo shrugs and Wonwoo wants to kill her for being this casual about it. “It’s okay. Really. They gave me the surgery.”

“Really?” Wonwoo wants to stop her voice from trembling, but it’s so hard.

“Really. I’m going to be fine.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?”

Jisoo leans up and kisses Wonwoo- it’s nothing more than a quick brush of lips, and Jisoo’s lips are chapped and cold, but Wonwoo feels electricity jolt through her anyways.

“What was that for?”

“Shush. You worry too much.”

Seokmin’s standing at the doorway and biting his nails, and Jisoo’s mom is staring at her with hostility in her eyes, and Wonwoo can feel the heavy sludge of petals and bile surge up again in her chest but she numbs herself to all of it. No matter what happens five seconds from now, five days, five months, five years, five eternities-

-it’s just her and Jisoo in this moment.