a/n: lol i'm back. basically felt the urge to write because i'm free from school, & i had just seen chaeng's glorious face in real life. *.* so in love. so broke too lol. i wanted to write a dubchaeng ff because i witnessed more of their moments than michaeng's during the concert, but then i got home & resumed watching fanvids of michaeng T.T so here's another shot from me.

i had strange fun writing this, so i was wondering if you guys are into such styles? i was contemplating on a series like this (i.e colours), so lemme know what you think?

also im on twitter now heheheh @bloodscrolls hit me up˜

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She doesn’t quite understand when her friends tell her about it: the butterflies in your stomach, the dizzying feeling of falling, the tingling sensation of warmth… She only knows the warm light that filters in through the shades of her windows, caressing her face as she awakes to a brand new day. She only knows the raw hurt that comes from falling off her bicycle as she cycles along the Han river, a scratch red against the pale skin of her knee and she only knows the butterflies drawn on her sketchbook, an array of images conjured from her imagination and boredom: a cubistic impression of the world around her, inspired by her favourite artist. Chaeyoung is white like the canvas in her sketchbook, waiting to be painted on (or waiting to paint herself).

“You’re so white like paper,” Dahyun states, but Chaeyoung doesn’t understand when her friend is clearly the one with fairer skin with “dubu” as her nickname. There is a strange stagnant sense of guilessness as she watches Sana cling to Dahyun, peppering kisses on her face and head and Dahyun trying to mask her abashment with a façade of indifference, but Chaeyoung looks down and sees Dahyun subtly playing with Sana’s fingers, almost as if telling her to not stop, but she still doesn’t understand the contradiction in the scene playing out in front of her, whatever feeling and emotion it is that entails such confusing results. Even as Dahyun’s statement plays on in her head, she finds herself more in the dark as she watches on, bewildered, and wonders quite aimlessly what it is all about.

She coincidentally, unfortunately, meets a couple in the elevator to Jeongyeon’s apartment, who can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Her face is white as sheet, a hint of red surfacing on her cheeks as she can’t help but stare on, knowing but not really knowing what is going on. She exits and recounts it to Jeongyeon who laughs it off, tells her that deep inside Chaeyoung “really likes it” but Chaeyoung’s mind is in that same flatline state as before, completely unable to understand the waves hide behind a simple act of kissing and being close to someone else. Jeongyeon ruffles her hair and tells her one day she’ll understand, and Chaeyoung hopes she does because she doesn’t like the feeling of being left out when everyone around her seems to get it, and all she sees are these supposed displays of affection that she is unable to identify with, the white in her mind a strong disinfectant to the shades of red that want to paint but are unable to.

--- 

Chaeyoung first meets her in university, while she is waiting for Dahyun to meet her after her class. She sketches mindlessly, the noises of the cafeteria a dull hum in her head. She catches a blur of white from the peripheries of her vision, a slight breeze before she turns to see a stranger trying to subtly (not really) get closer to her side, her neck cocked over slightly as if to see what Chaeyoung was sketching before. Chaeyoung gives her a blatant up-down scan. Decked in a white turtleneck, black skinny jeans and a worn out pair of black Chuck Taylor’s, Chaeyoung is surprised at the safe and clichéd but still similar style this stranger has with her. Chaeyoung is in a white cropped top, black jeans and black Supergas so this uncanny resemblance in colour coordination creeps her out a little, not to mention the stranger is still trying to get a glimpse at what Chaeyoung had drawn before.

“Sorry, can I help you?”

“I was just curious at what you’re drawing. You seemed so intense earlier on.”

Chaeyoung returns a sceptical look at her. It was just sketching after all, so she didn’t quite understand the stranger’s desire to look at it. She slowly pushes her sketchbook towards her, an eyebrow raised as the stranger eagerly takes it into her hands and flips it to the latest page and grins. Chaeyoung notices a slight silver shining from the edge of her smile and the whites of her teeth balanced out by her gummy smile. She finds her so strange, but also so adorable.

The girl whips her head back, catches Chaeyoung staring and smiles wider.

“It’s nice,” she says as she points to Chaeyoung’s drawing and Chaeyoung glances back at her. “You know what it is?” Cubistic drawings aren’t always easy to comprehend but the stranger catches on, “I don’t,” and Chaeyoung is more confused than ever.

 “I don’t understand it, but that’s why it is nice.” Chaeyoung tilts her head confusedly, and her whole life has been trying to pin something down and now a stranger comes along and tells her that abstractedness of her drawing is what makes it nice…?

“I’m Mina. What’s your name?” Chaeyoung only remembers the white in her teeth flashing again, and she tries to re-focus but the white of her turtleneck kind of blinds her and somehow Chaeyoung finds herself a little short of breath.

--- 

They take walks along the Han river, and they talk about everything under the sun. She learns that Mina likes to dance, is quite a proficient swimmer and moved over from Japan almost 2 years ago to study here. Everytime they meet she learns a little more about her, and vice versa. But Chaeyoung still imagines a thin film that stands between them (between her heart and mind, too) and she still stands amidst a hazy fog, unable to understand. Sometimes it clears, when Mina’s hand brushes against hers but sometimes when Mina’s clasps her hand over hers her vision implodes into a blinding mess of white. She doesn’t quite understand. It is white and blinding and she desperately wants to see again, yet somehow when she is blinded by that white light, somewhere in the back of her mind she hears her heart beat a little louder and hopes it is a good thing.

Mina takes her on drives during the weekends. She remembers one time in the car she was impelled to reach over Mina’s hand hovering on the gearshift but she was too afraid of the white light that threatened to blind her each time she came a little too close. They’re in a tunnel, amber lights flashing past them overhead as Mina drove them, and Chaeyoung liked to imagine they’re traveling through a time machine, with the orange overhead rushing past them and the dull white walls running past her sides. It was a fluorescent blur as Mina drove on and Chaeyoung’s palm was still slightly shivering from deciding whether to place her hand over Mina’s or not.

It had happened like this. Mina drove up a slight incline that hinted at the exit of the tunnel. She had heard Mina chuckle that small tiny laughter as the DJ made a joke on the radio, but Chaeyoung didn’t understand, hadn’t been listening since her whole body was occupied with the very difficult decision of holding Mina’s hand. Her head was caught between facing the front or turning to watch Mina’s expression had she decided to hold her hand but Chaeyoung ended up looking down, saw her chest heaving slightly and desperately wanted to understand. Her hand had become fatigued from hovering too long and unexpectedly dropped down to Mina’s, and Mina had glanced over to Chaeyoung’s shocked face as Chaeyoung looked up embarrassedly back at Mina’s, praying Mina didn’t find her as strange as Chaeyoung had found Mina to be when they first met. Chaeyoung remembers Mina looking her at her lovingly, the right side of her lips curved up slightly as Mina seemed to have understood, the naïve and innocent child who is Chaeyoung, and had hoped that Chaeyoung could understand it someday, someday soon.

Chaeyoung had hurriedly returned her head to the front and found themselves exiting the tunnel. The white light of their external surroundings had spread over the windscreen and Chaeyoung was blinded again. She remembers gripping Mina’s hand tightly as she tried to re-focus her vision but in the blinding light, like the time machine, she ended up seeing all the times spent together with Mina rush by in her head, amber lights that reminded her of sparks. Her confusion dimmed a little as she vaguely felt Mina shifting her palm slightly so that she caressed Chaeyoung’s palm in return, and Chaeyoung remembers watching the dizzying motion of soothing circles over pale skin.

More white.

White white white. 

It was blindingly white but it was also clear. Chaeyoung’s vision had re-focused and Chaeyoung finally understood.

--- 

It’s freezing cold but Chaeyoung grabs her bicycle out and cycles towards the Han river even though it will be colder there, the winds intermingled with the rough currents that threaten to send shivers down her back. She pedals hard; white mists huffed out through . She is tired when she reaches the riverbank, panting, a confusing mix of perspiration and chillness from the cold weather. Her knuckles are stark white from gripping her handles too tightly and she feels her knees are ice cold and aching. Tears stains her cheeks as she tries to catch her breath, she doesn’t understand. She is angry she is hurt but she is also confused. The whole time they were arguing she didn’t even notice her hands balled themselves into fists, stopping blood flow. It hits her when she is alone against the angry breeze and her body is numb with cold but she still hurts, her fists uncurl and red starts to seep through again. She looks at her reflection in her phone but she is white, deathly and salt-stained cheeks only make her look worse. She understands but doesn’t quite so, but she knows she feels like dying.

It’s vastly different from the scratches she has gotten from bicycle falls, feels the hurt seeping past the layers of skin, attacking her heart straight. It is a rawness that aches and cannot be easily gotten rid off and Chaeyoung feels sick. 

Gripping the ice cold handrails, she begins to hear the blood rushing in her ears as she tries to steady herself from the intense workout before, she wants to throw up and she hates this feeling so much she wants to return to the previous state of whiteness she remembers Dahyun vaguely talking about because if this white pierces through her heart then she wants to stop thinking about it all.

It doesn’t take long before she hears hurried footsteps and then a rough hand holding her, turning her body to face away from the river. A blinding white again that makes her dizzy and she turns to face Mina, and realises she has never seen Mina like this, equally panting, but also full of worry and hurt in her eyes. Her fair skin makes the teary eyes stand out and she wants to run away, she’s scared and she doesn’t want to drown in them because somewhere in the back of her head she knows if she drowns in them again, she will keep falling and never stop. She understands somehow but doesn’t know what she should do. Mina pulls her close, whispers “I’m so sorry,” and Chaeyoung sniffles, her body relaxing into her Mina’s. It’s warm, like warm milk that settles deliciously in a mug after being steamed. She just wants Mina to tuck her to sleep and hold her close. She grapples with conflicting emotions, all the messy contradictions of wanting her but not wanting hurt, and finally decides on one that night as Mina pushes her bicycle and sends her home. She looks at Mina strolling along, red blood starting to flow again inside translucent skin and thinks she doesn’t mind falling.

---

She doesn’t mind, doesn’t mind at all when white is all she sees even when she closes her eyes. It’s an electrifying kind of white that implodes, reminding her of when she first knew, first understood. She feels white shockwaves coursing through her veins as she envisions how Mina looks kissing her inside her head. Eyes closed, but feeling the rough and needy lips against her gives more than enough imagination she needs and she’s shaking from this newfound feeling.

She breaks apart from Mina suddenly, gasping softly, the behinds of her eyes flashing black then white, black, white. She opens her eyes to a blushing Mina who is trying to catch her breath, “sorry, I think I got a little carried away,” but Chaeyoung wants to tell her it’s fine, but can’t find the spaces between each breath to say it, and decides the best way to do so is to rub her thumb affectionately against Mina’s bottom lip, slowly. She watches the way her redness eases out into white when her thumb presses slightly along an area, before returning to its cherry redness. Mina’s lips are moist, and a little swollen but it makes the insides of Chaeyoung’s churn in a good way, so Chaeyoung leans in again and takes away her breath once more. 

The innocent white canvas in her mind is painted with the deep red love of Mina, but Chaeyoung likes to think there’s still that whiteness in her: a renewed, re-envisioned kind of whiteness that reminds her of the warmth under clean sheets as she lies beside Mina. It is a whiteness that has transfigured, transfigures her into understanding, no longer caught inside a hazy mist but a whiteness that can be experienced when one walks out into a clearing, like one driving out of a tunnel into the white light.

She kisses Mina, lets Mina pull her down into the sheets and falls asleep in her embrace, dreaming of gowns and bells and bright light filtering through stained glass windows.