don’t rush, there are things i haven’t told you yet
alone with you*laughs in unbetaed*
Watching the snowfall in Seoul feels colder, when you’re alone.
Seulgi realises this when she witnesses the first snow of the year by herself, eating ddeokbokki on crowded streets after cram class.
She’s eighteen and struggling to get her head around quadratics for the umpteenth time, when all thoughts of numbers and equations cease at the sight of white flecks falling from the eves; enrapturing everyone around her as they point fingers and murmur excitedly amongst themselves.
She had watched them take pictures then, munching quietly on her food as couples and families held their hands up to the late night sky. It was the first time she had ever felt so alone, yet so at peace in the snow. An awed wonder had filled her like every year before, except with an added sense of inertia that can only be felt when you’re a wayward teen lost in a crowd of purpose.
But this year is different. This year there’s a girl she befriended on her first day of lectures, who leaves the sanctuary of her apartment less frequently than even the most introverted person Seulgi knows. Joohyun actually allows herself to get dragged outside nowadays, so it’s Seulgi’s newest personal mission to make sure the mother hen of their odd friendship group doesn’t miss her first snow since coming back to Korea. Spending half of your school years in Canada doesn’t mean the thrill of seeing it hasn’t worn off, after all.
So here she is: nineteen now, and contemplating how weird it might seem to call someone about something like the weather. But that someone is one of her best friends here, and best friends can call each other just to tell them it’s first snow.
(…Right?)
The winter wind blows at her impatiently as she stares at the contact info on her phone, and it takes a few minutes of tapping her nails nervously against the screen before she accidentally hits ‘call’. Then there’s a flurry of panic, seven long rings, and a lip that’s bitten almost to the point of bleeding — but the line finally clicks and a breathless voice greets her before she can back out and hang up.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise I left my phone in the fridge earlier,“ Seungwan explains in a single, garbled mess, and the elder of the two blinks out at the courtyard of the library where she’s been sitting for the past fifteen minutes. “…Seul?”
She shakes her head and tries to hold back the laughter that bubbles in , but it escapes anyway. “You left your phone in the fridge?”
A huff. “I was looking for a ton of ingredients, so I put it down and — well, you know how forgetful I am, right?”
“I do,” Seulgi giggles, teeth chattering as a gust of icy–cold air forces her to tug her sleeves over her hands.
Seungwan hears her, of course. “Are you outside?”
“Yup!”
“Why?”
“First snow,” she says as casually as possible, straining her ears for a reaction.
It’s hard to tell what kind of reaction it is when there’s only a shuffle of papers and feet on a carpeted floor — plush and soft, because Seungwan can afford it — but then she hears a quiet gasp.
“Oh…”
Seulgi smiles down at her shoes, tapping them against the ground as she watches snowflakes settling on top of them.
“The forecast said it would, today” she informs her.
Seungwan breathes a brief laugh. “I should check the weather more often,” she says quieter this time, as if speaking any louder over the line will disturb the snow, somehow. “Um. Where are you?”
“The library. I was meant to be meeting Sooyoung, but she got called in for a shift at the last minute.”
That garners a teasing remark. “So you called me, instead?”
Seulgi presses her lips together into a firm line. There’s no way she can respond to that without choking on her words from the get–go. When she does manage to force out a simple, “I guess?” it comes out clumsy and faint, because that’s just how dysfunctional her brain–to–mouth filter is, apparently.
They fall silent after that, the air suddenly weighed down by something heavier than the fragile dusting of ice on Seulgi’s shoulders. The last time this happened was when they had watched a film on TV together in Seungwan’s apartment, where it was only halfway through that they realised it was very much a lesbian romcom they happened upon. Seulgi insisted she was fine with it and wanted to continue watching, and Seungwan’s hand hovered over the ‘change channel’ button for the full five minutes it took to convince her as much.
The awkwardness from those few months ago was unbearable. There was something to be said between them that wasn’t; and it’s taking a slightly different form in the lull of their conversation now. Seulgi takes to worrying her lip, feet scuffing idly on the ground.
“The news said it probably won’t settle, this year.”
“The snow?”
She curls into her coat as the wind picks up slightly. “Yeah. Am I distracting you from your work?”
The tension begins to slip away just as quickly as it came. “Ah, no. It’s fine. I just need to finish a few readings for tomorrow’s lectures.”
That draws a sigh from her as she leans forward to prop her elbows on her knees, pouting at a snowflake as she reaches out to catch it. “You’re not going to come out and enjoy the snow for a bit?”
Seungwan chuckles with the rustle of papers returning in the background. “I would, if I had someone to watch it with."
The fractal on her fingertip melts. “You could watch it with me,” forms on her tongue immediately, but her brain kicks in just in time to shut . The impulse is still there though, and she takes a breath before settling for the next best thing.
“Do you mind if we stay on the line?”
The question is innocent enough. It should be innocent enough, because it’s not an honest invitation; it’s just as brave as she can get, right now. She only hopes that it’s not overstepping her boundaries too much, when silence reigns for some seconds after. But before she can think of an excuse to hang up — maybe bury herself alive in the books indoors — there’s a single, affirmative hum in her ear.
“Okay,” Seungwan responds softly, leaving Seulgi breathless as she watches the snow falling to the sound of the smile in her voice.
And that’s how it starts.
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