Step two: Make her feel special

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Sooyoung loves karaoke night.  When she’s with her best friends in the whole world, nothing beats a drunken karaoke night on Saturday evenings.  No obligations the next day means they can drink until they’re purple, sing until their throats are sore, stay up until the sun breaks over the horizons.  It’s the kind of reckless indulgence that she was denied as a teenager, and as a university student now she refuses to let her freedoms go to waste.  That’s just what happens when people are deprived of certain pleasures in life: they crave them more.

And if there’s one thing Sooyoung can’t get enough of, it’s cuddling up with one Son Seungwan.

Maybe that’s what emboldens her to slip her arms around Seungwan’s waist, tugging her in so that their bodies fit snugly together in the booth seat.  That, and the shot of soju she’d just downed a few minutes ago.  The pleasant buzz of alcohol thrumming through her veins makes her feel a little more forward than usual.  More brazen.  It stifles that nagging voice of reason in her head that says it’s probably not a good idea to glue herself to her best friend when they’re both tipsy.  When she’s feeling more recklessly affectionate and Seungwan is more receptive to it.

“Hey, clingy girl,” Seungwan greets, sending her a lopsided smile that makes Sooyoung’s stomach do flips.  Her breath smells like the piña colada she’s been sipping at for the past half hour.  Sweet and tangy.

“Hi,” Sooyoung says, feeling giddy that Seungwan actually leans back into the hug, rather than shirking her off.  She adjusts her grip around Seungwan’s midriff, peeking over to watch as she scrolls through the song list.

Thankfully, Seungwan doesn’t protest to the clinginess like she normally does.  Doesn’t even shoot her that bemused look she always gives whenever Sooyoung gets all up in her personal bubble.  It’s been a long journey to get to this point.  In the beginning of their friendship, Seungwan would have squirmed away from any sort of touch—even something as innocuous as linking arms—but years of chipping away at her reserved shell has earned Sooyoung the privilege of embracing her close.  Sooyoung celebrates the small victory by nuzzling into her, simply savoring the cozy warmth between them.

In truth, it’s a rarity that Sooyoung gets to indulge in physical affection like this with her: hands clasped around the bare flat of Seungwan’s stomach, tucked in the space below her crop top sweater; chin propped on her shoulder; their sides pressed flush against another.  Seungwan is usually so sheepish about skinship that being with her now feels like a treat.  Like getting to hold a skittish cat that’s finally relaxed enough to be pampered.

On the opposite end of the seat, a red-faced Seulgi is halfway passed out, her mic threatening to slip from her loose grip onto the floor.  Next to her, Yerim is already knocked out cold, head slumped onto the side arm of the couch.  Joohyun, being the only rich working woman out of all of them, has already clocked out for the night (but not without paying their tab), citing something about being older and needing to sleep earlier and ‘I’m not the spritely youth that you are anymore, Sooyoung-ah.’

While it’s a shame that their other friends are checked out—physically or mentally otherwise—a selfish part of Sooyoung delights in the fact that she and Seungwan are effectively alone together now.  There’s something about the absence of other conscious people in the room that makes the space feel a little more intimate.  Like they’re in their own little world, basking in the dim neon lighting of the private karaoke booth and the dull bass synths drumming from the television speakers.

“Ohh,” Sooyoung pipes up, pointing at a selection on the screen.  “You should do this one!”

Seungwan squints, regarding her with a dubious look.  “You want me to Ring Ding Dong it at this time of night?  Seriously?”

“No—the one below it!” Sooyoung clarifies, nudging her.  It’s Zion T’s Snow, a melancholic winter song with mellow piano and soulful string instrumentals.  A nice post-midnight tune—perfect for when everyone else is sleeping.  Calm, soothing.  “I really like when you sing ballads.”

Seungwan hums in consideration, tilting her head.  “I’m going to have to pitch up a whole octave.  You really want me to sing this?  When I’m kind of drunk and might sing off key?”

“Yeah, why not?  It all sounds good when it’s you.”

Seungwan snorts.  “I don’t know about that.  My voice might crack.”

Even through her nervous laugh, Sooyoung can hear the frown in her inflection without even looking at her.  Feels her shoulders tense in that way whenever she second guesses herself. 

“I love your voice cracks, too,” Sooyoung says without missing a beat.  It makes her bristle a bit—the fact that Seungwan can talk down on herself so easily.  Sooyoung tightens her hold around her, as though she can squeeze out all her insecurities.  Tries to mend over that chink in her confidence before Seungwan can spiral into negativity, as she tends to do.

It probably works, because then Seungwan chuckles lightly and loosens up.  “If you say so,” she relents, albeit not without a fond eye roll.  She taps play on the song, and the lilt of the violins and the jingles of piano fill the room.

When Seungwan’s smooth voice cuts into the air, Sooyoung presses in closer—close enough that she can feel the reverberations of her vocal cords buzzing through her body.  This is Sooyoung’s favorite part of karaoke night: just being near Seungwan when she sings, getting blessed by her heavenly vocals.  It’s even better now that she’s the only audience member.  In moments like these, she can pretend that Seungwan is singing just for her.  Every single line of those romantic lyrics.

“I wish white snow would be outside tomorrow morning
Then I’ll make you a warm cup of tea
Just keep staying by my side
Promise me.”

At the instrumental interlude, Sooyoung lets out a contented sigh, letting the music lull her to a relaxed, boneless state.  She can tell she’s getting to the point where the alcohol is just making her more sleepy than anything, dulling her senses: the music in her ears becoming more and more muddled, the disco lights in her vision blurring into a backdrop of neon bokeh.  Just as she’s about to close her eyes, though, Seungwan breaks out of her hold, scooting away.

At the absence of Seungwan’s presence, Sooyoung stumbles and nearly falls over onto the seat.  She catches herself just on time before she faceplants onto the sofa.  “Hey, what gives!” she yelps, sitting upright.  “I was getting comfy!”

Seungwan snickers.  “You do know this is supposed to be a duet, right?” she says, passing her another mic.  It’s a gaudy looking thing: a hefty stainless-steel object dyed in metallic gold, bedecked in plastic toy jewelry that’s lost all of its sparkle and gone foggy, all chafed at the base where possibly thousands of grimy hands have worn it out.  “It’s your turn.”

Begrudgingly accepting the mic, Sooyoung grumbles.  For all her kindness, Seungwan is surprisingly demanding at times.  Maybe that’s the problem with having a crush on her: Sooyoung is so starstruck sometimes that she forgets Seungwan has a playful streak to her.  One that isn’t afraid to rile her up once in a while.

Her annoyance is short-lived, however, when she catches sight of the soft smile gracing Seungwan’s face—the one that shines bright as ever, without the hint of mischief that she was expecting.  Just the innocent desire of someone who wants a partner to sing with.  Wanting Sooyoung to sing with her.

Sooyoung’s heart melts instantly.  Resistance crumbling, she brings the mic to without further question, and the way Seungwan’s face lights up makes all the trouble worth it.  God, she’s incredibly whipped (but she also doesn’t mind that too much).

Looking directly into Seungwan’s eyes, she opens and sings.

“Don’t rush, there are things I haven’t told you yet
After we fall asleep, today will become yesterday
Just keep staying by my side
You promised.”

Throughout the song, they trade lyrics back and forth, weaving their lines seamlessly together.  To Sooyoung’s surprise, Seungwan joins in effortlessly with the lower harmony, their voices blending like honey and tea.  Her astonishment must have shown on her face, because Seungwan just gives her a smug grin—that stupidly charming lopsided grin like she knows she’s pulling off something cool and that she’s so proud of herself for it.  Sooyoung rolls her eyes, even as fondness swells in her chest.  What a showoff.

Seungwan being a showoff isn’t a problem, though.  The problem is the way that Seungwan looks when she’s singing—the way she always immerses herself in the lyrics, becoming one with the writer behind them, looking all the more like a girl in love.  She’s always said that she doesn’t understand love, that she’s never experienced any sort of romance.  But watching her now makes Sooyoung question otherwise.  The tender expression on her face, the gentleness behind her eyes.

The problem is that look.  The look that she’s directing at Sooyoung now.

It’s almost painful, knowing that it’s not real.  But it’s not a crime to pretend, just for a little bit, right?

Thankfully, the music fades out just in time before Sooyoung can get too caught up in her emotions.  (Delusions, rather.  But she takes what she can get.)

“Thanks for singing with me, Sooyoung-ah,” Seungwan says softly.

Sooyoung huffs, slapping the mic on the table.  She shuffles back into Seungwan’s space, plopping her head onto her lap.  “Can I finally rest now?”

Seungwan laughs, patting her head.  “Yeah.  I’ll sing one more song for you, then?”

“You better.”

The track that Seungwan chooses isn’t one that Sooyoung recognizes.  The piano backtrack is pleasant, though.  Romantic.  It’s funny—for someone who claims not to know anything about love, these kinds of songs are Seungwan’s strong suit.

When Seungwan starts to sing in English, Sooyoung closes her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the melody of her voice.

“Don’t think that I’m not interested
I'm just playing hard to get
So much about this crazy game they call love
That I’m trying to understand
So could you be my best friend
Before you call yourself my man
Why can’t I love you in slow motion, take my time?”

The song is nice, but it’s made even more beautiful by Seungwan’s vocals.  She sounds even more expressive than usual.  Like there’s more yearning in her singing.  Has she been practicing?

It’s too bad that she can only understand one out of every five words in the lyrics, though.  Even more of a shame that she can barely keep herself awake by the time the song ends.

“That was really good,” Sooyoung manages to croak out.  “You’re such a good singer, unnie.  So, very, good.  Amazing!  Like, really—”

“Yes, yes.”  She laughs, hushing her.  “Goodnight, Sooyoungie,” Seungwan whispers, brushing the hair out of Sooyoung’s face.

“Goodnight,” she mumbles back.  “I love you, unnie.”

“Love you, too.  And… thank you.”

Even on the brink of sleep, Sooyoung doesn’t miss the kiss on the crown of her head.

The two songs I used in the fic are ones that Wendy sang in her 191222 instagram live!
Snow by Zion T ft. Lee Moon Sae
Slow Motion by Karina Pasian

If you guys want to see where Wendy sings them, here are the timestamps respectively:
Snow
Slow Motion

And of course: Joy's legendary "I love your voice cracks too."

Thanks for reading! Feel free to follow me at @jiuwuming! As always, comments and feedback are welcome! Until next time.