Black Dress (MiChaeng)
Just for Kicks | Random Twice One-ShotsPremise: One year after a break up, Chaeyoung runs into her ex at a club
Note: Mature language
Black Dress
“Perhaps it isn’t love when I say you are what I love the most – you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love” – Franz Kafka, from a letter to Milena Jesenská
“If this was meant for me, why does it hurt so much?” – Fear of Water, SYML
“My love, are you taking me home?” – End of Desire, MUNA
–
“You shouldn’t do that, you know. It’s not healthy.”
I look up to meet Nayeon’s burning eyes. She quickly snatches my phone away before I can react. “Hey!”
“Chaeng, you gotta let her go. Scrolling through her social media isn’t good for you.”
I lean over the table to take back my phone, but Nayeon raises her arm. Damnit. My phone is out of reach. Of course she uses her longer limbs to spite me. I mentally curse how I got the short end – literally – of the genetic roulette. Conceding my defeat, I sit back in my chair, and huff, “It’s not like there’s much to snoop through. She hasn’t updated anything since . . . you know.”
I lost count how many times I’ve checked her socials: Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, even her old Tumblr from back in the day – hoping that there would be some trace of her. Some sort of update. The only thing I could find, the only shred of evidence that she had touched her accounts at all, was that all of our photos together had been deleted. Every single one. Gone. It is like we were never in each other’s lives.
Nayeon heaves a sigh the way a big sister would. “Oh my god, Chaeyoung. You still have Mina as your phone background? Oh, no, no, no.” Nayeon taps away furiously at my phone screen, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Girl, what am I going to do with you?”
“Buy me another strawberry milkshake?”
Nayeon isn’t amused. “I’m serious. You can’t keep moping around like this – it’s not good for you. You’re becoming a cliché: sulking around the apartment in your pajamas, chugging beer, and watching way too much Game of Thrones!”
“Shut up, I have to get my money’s worth from the HBO subscription – it’s expensive.”
“Excuse me, I’m the one paying for it!”
“What is your point, Im?”
“My point is that we need to commence Operation: Ditch the . The Im Nayeon-approved plan of healing a broken heart. Step one: don’t have your ex as your phone wallpaper. Here.” Nayeon hands me back my phone; Kristen Stewart’s face is plastered on the front. “You’re welcome.”
“Uh, thanks?”
“Now,” Nayeon claps her hands together, “Step two: the best way to get over someone is by getting under someone else.”
“God, you give the worst advice ever, you know that, right?”
Nayeon shrugs. “Revenge . It’s what Mina deserves.” It’s not hard to miss the bite in her tone. “C’mon, All Saints’ Lounge tonight. You can thank me by buying the first round of drinks.”
All Saints’ Lounge used to be a secret hideaway club – kind of a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. During our college days, Nayeon and I used to come here often with our friends to let loose and be free of our academic worries. It’s been years since I’ve been back. I wonder if Nayeon remembers that this is where Mina and I first met. I doubt it; even before the break up, Nayeon, for some reason, always detested Mina. In fact, they both shared the mutual feeling. Neither of them ever explained to me why.
It seems that the club’s popularity has risen. It’s ing overwhelming tonight: there are too many people in this small dingy room, hollering and screaming, jumping and grinding. Bursts of red and purple and blue flashing lights paint the crowd; a mosaic of color splashed across clammy skin. The music is blasting the bass so loud, my heart feels like it’s going to explode in my chest. Alcohol and sweat reek the air.
“Tell me, why am I here again?” I shout to Nayeon as I adjust my blue blouse that’s about a size too big. It is a loaner from Nayeon who had been adamant that I must dress up in the most-see-through shirt she had in her closet. Note to self: stop taking dating advice from my very single-and-not-by-choice friend, Im Nayeon.
“C’mon, you baby,” Nayeon says as she drags me by the arm towards the bar. “I know you haven’t been clubbing for a while, so let’s start with something light.” She motions to a bartender to order.
It is just the two of us tonight; our third roommate, Jihyo, was supposed to join, but she had last minute commitments which means I will have to bear the burden of drunk Nayeon alone.
“Bottoms up, Son.” Nayeon hands me a glass. “Step three of Operation: Ditch the is to drink your ex away.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense for that to be step two?”
“Shut up. Less talking and more drinking.”
I carefully inspect the glass with uncertainty. “What exactly is this?”
“This –” Nayeon nudges the glass closer to my lips, “Is your key to a fantastic night. Drink up, babe!”
The cold liquid stings the back of the throat. “.”
Oh boy, this is gonna be a long night.
Nayeon insists on an endless onslaught of shots. One after another after another. It’s a good thing she has a well-paying job because there is no way I can afford the number of drinks sliding down our way.
What’s not a good thing is how quickly Nayeon becomes drunk. I see some things haven’t changed since college. Nayeon dances to the music the way your unfunny uncle does at your cousin’s wedding: arms flailing everywhere, footsteps way offbeat, and head swinging back and forth so hard you think her neck is going to snap. Her sloppy movement is embarrassing, and I am tempted to pull out my phone to record a blackmail video for later, but I don’t. Nayeon has been the only one to stick around the past year, helping me at my lowest low. I owe everything to her.
Mina and I dated for four years. We met back when I was sophomore in college, an art student on the brink of getting kicked out, and she a year ahead of me, the pre-medical school student prodigy. You couldn’t get more cliché than the two of us. We spent months teasing and flirting with each other until I got the courage to ask her out on a proper date. From that day forward we became attached to the hip. It was always Mina and Chaeyoung. Never just Mina. Never just Chaeyoung.
We spent so many waking hours together, and perhaps even more sleeping in each other’s arms. It was where we both felt at home. We weren’t perfect, of course. We had our flaws and our gripes; sometimes she spent more time focusing on her Nintendo Switch than on me when we hung out, and other times I would accidentally get paint on her expensive sweaters, forgetting there was a wet paint brush in my hand. But it was only small things like that. None of that ever tarnished our love for one another. I always thought of us like we were two dancers in sync: harmonizing each other’s steps and catching each other’s fall.
But despite our long time dating, my break-up with Mina was abrupt. There is no other way to describe it, really. Everything was just swept out from under my feet in a second. It was a swift cut from a katana: quick and clean. It wasn’t even in person either. No, I was dumped by Myoui Mina via text. We should stop seeing each other. No other explanation.
Maybe against better judgement, and one-hundred percent riding on desperation and alcohol, I had immediately texted Mina, begging for her to explain or change her mind. I didn’t understand, no one did. It didn’t seem like her. It couldn’t have been my Mina. Maybe it was a cruel joke. I probably flooded her phone with over 100 messages until Nayeon finally pried my own phone away from my trembling fingers.
Not once did I get a single answer back. The stupid seen notification still burns in my memory. That was the day Mina completely disappeared from my life. That was the day I was awakened from my dream.
“Chaeyoung!” I hear Nayeon call out, her words a bit slurred. “Why aren’t you dancing? Don’t just stand there! Have fun!”
Right. Fun. Although I am a tad tipsy, my reservations remain at the wheel. How does one dance at the club again? I shift on the balls of my feet, awkwardly trying my best to follow the crowd’s movements. God, I probably look so stupid right now. Maybe I shouldn’t laugh at Nayeon’s ridiculous dancing.
The DJ shouts something incoherent in his mic and the beat picks up, causing the crowd to grow manic. I quickly lose track of Nayeon in the sea of bouncing young adults. Great. My only hope now is to get back to the safety of the bar and away from this suffocating dance floor. But it is not easy. I’m pushed and shoved like a raft stranded by waves.
“Hey watch it!”
“Move it, shrimp!”
“Whoa there.” A pair of hands catch me as I stumble. I turn to see a girl holding me, her face full of worry.
“Thanks,” I reply. She’s taller than me by a lot – even with my heels on – and way prettier too. There is a striking beauty to her, from her doe-like eyes to the perfectly wavy hair to her too-casual outfit, consisting solely of a white cropped tee, jeans, and Converse. In this dim club lighting, she is Sirius stepped out from the night sky.
The girl says something, but I cannot make out what she says.
“WHAT?” My voice competes with the blasting bass.
I expect her to shout over the music, instead she leans down, her lips almost pressing against my ear. “Are you okay?” Her voice is soft – much too soft for a place like this.
My breath catches in my throat and I nod, barely. The girl smiles. I notice that she has dimples decorating both of her cheeks. Reflexively, I smile back, making the dimple on the right side of my cheek as noticeable as possible.
The girl sighs in relief and then holds out her hand. “Tzuyu.”
“Chaeyoung.” I grasp her hand, only to realize how sweaty my palm is – hastily I pull back. “, sorry.”
Tzuyu laughs. It’s a cute laugh. “Are you thirsty? Do you want something to drink?”
I definitely maxed out on drinks earlier with Nayeon, but I swear I can hear her admonish me from somewhere far away, Don’t you dare this up, Son!
Moments later Tzuyu is leading me back to the bar, my hand in hers, effortlessly navigating the crowd. The benefits of being tall, I guess.
Then I see her. I blink a few times to make sure the alcohol isn’t playing tricks on me. It’s not. It is her. We lock eyes for a brief moment before she melts into the crowd. Suddenly everything around me fades into a low hum like my head is submerged underwater.
“Wait, Tzuyu, I’m sorry but I have to go.” I am already pulling out from her grasp.
“Chaeyoung?” Tzuyu’s voice grows distant as I chase after the shadow. I make my way to the back of the club where the crowd is sparse and the music less invasive. For a second, I fear I lost her trail, catching no sight of her; but I notice a bathroom door swing close. Ah. Memories begin to prickle the back of my mind. I enter.
“Mina,” I breathe. The door shuts behind me and I hear the click of the lock. She slowly prowls around me like a predator, staring me up and down with silent scrutiny. Finally she stops at the chipped sink and faces me: her arms are folded elegantly across her chest, and the corner of her lips flick upwards into that knowing smirk she used to give me all the time.
“Hello, Chaeyoung,” she says, her voice as cool as glass.
My eyes drink her in, adjusting to the new Mina. She carries herself with a regal confidence, something I had never seen from her before. It’s alluring. It’s frightening. An open-shoulder black dress snuggles her silhouette, accentuating each and every one of her curves. Her inky black hair is cut a little above her s and her make up is heavier; a dark red that paints her plump lips, thick mascara lining her eyelashes, and the smokey eyeshadow that glimmers underneath the hazy bathroom lights. Her immaculate skin, a shade paler than what I remember.
On the surface, she is still my Mina – still beautiful as ever – perhaps even more so. But there is an ache in my chest, a knife wedged deep in my heart, knowing that the woman standing in front of me is not the same as the Mina I once knew. The Mina pre-break-up. In front of me is a stranger: the Mina who took the answers to all of my questions with her one year ago.
“I see some things haven’t changed,” Mina continues. “We used to come here all of the time, right?” She offers a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Truthfully, I didn’t expect to see you here. Nayeon said I should go clubbing to get my mind off of you.” I scoff, “The irony.”
“Nayeon was always the type who believed drinking and dancing could dispel any and every problem.” There’s an edge to her voice. Scorn, maybe.
“At least she stayed.”
Mina frowns and opens like she’s about to snap back, but stops. Instead she asks quietly, “Are you unhappy to see me?”
The question catches me off guard and I give into a moment of hesitation. I want to say yes. I want to say I had never wanted to see her again. Maybe even part of me wants to say I hate her. How foolish is that though? She would see right through me. I am the one who followed her into the bathroom to begin with.
Mina’s expression softens at my silence. “I’m happy to see you,” she says. “You look good. Really good.”
A humorless laugh leaves my lips. “Like that matters to you,” I reply flatly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
The hum of the fluorescent lights, the plip-plop of water droplets from one of the leaky taps, the muffled chatter of the crowd on the dance floor, the pounding bass that reverberates through the thin walls. Everything fills the air except Mina. This time is it her turn to be silent.
“I thought we meant more to each other,” I mutter under my breath, but Mina hears me.
“We do.” Her voice is almost a whisper, the wisp of smoke from an extinguished candle. “Oh Chaeyoung, you were the most important person to me – I . . . you still are. I missed you.”
No. No, no, no, no.
“That can’t be,” I choke. “No . . . no, Mina. You can’t say that. You have no right. You can’t say that!” My voice grows louder as rage seeps into every pore of my being. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? Do you? Do you? You literally sent one text and dumped me. No explanations. No replies back. Not even a good-bye. Nothing. Do you know what that felt like? Hell. That’s what it felt like. ing Hell. Twelve long months of my heart bleeding out. Twelve long months with you haunting me.
“And don’t speak ill of Nayeon either – when everything fell apart, she picked up the pieces even when I couldn’t. She let me move in with her shortly after . . . after everything . . . transpired . . . God, Mina you have no idea. No ing idea. You left me. Me, Chaeyoung – your girlfriend . . . me . . . I was your girlfriend.”
Tears sting at the corner of my eyes and there is a tremor unravelling from within. I do my best to not ugly sob, but I know I am at my very brink. “I spent those twelve months wondering why you left me. Was it something I said? Something I did? Maybe I wasn’t enough for you – not attractive enough, not interesting enough, not fun enough to be around anymore. I don’t have a ing clue. It might seem a little self-centered to think these things, but you left without ever telling me why. Why wouldn’t I conclude that I was the problem? What was I supposed to think?
“But now you’re here in front of me saying I am the most important person to you, that you missed me. Can’t you see, Mina? You can’t say that. You can’t do that to me.” I can barely muster the last words.
Mina’s heels click against the floor and within seconds she’s in my face. She cups my cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear. The cold touch sends chills from my fingertips to my toes. “My dear, dear Chaeyoung . . . I say it because it’s true. I have missed you. I have missed you so much.” Her heavy perfume steeps my nostrils; there is a jolt in my stomach when I realize it isn’t the light jasmine scent she used to wear. This one is smokier. Spicier. More sensual.
Oh, .
The next thing I know we’re kissing. It’s delicate at first: quiet breaths and soft pecks on the lips. Timid. Safe. It has been a year since we last kissed. And then it transforms into something more ravenous. A low growl rumbles in Mina’s throat as she presses her body closer to mine. The contact makes my head spin and I am almost sure that my knees will give out at any moment. Mina seems to sense this and she slides a hand around my waist, supporting me easily, as we continue to make out.
“Mina,” I groan, my back now wedged between her body and the grimy bathroom wall. Son Chaeyoung, what the hell are you doing? Nayeon and common sense shout at me in my head. Wasn’t the point of tonight to get under someone who isn’t Mina? But . . . “!” Mina softly nibbles the side of my neck. “Since when were you into biting?”
Mina replies smugly with more tiny bites and kisses, continuing their pathway south. I let out a very embarrassing moan when her lips reach my exposed collarbone. Her fingers dance delicately along my shirt buttons, slowly popping them open one by one.
“Whoa, wait,” I rasp, my rational senses finally grabbing ahold. I push her back weakly. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because!”
“Because we’re in a public restroom? That never stopped us before,” Mina teases.
“No, that’s not what I meant . . . I . . .” My voice falters as Mina’s hand resumes its journey downward, this time inside of my shirt.
“I want you, Chaeyoung.” She presses her right palm gently between my s, my heart shaking in her embrace. “Has your heart always beaten this fast?” she murmurs. Her gaze is steady on my chest as if she could truly see through the fabric, skin, and bone.
“Mina.”
“Hm?”
“Why did you leave me?”
She doesn’t answer for a very long time; her hand is still on my heart with each beat counting the silence. “They say you never realize how important something is until you lose it – I was so naïve back then. I thought I could never lose you.”
“What do you mean? You never lost me, Mina.”
Suddenly she drops her hand and begins to pace around the bathroom, agitated. “I’ve been good. I did what she said. I’ve kept my distance. I’ve tried to let go and let you live your own life – I really did, I swear. She said I would hurt you so she told me to forget it all – you – us. But she doesn’t understand. Being away from you has hurt me more than I can ever say. Every single ing day it’s eaten me up inside.”
“Mina, you’re not making any sense. Who is ‘she’?”
Mina shoots me a look; I can’t quite put my finger on it, but she almost seems . . . hungry. “I couldn’t stand being apart from you, but I wasn’t sure where to find you anymore. So I came here. Every Friday night, I would come here looking for you, hoping you would show up. It was a place to start; I thought maybe you’d be here like back in our college days. I waited for months and months and months. You never came. I feared you moved on, but you’re here in front me right now.
“Chaeyoung, I cannot tell you why I left you yet – I will someday, I will – for now, you must trust that I have my reasons.” She pauses. “I never wanted to leave you. Truly. I hoped we would meet again and that when we did, you would come back to me. Will you, Chaeyoung? Will you come back to me?”
Her words echo like a siren song. The logical part of me wants to resist – resist with all of my might. Remember, you were hurt! You were abandoned! You were betrayed! I know, I know, I know, I tell myself. But the mass of my desire rises like a tidal wave. Ever since she left, there has been a deep cavity carved within, waiting for her return. Temptation gnaws at the bit for me to fill that absence. With her and only her.
Will you come back to me?
I let out a soft laugh. “It’s funny, this past year I’ve imagined countless scenarios like this: you appearing out of nowhere and asking me to be together again. I wished for it. Prayed for it. Begged for it to happen.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing you beg,” Mina says, a smirk sliding across her face.
I roll my eyes. “I missed you, Mina,” I whisper, a smile of my own dances on my lips, as I bring myself towards her. “I have missed you all this time.”
Mina doesn’t waste any time for her lips to find mine again. Her right hand slithers back to its place inside my shirt – although no longer there just to assess my heartbeat it seems – and her other grabs a fistful of my hair and is the tide pulling me in. Mina is greedy. Very greedy. She bites my bottom lip, eliciting a long (and painful) moan from the back of my throat. This seems to encourage her and she slides her tongue inside my mouth. Her taste is sweet like I remember, but a metallic aftertaste lingers like an echo of a hidden secret.
Mina is relentless. She deepens her kiss as if she is trying to tear her way to my soul. An uneasiness creeps up again – now on a more instinctual level. My gut tells me to run. Immediately, I shove it back down. No. This is what I wanted: Myoui Mina, right here, kissing me like how we once did.
Except – not exactly like how we once did. Everything is the same and everything is different.
“I promise I won’t leave you again,” Mina says as she finally draws back, giving me a chance to breathe. I am impressed that her lipstick is still impeccably in place – I suspect I cannot say the same for myself.
“Promise promise?”
“Triple promise.” Mina smiles, and it’s her real smile this time: the cute gummy one that always warms my heart. But something is different about it now, something is off – particularly her teeth. Somehow they seem . . . sharper. “Quadruple promise, even.” Mina presses her forehead gently against mine. “You’re mine forever. I will make sure of it.”
She pins my arms at my side and nuzzles my neck again. I expect more tiny play nips, but I am caught off guard when she bites my flesh with pressure. Hard pressure. The sharp teeth puncture my skin and I feel the slow trickle of blood stain my skin.
“M-Mina?”
Mina ignores me and bites down harder. I whimper as my eyes start to water; my body squirms underneath her grip, desperate. Mina! What the ? Was this some new kink she picked up over the past year? What the hell is happening?
At last, she lets go. Blood is smeared around , and I admit, it does look a bit y. Her eyes are glowing a violent shade of red like there is a storm brewing in her gaze. My stomach churns. This isn’t my Mina. It can’t be.
“What . . .?” My voice fails me before I can even ask my question. What just happened? What did you do? What are you?
“We’ll be together forever,” Mina states simply.
And then it hits: a fury inside me. Acid courses through my veins, burning every inch of my body. I convulse in agony like a wounded animal, wanting to scratch at the pain that crawls beneath my skin. One inhuman scream after another escapes my lips. There is an internal pressure collapsing my chest: my lungs and heart feel like they are being squeezed by a metal cage. Dark spots graze my peripherals. My breathing becomes short and erratic; I frantically try to gulp the air around me.
“Shhh, baby, shhh. I got you.” Mina covers her hand over my mouth to muffle my screams and carefully lowers me to the floor, holding me as if I am the holiest object in the world. “Don’t be scared, please, don’t be scared. It’ll be okay . . . I got you.”
Time begins to stretch itself on the floor beside me. Seconds elapse. And elapse. And elapse. I know because I am counting them – it is all I can focus on to not submit completely to the pain.
Mina seems to understand this too. She adjusts me so my trembling head is cradled in her lap; her fingers run through my hair and she whispers sweet nothings to distract me from my anguish. I cling to her words with the last of my energy – afraid that if I miss one, I will slip away for good.
Soon my spasms wear down and the pain becomes a dull, exhausting ache. Blackness ripples my vision. My heart takes a heavy sigh. I meet her gaze one last time. Her eyes have returned to normal; the storm has faded and all that is left is a tenderness only meant for me.
And I know.
Mina leans down and kisses my forehead. “I’m here, Chaeyoung. Come home to me, my love.”
I close my eyes and let myself drown in darkness.
AN: Hi everyone. It's been a while since I've updated. This particular one-shot has taken me over a year to complete; it started when I was feeling down and after I binged Mike Flanagan's TV series, Midnight Mass (a big source of inspiration for this). For some reason, I really wanted to write a bit of a toxic love story and a piece about heartbreak. This story has had so many drafts - it originally was supposed to be short light-hearted and funny, and then it supposed to be dark and a bit horror-based, and somewhere along the way it unfolded into how it is published now. I can't say this is the most satisfied I've been with my work, but there comes a point where you must decide to either share it or quit before you run the story completely into the ground. It was challenging in both style and theme, and I can assure everyone that I will not be touching first-person present-tense anytime soon - but for this particular story, it was a must. It was the only appropriate way for Chaeyoung's POV to work with the ending.
Speaking of ending, I know there are many unanswered questions. I plan to continue this with two other parts - hopefully it will not take a year to release, haha.
Anyways, thank you so much for reading and all of the support! I really do appreciate every single comment, upvote, subscriber, reader. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Here are some other sources of inspiration, many of which were songs: Black Dress by Josh Golden, End of Desire by MUNA, If I Hated You by Fletcher, Roses by Messer, and the soundtrack of The Crown Season 4 and all of the Newton Brothers' work with Mike Flanagan. Please check them out if you have the time!
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