About beauty and love.

YoonYul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

“Hello, Yul?”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Did I wake you?”

 

“No no no. I’m going to be up anyway, so— what’s up?” Yuri bleakly said her voice thick with sleepiness. A girl beside her, nudging her arm, a husky groan escapes from the girl’s lips as she wraps her arm around her waist.

 

“Oh— I’m sorry, I thought you’re alo—“

 

 And Yuri had to sit up as she reflexes her arms then walks to the bathroom, trying to avoid slumber sneaking against her eyes.

 

“No, it’s okay. Anything wrong?”

 

“I— ”

 

“Yoong?”

 

“It’s about our school project,”

 

Yuri thought, she heard her best friend the wrong way or the signal was just messing up with her phone or her five senses hasn’t fully in rhythm yet.

 

“Our project?”

 

“e—yeah?”

 

“Well—t’s Sunday today? Why—”

 

“I know, but I was just wondering if you—”

 

“C’mon, Yoong, that science project—

 

“History project—”

 

“Okay, sorry that history project is due next month and you’re acting like one of our drama club teachers, relax Yoong, we could do it on next week! Okay?”

 

“Yeah, but I think we should do it right away, because Ms. Chae has to approve the drafts first before the finals and we don’t have time to do all research on the internet.”

 

There was a long pause on the other line.

 

Sigh. “Okay, let’s do it. But I’ll do it if you come—”

 

“No.” She pressed the word lucidly. She knows where this is going.

 

“Yoong, it’s just a party, you won’t lose anything besides we’ll be together the whole time.”

 

“I told you, I’m not going, I can’t go—”

 

“Meet me in my house now! I’ve been waiting for this!” She says, yelling then hungs before Yoona could reply.

 

“Wh—what?”

 

No, there's no way, that she will go to that corny highschool homecoming dance.

 

---

 

No matter what angle Yoona looks in this predicament, she will always be in torment for her life. With bullying craze and dealing with self-esteem since she was born. Yeah, it’s a bad thing and undoubtedly made her part of a group labelled as ‘No boyfriend since birth’ or girlfriend... technically, it has something to do with her face, poise and appearance as whole. Make up? No way. She hates it more than anything else she’d rather touch dirt than make up— it made no sense really, make up wouldn’t help apply confidence in her, it just wouldn’t, as simple as that. Being a geek in their school, is another thing, added the burden throttling her neck. Eyes and disgusted laugh thinking she’s all that crap belongs in the dump, then Kwon Yuri is her best friend, like okay, hands raise... eyebrows furrowing... jaw-dropping faces questions like... ‘is that true?’ ‘that’s ridiculous!’ ‘Kwon Yuri would never—’ murmurs and incomprehensible gibberish voices surrounded the hallway upon her veiled secret spread like wildfire over their school.

 

Having Kwon Yuri as her best friend is a bad thing and a good thing or whatever or it could be either at the same time. Good thing because, Kwon Yuri is rich, with limousine fetching her, credit cards...sssss, her family owns a fashion clothing line as popular as Vera Wang’s bridal line. Kidding, perhaps not as popular as Vera’s but near to it’s popularity. Placing them as second. Like that, and richness isn’t the whole entire reason why Kwon Yuri is fascinatingly beautiful, it has something to do with her face and body. Body. And the thing that makes Yuri even hotter, is that she doesn’t brag about it. You think all the abs, the twenty-one waist line, long legs, tan flawless skin, impeccably coolness of her appeal hides a woman who’s heart holds a very humbling personality living with an oblivious expression that she’s not aware of her being so popular in their place.

 

Having Kwon Yuri as her best friend, had she any other choice, though? She’d told Yuri that they’d pretend to be complete strangers in their new school. But Yuri won’t let her and says that she’s proud of Yoona being her best friend and she’ll do everything to protect her from those pest insects who’ll try to get her in the way. So when they’re in school, for example strolling somewhere be it the library, comfort room, gym or wherever. Girls and boys would be following them like deranged stalkers who could any minute appear in front of them with knife or instead... in reality, with their cameras, taking pictures like she was a celebrity, well, in a way, she might’ve pass South Korea’s one of the famous supermodels. Totally, and totally, Yoona’s left standing alone like an idiot watching her best friend being hotbed with different genders. But it’s okay really, it doesn’t get old and she’s fine with it, she pushes herself to be alright, her face smiling genuinely knowing her insides are aching so bad that she thought she might be sick.

 

Kwon Yuri wouldn’t like her. No. It’s impossible. They’re best friends and just best friends.

 

But she doesn’t know why, she couldn’t make out of the possible things that made Yuri, strangle her out of her shell and make friends with her. When there like, lots and lots of people out there who’d cut their eyebrows in exchanged for Yuri’s presence in their circle.

 

Isn’t Yuri great?

 

And, she, being unfortunate.

 

Unfortunate? How is that... explain. How. Im Yoona, with her brown thick eyeglasses, favourite brown cardigan, plaid skirt, dirty white sneakers and without a touch of makeup which made her skin paler like she’s in leukaemia mode— . Now, imagine it. Im Yoona looks like she’s going to attend a seminar in a religious society. All that’s left is a bible...

 

But Yuri... doesn’t mind that, in fact she says to her that she has to stay like this as if it’s okay with her. That she accepts Yoona for who she is and what she is or even how she is, and Yoona would laugh of how completely cheesy ridiculously funny her statement was. Her fascination for Yoona is beyond understanding. People shaking their heads by the thought of it. Although, Yoona wouldn’t deny how thankful she is that at some point in her life, someone would think this way to her— the someone would be fascinated to whoever she is, she means, like yeah— whatever. And maybe, this could be one of the reasons why she fell in love with... her best friend. But the sad thing is, she knew, that Yuri will never reciprocate her feelings towards her. Ouch.

 

Here’s another thing.

 

Girls, girls, girls, every night even in the afternoons, a habit that Yuri couldn’t get away, or something that ‘normal’ thing a person does. But to sleep different girls every night— every night, is something that Yoona worries about. It’s not seeing Yuri in a different aspect of being a or what, the fact that, the girls themselves presents their own at her is something Yuri couldn’t just shake or get away. Well, when Yoona found out about this, the uttering of words were trapped in —unable to come out and Yuri had to console her—

 

“Yoong, it’s just pleasure.”

 

Yoona would just give her one quick smile then frown again.

 

---

 

Yoona looks around her, as she was on her way in Yuri’s house. Unconsciously she inhales then exhales— a good weather to stroll down the street perhaps, she could invite Yuri to walk around eat ice cream, while the sun is above yielding the earth with it’s searingly bright luminosity— birds that flew... the clouds serving as their rendered prison like a reverie of nature. And having Yuri beside her would be enough. 

Not a bad day for day dreaming?

Upon arriving in Yuri’s house, she stops standing in the threshold looking intently at Yuri who is talking with one of their house cleaners. The house cleaner keeps on nodding to her every word then the old woman turns her head toward Yoona’s direction.

 

“Ms. Yoona-ssi!”

 

She sees her as Yuri’s head twisting.

 

“Yoong!” Yuri jogs toward her, held her hand then interlaces it. Striding across the guest room their eyes locking, Yuri had always the vibrant cheery aura that Yoona find herself, flustered.

 

“We can talk outside— at the school, why here in the mansion?”

 

“Because, I have something important to do.”

 

“You— you’re busy?”

 

“No. Not actually busy,”

 

A sigh escapes from Yoona’s lips, as she walks past right at her. Her arms folded on her chest.

 

“Yul, I don’t think I could go to that homecoming dance.”

 

“Why not?” She went for her pockets, eyes at the back of her best friend.

 

“I just don’t think—”

 

Yuri grabs her elbow and as Yuri faced her, there was reassurance in her face, no it’s not that she’s ready for some reprimanding like her mother does or that all mothers do that. In a way, Yuri was close to the kind of mother that she has.

 

“Yoong, you’ve been hiding forever, I told you how many times being beautiful takes an effort.”

 

She locks their eyes for a moment, examining Yuri’s facade, the concern the fragility the love are mixing altogether to what she calls the look of the shattered Yuri. She knows her too well. And also, she knows that Yuri could never look at her in a way that her heart would want it to— did she looked at in the brightest angle? Yuri is nice to everyone and her being Yuri’s best friend is far from romanticism.

 

She yanks her hand and sits on the couch, “Can you actually hear yourself? Words are just words, there’s no way—”

 

“What about me? I don’t have someone to go with.”

 

“That’s full of crap! You have millions of admirers waiting there.”

 

Yuri became quiet and Yoona took of notice in that, a thick blanket of silence wraps around them, which made every sensation worst, when the thought of knowing her best friend really well had placed her in solace but sadly it’s not, when obliviousness placed her in a dead end. Her low self-esteem dragged lower again.

 

“Anyway,” She says, breaking the silence. “I’m going home,”

 

Yuri laughs.

 

“You’re so—”

 

Again.

 

“Don’t start with me!”

 

“Yoong, you just don’t realize.”

 

“What?”

 

Yuri waves her hand dismissively, “I can’t explain it,”

 

Sometimes, Yuri makes her crazy with all these riddles and everything. Not that Nostradamus is her father. She just talks to her with hidden meanings and riddles and it's getting annoying each time Yuri does that.

 

Yoona rolls her eyes, “Anyway, I’m going grocery, wanna come?”

 

“No, we’ve got a lot of things to do.”

 

“What?” She furrows her eyebrows.

 

“I have something for you.”

 

Something in her tone that made Yoona shift uncomfortably in her seat.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Let’s just say, this a day of change.”

 

---

 

 

No. She doesn’t know what’s happening. No, she doesn’t know how it happened. But she knows, she’d kill Yuri after this. First, she was just sitting down, conversing with Yuri, second she’s inside a circle booth, white curtains around, mirrors everywhere, three of them—two women and she thinks a gay were doing something in her face and hair, realizing that, her cheeks feels hot as they apply something liquid— and quite sticky. She hears them, murmuring—

 

“BB Cream spf 27”

 

“Not 27! That’s high you !”

 

“Don’t call me !”

 

“Spf 25—”

 

“Floral waltz her skin tone seize it!”

 

“Tint for her lips—”

 

shk. shk. shk.

 

“Open your lips, ajar it a ‘lil”

 

“Okay good— there”

 

“god you have big mouth!”

 

“like a mouth of...”

 

“alligator!”

 

Psssh.

 

“Gimme Revlon! No! a mac! What about Clinique?”

 

“some liquid foundation please! Fast fast! Ms. Kwon’s gonna be mad!”

 

Ms. Kwon?

 

Oh yeah right.

 

"A bronzer! Now! N.O.W"

 

“You’re making her look like kate moss! She’s too old and a cougar! Paffft.”

 

“she looks like—”

 

“Krystal jung, isn’t it obvious, duh.”

 

“no no no. Not Korean celebrity, the aura, give her the aura! The aura of a Hollywood celebrity!”

 

Hollywood? What is that? Place?

 

No, it’s food moron.

 

“do her hair! scrap her scalp!”

 

Scrap?

 

What do you mean scrap?

 

Like this.

 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

 

Another scrap!

 

Am I geisha in here?

 

Whut?

 

They're torturing my scalp—

 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

 

“you have a lot of dandruffs what are you using?”

 

“what?! Hush that’s a bad word that stuff is arrg don’t use that label again, dear!”

 

Scrap again, like pulling my skull out of my head.

 

“you know we could use these dandruffs as snowflakes outside,”

 

“dear let me have that channel tint,”

 

 

Scrapping then scrapping until she feels someone’s hands smoothing a conditioner in every part of her scalp, massaging the bridge in the back of her neck— it tickles her— relaxing her nerves. Minutes past, no not minutes but hours, four hours past, the scrapping is done, until she dozes off to sleep, then as they nudges her, she wakes, pulling her eyelids with spiteful tugs. What just happened?

 

Slowly and slowly, she saw someone in the mirror.

 

Who’s that?

 

Who do you think she is?

 

A celebrity?

 

It’s strange because the beauty looks back at you. Staring at you intently— is she not familiar?

 

No.

 

Try to blink.

 

She blinks.

 

It also blinked at the same time! At the same time? Same time—? Mirror? Mirr— Oh my god. No way.

 

“H— holy ?”

 

She lifts her hand, nearing in the mirror. Touching it. Touching the soft glass in front of her— touching her own reflection. A reflection of her own sentiment— No she’s not. She thinks. It’s impossible. She’s ugly and will always be. She doesn’t need this, these things; channel couquette, bb cream, those spf whatever, glitters in her eyelashes, Revlon photo ready and the gold bronzer making her nose looking pointy unlike before, the glowing in her skin is so undeniably stunning, no flecks or flaws or any pimples or what she could stipulate. Did the world turn upside down? Who is this girl? The pounding in her head begin to intensify that she wanted to wash her face right away.

 

“You’re beautiful.” The gay whispers, arms folded on his chest.

 

She looks at him. “This isn’t me,”

 

“It’s you,” he whispers, his voice so soft and so eager.

 

“No, it’s not!”

 

“This is surreal— impossible.”

 

This is insanity. Incredulous insanity, her eyes feels itchy as if an ant had live there. Not it’s not an ant. It’s contact lenses, sure thing, contact lenses huh. But where’s her eyeglasses? Okay she doesn’t need those, she can see even the dry liquid drops in the mirror. Everything is clear—with impossibility of awareness, a completely new thing to learn probably? This isn’t learning, she thinks! This is pretending! A stranger of her insanity but she feels good, she feels like on the top of the world, on the top? But what if she falls down? It’s going to crash everything, returning her to where she belongs, to her damp 1980’s clothes.

 

 

“It’s called art, my dear.”

 

A very pretty woman pops above his shoulder, “We know that you’re beautiful, it’s just that you’re hiding it.”

 

“No this is a lie, I could never look like this. This is beyond—”

 

And then another cute woman pops above his another shoulder, “It’s you. And it’s what we do,”

 

“We uncover the real you.” The gay continues, his face so close to her, she could smell his breath.

 

“Stand up!”

 

Okay?

 

Slowly she grooms to stand, as dizziness has applied her head and she had condoned it.

 

“Oh!” She gasps, silently, her hand covering .

 

She never knew her legs were that long?

 

Her brown cardigan is gone.

 

Her plaid skirt is gone.

 

It was a cocktail dress— a flesh cocktail dress showing her bare shoulders, by the sight of it had wavered in her mind that her skin is no question impossibly smooth like statues built in some historical museum— hair as shiny as the models of Pantene or L’oreal silky hair beneath her shoulder blades then her eyes traces her collarbones so ily manipulative. Oh, even collarbones could be manipulative, eh? Or, she’s just being narcissistic. Blame? Who wouldn’t? Right there, a wisp of cleavage is in sight, so the liberation stamped off the walls of conservation— well the dress is low-cut; that is why... and of course, a must, her unexpectedly long legs that goes on forever driving her crazy then her feet collaborated with the Jimmy Choo’s. Wow. She didn’t know, her body could be this curvy or curvier— she doesn’t know, it’s like a person could slid down her sides like a kid swinging on a swing— her waistline is a waistline of a certain model. A model.  

 

There were new things to learn, huh.

 

“A simple dress, isn’t it?”

 

“A simple? This is simple for you?”

 

“Transforming a simple dress into an appealing dress takes the right person to wear,”

 

“So, I’m the right person?”

 

“What do you think?” He ghosts a naive smile.

 

The two women behind him, studies her appearance in the mirror stand. “Will you look at that?”

 

She heard a snap of fingers, eyes miraculously turned into something resembling abhorrence. Not perfect.

 

“But something’s wrong!” The other woman who had highlights of blonde in her tresses gawked at her oddly.

 

“Yeah! Something’s wrong!”

 

A snap of fingers again.

 

“Her mannerisms! Arrg! Where is your poise? The dress is ruined!”

 

Both women gritted their teeth, eye spewed in loathing at her well being, exhales were heard— their faces embark failures. What does she need to do? What if she’ll get her clothes back? kill kwon yuri then go home or sleep then study then cry, gawrrrd this is embarrassing!

 

“Should I get my—”

 

“You see girl, even if you’re wearing the most extravagant dress in the world and you’ve got the perfect body with it’s y features in all right angles but then your composure is as worst as an old woman’s osteoporosis then miracles off art is defeated!”

 

The gay smirks, his tone wore decisiveness, clapping his hands and she notice his perfect silver manicured finger nails. Within a second, he stands up like a soldier— chest out, his thin lips pressed lightly.

 

“We’ll work on that, but first, let’s see to it, Ms. Kwon sees that Aphrodite has gone back to land, come to me darling,”

 

His back to what he’s doing— giddily as cheery as a sun she had seen earlier, his long arms sneaks her hand like a snake,

 

“Shoo! Lily and Lala roll the curtains,”

 

Wait. Who are these people, by the way?

 

A hand pokes outside the curtains, the curtains was now open.

 

First, revealing a leg that could go on forever like the streams of River Nile. Second, the hidden arms and shoulders are exclusively seen like in Tyra Banks's America's next top model. Third, when Yoona's face is now in her vision, her mind got hit by a thunderbolt;

 

Kwon Yuri’s jaw dropped.

 

“Who are you?”

 

Yoona smiles so faintly, “Well do you know Aphrodite?”

 

Kwon Yuri’s heart dropped.

 

“Can Aphrodite date with me?”

 

Yoona moves closer to her, “I’m going back to my home Venus, wanna come with me?”

 

Kwon Yuri’s dropped.

 

“Even if you take me in Pluto.”

 

Aphrodite is alive again.

Damn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A/N

 

Hiiiiiiiiiiiii.

Yoona should totally uncover. 

And I totally just dropped my heart when she did.

Lol. Why is the author mumbling of her own piece of work.

Anyway, 

Doyalyk8?

Comments will earn you both Yuri and Yoona! Haha.

So.... any request? :p