Date: 170713

Word: baby

Character/s: Krystal Jung (f(x))

Inspiration: "Pink Tape" Art Film

Word Count: 462

A/N: because jung soojung is just pure and utter perfection and it's f(x). is this even a drabble? 

She’s sitting in the cupboard, sipping apple juice with her pinky up and poking holes into her woollen vest so that her mother won’t forget to talk to her later. Its half past three and the trees are singing their ominous melody as usual. Krystal thinks that they are gloating, laughing outside as their branches swell to and fro while she’s trapped in her delusional “home”. The only thing her home means to her for the moment is cramped knees and almost darkness.

She could fall asleep to their taunts and teases but the Grim Reaper comes to collect her with a scowl on her face and a murderous torch blazing within her eye sockets.

“Jung Soojung! What are you doing here? Your father and I have been worried sick. Are you crazy?” The woman practically spits the words at her, but it is the closest to an embrace Krystal has ever received from the woman; the venom from her tongue and the closeted paternal devotion.

“No I’m not. I’m perfectly sane,” she replies, somewhat flurried in the head.

“If perfectly sane means mentally dysfunctional then we have a problem.”

Krystal’s eyes twitch. It’s not abnormal but it’s not usual either.

“Go to bed Soojung,” the woman says.

“No.”

“Go to bed.”

“No. I like it here. It’s comfo-”

The woman grips her shoulder, talons digging into skin, and throws her out of her makeshift home. Krystal is disgruntled and she loses it. Whatever perception of balance and composure she has is gone out the window with the mockery of the trees.

“What is wrong with you?” The woman asks with severe distaste in her tone. Krystal turns away from the disappointed face to the floral printed wall, avoiding, avoiding. The words become less of a question and more of a statement the longer they hang in the air. Footsteps ring in her ears as she is left alone once again.

The silence of the world is hers. She’s happy now without that chaotic woman in her life, searching in her head. She is so set on acknowledging her own happiness that she fails to halt the flow of water from her eyes and the words that pour out of . Mumbling, mumbling she misses her mother. The misshapen ovals in her clothing cry for attention. Crying even harder for a maternal hand and a sewing needle. They want anything to feel whole again. Krystal's fingers wrap through the destroyed fabric as she keeps yearning in a neverending cycle of "I need you"s and "I love you"s. 

She cries all the time. She is restricted without obvious boundaries. She needs to be fed but has yet to be. She desires entertainment but all she gets is everything less than. She tries to make friends but they can barely communicate. She loves her mother even though she believes that the feeling will never be mutual.

She is little Jung Soojung; ignoring what she needs to answer and wishing for what she does not try to get.