jieun is pretty, so pretty.
and loud and funny and strong. so very strong.
youngbae likes jieun. he likes her very much.
but not enough.

because there is joohyun.

sweet, delicate, fragile flower joohyun with bright eyes and sad smiles.
she’s beautiful.
and youngbae loves her. he loves her very much.
just enough, he thinks.

he hopes.

 

 

 

 

he was made perfectly to be loved. all smiling eyes and soft voice and kind heart.

so she did. she loved the boy that shined like stars and spoke in careful, weaving melodies.
because mother always told her to settle when she’s found good enough, to not waste time waiting on petty dreams of meeting The One because they are not real they are not real they are not real. and it’s not as if someone like joohyun deserved someone like that. not someone as weak and helpless and worthless as her. mother told her to take what little she could have and never ever ask for more.

because joohyun was not meant for great things.

 

 

 

 

jieun hates flowers, despises them.

the way they sway in the wind, sweet scent filling every crevice of the springtime.
the way their petals fall and rise with the wind, polluting the earth with ugly pinks and whites and yellows.
all of it, it’s absolutely despicable.

but she sits crosslegged in an emerald meadow, daisies in her hair and plucking petals.

he loves me not.
he loves me.

 

 

 

 

“smile for me, beautiful.”

smile, joohyun. laugh, joohyun. sing, joohyun, dance.
you must be perfect, you must be fine. smile, joohyun, bigbigbig and bright.

“are you ok, hyun?”

she blinks, the words already hanging from the tip of her tongue, waiting for the plunge.

 

 

 

 

they came unannounced.

in the middle of the night, the darkest part, the darkest minute.
he was worn, she whispered wonders – and it was wrongwrongwrong.

but not, somehow.

he could love her, youngbae knew he could love her. the pretty, loud, and strong one. the one that made flower crowns to rip them apart, rash and indecisive.

he should not, would not.
but he was.

falling from the high, and falling fast.

 

 

 

 

“ok,” he says, “it’s ok that you’re not ok.”

trembling fingers intertwine.

but it’s not.

she wants to scream it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. because girls like her aren’t allowed to be sad. because she’s supposed to be perfectperfectperfect and engulfing herself in sadness is far from perfection, mother dearest always said.

but she’s not allowed to say that either.

so she smiles her brightest smile, empty-eyed and dripping with false sincerity.

"ok."

 

he smiles and she takes her hand away, the smooth pill in her palm.
she throws it away when he's not looking.

 

 

 

 

they meet in dreams, or they seem like dreams. she can never tell anymore.

he is a tornado of sorts.
coming and going with sometimes storms, sometimes sunshowers.
an indecipherable mess even greater than herself, more tangled than her thoughts.
shattered into thousands of conflicting crystal pieces.

she's never wanted to fix something so bad.
she's never wanted anything so bad.

she wants him.

 

you're wrong, mother. you're wrong.
The One exists and his name is not youngbae.

 

 

 

 

when joohyun sleeps, there is jieun.

pretty, pretty jieun. willing to speak, willing to listen.
willing to touch, willing to feel.

willing to love.

 

she doesn't love you, youngbae. not like this. not like me.

 

he wishes she weren't so observant. 
but somewhere, he wishes she was right.
maybe then he'd be able to sleep at night.

 

 

 

 

The One is cracked perfection, more brilliant than the sun, yet broken into a thousand questions.

he's an escape. wonderland.
he fills her with stories and wonderful words like "home is where the heart is - that's not true. home is where you are."
and he is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.
and she wonders if she ever truely loved, because now love has a name.

it whispers yonghwa.

 

 

 

 

"you're like a child."

you're like a child. you're like a child. you're like a child.
she smiles, it's empty. she can't resist.

"but you are too, aren't you? so desperately, so childishly clinging onto something that doesn't need you anymore,"

he stops breathing.

"or did she ever really need you, youngbae?"

 

 

 

 

yonghwa tells her not to take those smooth white pills, because he disappears when she does.

and you don't want me to disappear, do you sweetheart?

she doesn't.
because joohyun's never really had a home, but if she did she knew it'd taste like him.
 

 

 

 

youngbae finds them, those ugly, ugly, ugly white pills.

hyun? why haven't you been taking these? come on hyun, they're good for you, please.
hyun, hyun, hyun, why? 

hyun.
what an ugly name.

I don't want them, youngbae. don't make me. please don't make me.

he says he's sorry, but he's not, she thinks. he's not really sorry. not now.
but he will be, oh he will be.

she swallows one down, clouded eyes and burning throat.

 

 

 

 

don't be mad, please don't be mad. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. he made me, I promise.

yonghwa doesn't speak. he can't.

 

 

 

 

joohyun is hysterical, ripping at her dead hair and clawing at her sunken face.
it's all your fault. it's all your fault.

she fingers a small container of smooth white pills, taking two, then three, then four. 
more, more, give me more. a month's worth untaken. more.

she wants to sleep.

 

 

 

 

youngbae's face is pressed into her naval, head in her lap, shaking.

you're acting like a child.

jieun can't breathe, can't speak, can't see.
it's thundering outside.

"she'll be a flower soon, right? the most exquisite, the most pristine."

yes, she should. she will.
jieun nods, holding the boy close, almost possessively.

she smells daisies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"hyun."

how beautiful it was when whispered into .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

*welp. this took a very dark turn. oops. //shot.

 

Round table 4:

Initial two cards - Pairing: IU x big bang taeyang

                                     Pairing: snsd seohyun x cn blue yonghwa

Three dealt cards - Prompt: "But the real truth was, you could want one thing and have a secret wish for it's opposite." - Deb Calatti

                                       Phrase: "Home is where the heart is - that's not true. Home is where you are."

                                       Genre: psychological