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minju thinks yuri thinks too much.
her brain is always on the move, thoughts fleeting, never lingering in one place for too long. when they speak it’s quick, rushed, yuri never liking to stay on one topic for any longer than she needs to. her lips are constantly pursed, thinking and second-guessing every little thing she says. the cogs in her head turn far faster than minju could ever hope to keep up with, but she finds herself running anyway.
yuri speaks quickly, rapid-fire like the shots of a machine gun, but she’s always calculated enough with what she says that it’s hard to deny she knows what minju feels for her. “you’ll never leave me, will you?” yuri whispers, tracing patterns into minju’s skin, and minju just has to say yes.
and when they touch, it’s only for a second, but fuck, yuri’s hands always ghost over hers like she doesn’t know the effect she has on minju; her lips are always on minju’s cheek for just short enough that minju has to question if they were ever there at all. it’s just enough for minju to crave more and also think that this is enough, keeping minju both in her grasp and just out of reach.
minju thinks yuri thinks too much, because she always knows how to make her teeter on the edge of want and content
-
“you see that, min?”
minju looks up from her plate to where yuri is pointing with her fork, at a small table behind her where a lone woman sits, leather jacket thrown haphazardly around the chair. she’s got her hair in a high ponytail, brown tufts of spilling out and framing her face.
minju can’t see her face, but she already looks like just yuri’s type, and minju grimaces.
minju looks back at yuri, seeing how her eyes narrow in at the girl, lips mashed together in concentration. she can practically hear the cogs turning in yuri’s head now, the plan already coming together. leather jacket girl is just another toy to be played with and discarded when yuri loses interest, and minju would feel bad for her if she weren’t also a little jealous.
yuri snaps up suddenly, putting down her fork and tying the bow on her ponytail a little tighter.
“wait here,” she says, standing up. yuri straightens her clothes, as if she needs to do that in order to impress anyone. minju’s eyes trail after yuri as she walks over to leather jacket girl, drawing up the opposite chair and starting a conversation like it’s nothing.
you shouldn’t watch, minju tells herself, but she just can’t stop herself. she turns in her chair, un-subtly watching yuri’s smirk as she speaks, eying the girl opposite her just flirtatiously enough to keep her hooked.
minju knows that look all too well. it’s worked on her for years.
shaking those thoughts aside, minju watches. she watches yuri and leather jacket girl effortlessly go back and forth about something. yuri is visibly enjoying herself, biting her lip and throwing her hair over her shoulders, all the while looking the other girl dead in the eyes.
and then the strangest thing happens.
minju only sees it for a split second, but she’s sure it happened – an unfamiliar look crosses yuri’s face, her relaxed, lazy features twisting into something… different. something minju never imagined yuri would even have the capability of expressing.
she looks surprised, stunned even, and it’s not a look minju has ever seen on her.
but her features only twist for that split second before yuri returns to familiar calm.
leather jacket girl stands suddenly, grabbing her jacket off the seat and walking over to stand by yuri’s side. she bends down to yuri’s level, cupping her cheek with one hand and leaning in to whisper something into her ear, which is when yuri’s face unmistakably morphs into one of stunned silence.
it’s terrifying, almost, that someone like yuri still has the capacity to feel stunned, and minju shudders at the thought of what leather jacket girl might have said.
said girl pulls away from yuri, pulling her jacket around. her head turns, scanning the room, before she locks eyes with minju, and it’s then that minju gets her first good look at her.
the woman has plump, red, lips which mash together upon spotting minju, eyes narrowing intimidatingly at her. her chestnut eyes bore into minju’s, raking through her soul, and minju feels herself freeze up.
leather jacket girl’s lips curl into a smirk, not a playful one like yuri’s, but one of victory.
she’s walking out of the café before minju can react.
minju swallows thickly, arms weak.
“yuri?” she calls out to the girl still sitting at the other table. “what was that?”
there’s silence, thick and tense, before yuri speaks.
“that,” she says quietly, voice barely a whisper, “was choi yena. and i’m not going to let her win.”
-
minju also thinks yuri doesn’t think enough.
she’s smart, and she knows it, which is why minju thinks yuri should really know better than to do things that could get her hurt.
things like chasing choi yena.
and maybe minju has an ulterior motive behind not wanting yuri with yena. maybe she wishes yuri would try that hard for her, maybe she desperately wants yuri to show her the same feelings she shows yena, maybe she wants yuri to see her as more than she does right now.
but maybe it’s also because minju knows that behind all that, behind the playfulness and the flirtatiousness and the constantly turning cogs, that yuri’s just a scared, small girl made of glass. maybe she just doesn’t want the glass to shatter, for yuri to break beyond repair.
minju realises she isn’t one to talk, and so she never says any of this aloud.
minju thinks yuri thinks too much, but she’s also deathly afraid of the day she starts not thinking enough.
-
minju doesn’t know what yuri sees in yena.
she supposes yuri sees the thrill in her, the adrenaline high that comes with a relationship you know can’t last but feels so good anyway, the rush in your blood when you’re not in control.
so, exactly what minju sees in yuri.
yuri’s after the adrenaline high, and adrenaline highs never last, so minju hopes and prays for the day the rush yuri desperately craves will fizzle out.
that little bit of hope is all that’s stopping her from looking yuri in the eye and begging her to stop when she’s dragged along to yena’s garage on the outskirts of town.
“i don’t see why i have to be here,” minju grumbles, straightening her coat. the road they’re on is… quiet, to say the least, narrow and potholed and decidedly not somewhere minju would ever find herself under normal circumstances.
“emotional support,” yuri fires back, but they’re both aware that yuri has no need for anything as lowly as emotional support. minju’s really here as a getaway; a consolation prize if yuri can’t win yena over, and ouch that stings but minju’s used to it.
“now you just stay here, i’ll be right back,” yuri says. she turns her head over her shoulder, eyes narrowing in on the garage entrance across the road where yena lounges, beer in hand.
“you sure?” minju asks. there’s a nagging thought at the back of her head that this is the start of something very, very bad.
“very,” yuri doesn’t even spare her a glance, rummaging through her bag for her pocket mirror. “i look fine, right? do i look like i tried too hard?”
no, minju thinks, but yena will be able to tell anyway.
“no,” minju says, “you look perfect.”
yuri flashes her a half-hearted smile, the warmth never reaching her eyes. she holds out a finger, gesturing in a come-hither motion, all too familiar to minju by now. she bends down to yuri’s height and lets her plant a quick kiss on her cheek.
“don’t let that get you flustered,” yuri winks, patting minju’s head. “see you in a bit, yeah?”
minju watches as yuri crosses the road, lips tugging upwards in a small smile.
-
from her spot across the road, minju can see how thoroughly disinterested yena looks in yuri, but then again yuri’s never let that stop her. she can’t see yuri’s face or hear what either of them are saying, but just the thought of her makes something burn in minju’s chest. yuri could be hers, but she’d chosen yena over her, and here yena was, turning yuri away like it was nothing.
minju’s fists clench. she jams them into her pocket, feeling her nails digging crescents into her palms.
patience, she thinks, as if that’s ever worked out for her. just wait, and she’ll realise.
her eyes bore deep into yena’s skull, fists clenching harder than she thought was possible. it’s all because of girls like yena, girls who can give yuri the high she’s looking for, girls who yuri sees as a challenge, girls who can’t see the little girl made of glass that yuri is inside.
minju growls. yuri could be hers, but she isn’t.
yena looks up at that second. their eyes meet.
for a while, nothing happens, the two of them continuing to stare each other down.
yena smirks, eyebrow raising in challenge.
she stands suddenly, setting her beer on the ground and turning to face yuri. yena murmurs something to the shorter girl, smirking a little wider at the response. minju watches as yena leads yuri around the back of the building, yuri not even sparing her a glance as their figures retreat out of sight.
yena throws minju one last victorious look over her shoulder as she disappears from view.
-
(minju loosens her fists.)
(she feels the flesh of her palms throb from where her nails had dug into them, but she can’t care less.)
(the fire that had been burning inside her burns out, leaving a cold, empty cavern where it had once been.)
-
yuri gets home at an ungodly hour smelling of cheap perfume and cigarette butts.
minju’s still awake when she stumbles through the door, hunched over the dining table and poring over the plans for a new dress design.
“you’re home late,” she says coldly, scratching something out in her notebook. yuri giggles innocently, half-walking half-tripping over to where minju sits, nuzzling her face into her neck and wrapping her arms around her shoulders.
“aww, are you maaaad?” yuri laughs, breath reeking of cheap whiskey, minju’s face scrunching up at the smell.
“you’re drunk, yuri,” she says firmly, prying yuri’s face off of hers.
“don’t be mad, pleaaaaase?” yuri pouts, clearly not hearing her.
“you need to go to bed.”
“tell me you aren’t mad at me first.”
“i’m not fucking mad at you, now go to bed,” minju spits, hating that she’s telling the truth. she hates it the same way she hates yena, hates that she can’t shake of her attraction to yuri like a moth to flame, hates that yuri can trample all over her and show up drunk at one in the morning and minju would still move mountains for her.
yuri giggles, pressing a kiss to minju’s cheek that’s just sloppy enough to confirm that yuri is, indeed, drunk out of her mind. “mmkay. g’night, min.”
minju keeps her head down as yuri disappears down the hallway. the bedroom door shuts with a soft click, just soft enough not to be noticed if minju hadn’t been listening out for it. minju sets down her pencil, quietly getting out of her seat and tiptoeing down the hall. she grasps the doorknob, cool against her skin, but can’t bring herself to open the door.
minju’s afraid. she’s afraid of the look yuri had on her face when she got home. she’s afraid that yuri’s lopsided grin and dizzy giggles are the result of more than just one too many drinks.
choi yena’s face flashes through her mind. choi yena and her stupid, stupid, smile of victory.
minju opens the door.
yuri’s dead asleep on the bed, as visible from the steady rise and fall of her chest. she’s spawled face-up, clearly not having bothered to pull the covers over herself, hair splayed about her head like a silver halo. minju cracks a small smile at the sight, creeping closer.
she sees it again. that look.
yuri’s lips curl upwards, the faintest sliver of a smile.
yuri is in love.
it ignites something in her, her worst fears realised all at once. yuri isn’t in control anymore. yuri isn’t behind the wheel. it takes a lot for minju not to make a sound in that moment hovering over yuri’s bed, the water threatening to spill from her eyes at any second.
she can’t be here any longer. it’s killing her to even try.
minju grabs the corner of the blanket, pulling it over yuri. she looks so small like this, small and frail and so easy to break, just another girl made of glass. minju dreads the day yena grows bored of her game.
“min? are you there?” yuri says weakly, huddling into the blanket.
minju hums quietly in affirmation, lacing her fingers with yuri’s.
“you… you’re there…” yuri repeats, sounding relieved, almost. “you’re there, and you won’t ever leave, will you?”
minju tightens her grip on yuri’s hand.
“no,” she whispers, “i won’t.”
i can’t, minju wants to say, but she doesn’t.
-
minju watches yuri slip away.
she watches the reins begin to slip away from her, the cogs slow in her head grinding to a miserably slow pace, and yet she watches as yuri starts to smile, really, truly, smile, every time yena’s name escapes her lips.
it breaks her heart to see yuri like this. minju knows it can’t last, but yuri looks so fucking happy and it’d kill her to even try and take that away from her.
and so minju watches.
she watches as choi yena wins a little more every day.
-
“i’m going out.”
minju lifts her head from her work to find yuri by the shoe rack, searching through the rows of shoes.
“are you gonna be late again today?” minju asks. yuri laughs, a little more relaxed than she’s used to, and this time it reaches her eyes.
“jealous?” yuri teases, shooting minju a wink.
yes, minju thinks, throat tightening.
“no,” minju says, forcing herself to look yuri in the eye. “i just miss you.”
yuri’s gaze softens. she sets her bag on the ground, walking over to where minju sits, and draws up the chair next to her.
“i’m sorry,” she says, “we haven’t really seen each other much recently, have we?”
minju avoids her gaze, turning back to her sketches. it’s killing her that she can’t tell whether yuri’s being genuine, or whether this is just another case of her knowing minju’s weak spots.
“hey, talk to me,” yuri says. minju can practically hear her pouting. “what’s on your mind?”
every day i wake up scared that yena will get bored of you today and you’ll be broken when you find out.
minju keeps silent, scribbling absent-mindedly on her notes.
“min,” yuri pouts, grabbing her chin and turning it to face her. yuri’s puppy eyes gaze back at her, something that only slips out occasionally when she’s really upset. minju’s always been weak for them.
“j-just…” minju breathes in heavily. “just… do me a favour, alright? please don’t get yourself hurt.”
yuri’s lips press together in understanding. she pulls minju in closer, wrapping her arms around her back and hugging tighter than she’d ever held minju before. minju swears she feels something warm and wet land on the back of her shirt.
“thank you,” yuri whispers, gripping her even tighter. “thank you for everything.”
minju wishes this could last forever. yuri holding her like she doesn’t ever want to let go.
she pulls away, and the moment is over.
“s-see you later, min,” yuri says, but it comes out more like a question.
minju watches as yuri walks out the door.
-
minju wakes up in the middle of the night when the front door slams shut.
for a while, she lays in bed, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling.
all that stops when she hears the faintest trace of a sob from outside.
her grogginess is gone.
minju throws her blankets off of herself, not even looking when they land on a heap on the other side of the bed. she’s already on her feet, throwing the door to her room open and rushing to where yuri is.
yuri’s lying broken in the entry hall, huddled in on herself as her body wracks with sobs. there’s hair falling over her eyes and tears running onto the ground but neither of them could care less.
minju doesn’t say anything. she doesn’t have to.
she hooks her arms under yuri’s, trying to get her anywhere that isn’t the middle of a cramped, dusty corridor. yuri doesn’t budge, sobbing harder into minju’s lap. every little noise she makes tears harder at minju’s heart, her own eyes blurring with water.
minju tries yet again to lift yuri, and this time she moves, sitting on her knees and throwing her arms around minju’s waist. yuri buries her face into minju’s shirt, shaking violently, and all minju can do is hold her tight.
“i-i-i’m s-s-s-sorry,” yuri blubbers, voice thick and raspy. “m-minju, i’m so-sorry. i couldn’t… c-couldn’t do w-what you asked…”
minju hugs her tighter, rubbing her back softly. “it’s fine, yuri. you’re fine.”
“i’m s-s-so stupid,” yuri cries. minju’s shirt is wet with tears now, soaking her front and dripping into her lap. gone is the girl who thinks too much; the girl who knows exactly how to keep everyone around her teetering on the edge of control; the girl who says too much and too little at the same time. the girl in minju’s arms is just a scared little girl made of glass.
minju gently cups yuri’s cheek, lifting her head so that they’re looking at each other. she’s so small like this, eyes swollen and red, snot and tears running down her face.
“you’re okay,” minju smiles, voice quivering. the tears break free from her, too, and the smaller girl buries her face into her neck. she holds yuri close, tighter than she’s ever held her before, terrified of the thought of letting go. it only makes yuri sob harder, coming undone in her arms.
“y-you can’t keep doing that,” yuri says. “y-y-you can’t k-keep being so nice to me.”
she’s pulled away from minju’s neck now, faces inches apart. minju can feel her warm, trembling breath on her skin, yuri’s touch lingering on her skin, holding her weakly. “you c-can’t.”
minju laughs bitterly, salt on her tongue. “bit late for that, don’t you think?”
minju knows this can’t last. she knows that when the smoke clears, she’ll be alone again, and yuri will have moved on. she knows that she needs to break away, to run far, far, away from yuri before she can be played the same way yuri was.
but for now, she feels the trembling, scared, girl under her hands, and in that moment that is enough.
yuri presses her lips to minju’s, and in that moment that is enough.
the kiss isn’t soft, it’s not loving. it’s angry, hurt, broken, pushing deeper, harder, at every opportunity. yuri’s hand on her shoulder grips harder at the delicate skin underneath, the crescents of her nails digging hard into soft, delicate skin. her other hand cups the back of minju’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer. minju lets her hands roam the girl underneath her, touch ghosting over yuri’s skin of glass.
“i love you,” minju whispers when they break away, caressing yuri’s cheek with her thumb. “i love you, so fucking much.”
too much.
yuri nods, eyes shutting. “i know,” she murmurs, “and i’m sorry.”
“don’t,” minju tells her. she doesn’t want to hear it; doesn’t want to think about the fact that yuri will be gone in the morning.
“i really am, min. you said you wouldn’t ever leave, but you need to let go of me.”
“i won’t,” minju growls. “i won’t fucking leave.”
i can’t.
she presses her lips to yuri’s again, full of desire.
they’re broken. they’re angry. all of this is wrong.
but in that moment, it is enough.
-
(when minju wakes up the next day, she’s lying on the couch with bruised lips.)
(she doesn’t need to look to know that yuri is gone. packed up her stuff and left minju in the dust just like that.)
(she checks yuri’s room anyway, just to make sure.)
(minju doesn’t know what she expected.)
-
she goes about her life as normally as she can after that.
it’s much quieter now. there’s no one to watch bad rom-coms with after work; no one to look through minju’s designs when she’s done with them; no one to come home dead drunk and kiss her goodnight.
she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss yuri.
because as much as minju hated it – hated the ghosting touches, the grey area between love and indifference, the fact that she was being toyed with – yuri had given her that adrenaline high she wanted.
the adrenaline high hadn’t lasted. it had fizzled out and ended just like that.
minju would be lying if she said she didn’t miss yuri, because even in her absence she knew how to keep minju teetering on the edge of want and content.