anything could have transpired in that frame, anything could have gone hopelessly wrong, a tragic rehash of her last few semesters, and yet the one thing she could have never predicted in all her stress-induced dreams as a broke college student—is her life mostly falling into place. professionally, socially, and with jung, too. marriage had never been a part of her five-year plan, not even her six- or seven-year one, but with each passing day he'd steal a deeper pocket for himself in her heart and her home. with every birthday and anniversary, every anchoring touch of his hand fitting into her own, a wedding had eventually become a matter of when, rather than if.
and when it finally came, it'd felt right. a steady culmination of different decisions made by different people. a series of moments colliding into each other, sending all of them hurtling into the next moment, folding unto one another like a long line of dominoes. ahyoung and joon's last second breakup at the airport, receiving her promotion, slaving over guest lists and invitations and catering changes, walking down the aisle, finally saying i do, bora catching her bouquet, and herself turning around, seeing nearly everyone who'd supported her there, heady with excitement (not to mention, liquor) for what'd mark a new chapter for her.
flip a few pages ahead. three more years have passed. other wedding ceremonies to attend, ahyoung and joon getting back together, her parents opening up a second location for their restaurant, jung growing more and more involved with his father's business, the world continuing to spin on its axis, round and round and round...
one day, when she's waiting outside the apartment for jung to pick her up to visit euntaek and bora's newborn daughter, seol sorts through her mail. nothing out of the ordinary there, she's really only killing time, barely paying anything a second glance. she shuffles through both the non-essentials (surveys, a few credit card offers) and essentials (a postcard from jooyong and t.a. heo, some bills), tucking everything under her arm in the end, until she finally reaches the last of the pile. a single lightweight envelope with no return address.
inside, there are two piano recital tickets. no note, no explanation. that in itself isn't too strange, though; jung's popular enough among his colleagues and business partners to receive gifts out of the blue every once in awhile. seol's prepared to write it off as much of the same, but a quick scan of the event details has her mind racing, her world tilting, in a way that it hasn't since those lost, quixotic years as a university student.
showrunner: baek inho. two weeks from now.
suddenly, there's a honk, and she starts, whipping around with such force, her braid smacks her in the face. it's jung, who, even through the tint of the windshield, looks more amused than he has any right to be, not even bothering to conceal the grin on his face. his fingers lift a little from the steering wheel in a kind of halfhearted wave. time to go, it means.
it's a little embarrassing how visibly distracted seol is throughout, not that either euntaek and bora notice, which is good. they should be euphoric and gushy new parents who can't stop cooing over their newborn every ten seconds. the baby's cute, she thinks... but then the uninvited thought that follows is: if inho had been there, he would have called her as wrinkly as a rag, or a pug, or... or something like that. the inho she knew, anyway. they haven't spoken, haven't texted, haven't exchanged so much as a letter since that night in front of her family's restaurant. he hadn't even showed up to her wedding. did he even know? she's long suspected that he and inha still kept in contact somehow, just a little, so it wouldn't surprise her if that's how he got their address—
the moment she walks through the door frame, jung gently slips his hand into hers and tugs, just firmly enough to keep her from walking too far out from his reach. then, without any kind of preamble, he asks what's been on her mind.
she half-expects his expression to darken when she tells him, for his mouth to set into a thin frown, like it would back then. however, all he does is grow quiet, contemplative almost, a hand rubbing along the line of his jaw as he casts his gaze at a distant point, away from her. is this what you really want?]
[jung had agreed to attend with her, but as soon as the swell of the final note reverberated clear across the entirety of the concert hall, he'd stood without clapping along with the others giving inho a standing ovation, leaned over to tell her he'd spotted an old friend of his father's and that he'd meet her outside, then left. maybe she should have tried harder to convince him to stay, fallen back into her usual role of mediating all their bad blood. if they were as young as they used to be, she might have.
they're not, though. and that's how she winds up hovering by herself, just off to the side of the stage, holding a delicate bouquet of red carnations in her arms. most of the casual attendees have cleared out, leaving what she can only presume are close friends of his, organizers of the program, and connections within the industry.]
I knew he was getting big, but... [just how long exactly are they going to crowd around him?
she adjusts her cradle of the bouquet for what must be the third time now; the longer she stands there feeling silly, the heavier they feel. it'd be easier if she could just plow her way through to him, but it's not exactly her place to, is it? her lips purse as she squints down at the flowers, the gears in her head turning, trying to come to a decision.
how long has it been? ten minutes? fifteen? she could probably flag someone down, request that they deliver the flowers to inho in her stead.
...but the thing is, she doesn't want to. even if he's forgotten her face, seol still wants to tell him congratulations on her own, in-person. it's been six years already, so what's another few minutes? steeled for the continued wait, she ventures closer. plants herself squarely on the outskirts. g...ood enough.]
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windfall2020-04-01 01:00 am
JUST THE SETUP don't reply
anything could have transpired in that frame, anything could have gone hopelessly wrong, a tragic rehash of her last few semesters, and yet the one thing she could have never predicted in all her stress-induced dreams as a broke college student—is her life mostly falling into place. professionally, socially, and with jung, too. marriage had never been a part of her five-year plan, not even her six- or seven-year one, but with each passing day he'd steal a deeper pocket for himself in her heart and her home. with every birthday and anniversary, every anchoring touch of his hand fitting into her own, a wedding had eventually become a matter of when, rather than if.
and when it finally came, it'd felt right. a steady culmination of different decisions made by different people. a series of moments colliding into each other, sending all of them hurtling into the next moment, folding unto one another like a long line of dominoes. ahyoung and joon's last second breakup at the airport, receiving her promotion, slaving over guest lists and invitations and catering changes, walking down the aisle, finally saying i do, bora catching her bouquet, and herself turning around, seeing nearly everyone who'd supported her there, heady with excitement (not to mention, liquor) for what'd mark a new chapter for her.
flip a few pages ahead. three more years have passed. other wedding ceremonies to attend, ahyoung and joon getting back together, her parents opening up a second location for their restaurant, jung growing more and more involved with his father's business, the world continuing to spin on its axis, round and round and round...
one day, when she's waiting outside the apartment for jung to pick her up to visit euntaek and bora's newborn daughter, seol sorts through her mail. nothing out of the ordinary there, she's really only killing time, barely paying anything a second glance. she shuffles through both the non-essentials (surveys, a few credit card offers) and essentials (a postcard from jooyong and t.a. heo, some bills), tucking everything under her arm in the end, until she finally reaches the last of the pile. a single lightweight envelope with no return address.
inside, there are two piano recital tickets. no note, no explanation. that in itself isn't too strange, though; jung's popular enough among his colleagues and business partners to receive gifts out of the blue every once in awhile. seol's prepared to write it off as much of the same, but a quick scan of the event details has her mind racing, her world tilting, in a way that it hasn't since those lost, quixotic years as a university student.
showrunner: baek inho. two weeks from now.
suddenly, there's a honk, and she starts, whipping around with such force, her braid smacks her in the face. it's jung, who, even through the tint of the windshield, looks more amused than he has any right to be, not even bothering to conceal the grin on his face. his fingers lift a little from the steering wheel in a kind of halfhearted wave. time to go, it means.
it's a little embarrassing how visibly distracted seol is throughout, not that either euntaek and bora notice, which is good. they should be euphoric and gushy new parents who can't stop cooing over their newborn every ten seconds. the baby's cute, she thinks... but then the uninvited thought that follows is: if inho had been there, he would have called her as wrinkly as a rag, or a pug, or... or something like that. the inho she knew, anyway. they haven't spoken, haven't texted, haven't exchanged so much as a letter since that night in front of her family's restaurant. he hadn't even showed up to her wedding. did he even know? she's long suspected that he and inha still kept in contact somehow, just a little, so it wouldn't surprise her if that's how he got their address—
the moment she walks through the door frame, jung gently slips his hand into hers and tugs, just firmly enough to keep her from walking too far out from his reach. then, without any kind of preamble, he asks what's been on her mind.
she half-expects his expression to darken when she tells him, for his mouth to set into a thin frown, like it would back then. however, all he does is grow quiet, contemplative almost, a hand rubbing along the line of his jaw as he casts his gaze at a distant point, away from her. is this what you really want?]
no subject
they're not, though. and that's how she winds up hovering by herself, just off to the side of the stage, holding a delicate bouquet of red carnations in her arms. most of the casual attendees have cleared out, leaving what she can only presume are close friends of his, organizers of the program, and connections within the industry.]
I knew he was getting big, but... [just how long exactly are they going to crowd around him?
she adjusts her cradle of the bouquet for what must be the third time now; the longer she stands there feeling silly, the heavier they feel. it'd be easier if she could just plow her way through to him, but it's not exactly her place to, is it? her lips purse as she squints down at the flowers, the gears in her head turning, trying to come to a decision.
how long has it been? ten minutes? fifteen? she could probably flag someone down, request that they deliver the flowers to inho in her stead.
...but the thing is, she doesn't want to. even if he's forgotten her face, seol still wants to tell him congratulations on her own, in-person. it's been six years already, so what's another few minutes? steeled for the continued wait, she ventures closer. plants herself squarely on the outskirts. g...ood enough.]
bye
come baCK!!