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?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
overanalyze) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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?]