somewhere only we know [1/3]
940 w, pg-13 (jooyeon/g.o)
a never ending series of marvelous misadventures.
They used to play hide and seek.
Byunghee would be the one to insist that they play; he liked going on a hunt. Reluctantly, since Jooyeon had no other seven year old girls to play dolls with, she would nod her head and scramble off the floor. She was lighter on her feet back then, her laces not so bricked down with work and responsibilities. A whispered "come find me," didn't mean much - and they were happier back then, maybe, with drama over the twenty four box of crayons and not so much about the twenty four scandals and skeletons brushed under the carpet. Happier, that is the word they both used to describe growing up - well, if happier meant broad smiles with a missing tooth, ice cream and oreos, holding hands and not knowing what it really meant - then yes, happier is the correct word to describe it.
Nevertheless, they used to play hide and seek. Most of the time, Byunghee would be amazed at the tiny spaces she could fit into. He would find her eating her knees in a cupboard, sometimes hanging from a tree with spider limbs and hair hanging down like a web. She'd hide, and he'd find her - and they'd laugh because it's what seven years old did when they were happy. Then he would hold her hand, sometimes scratched up from hanging onto tree bark too long, and demand his prize. She'd giggle because back then it wasn't a big deal - and she kissed him right on the corner of his mouth, because as a kid, it was like some secret button that only made him smile like an idiot. Who doesn't want to see a boy smile like an idiot?
And then they grew up, like all people do. Once upon a time, Jooyeon used pray that adulthood didn't mean amnesia. Sadly, it did.
Jooyeon strips herself down to sweatpants and an over sized shirt. it's her favorite kind of shirt because when she sits down on the couch she pulls it over her knees, and she knows she will be alright. Her nails dig into the hem of the white fabric, her eyes fluttering open and close due to fatigue and the bright colors emanating from the screen. Something about the way all the shades blur together only proves that she's quite jaded, just as Lizzy is too, considering she's sprawled out on the floor of the living room.
The maknae has her eyes shut, as if her heavy lids were just too heavy, and opening them would break flesh.
Kahi saunters in, and she does that hair flip thing that only she can do, and she stares.
Jooyeon laughs, Kahi doesn't know what's so funny, and Lizzy snores.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm tired."
"Not as tired as that, are you?" Kahi points to Lizzy on the ground.
Jooyeon shakes her head in a no and they both smile.
Smiling turns into laughing, and it isn't the real kind, but the, 'wow, i'm so fucking delusional' kind.
It hurts.
She wonders how seventeen summers just flushed by like passing gravel on a moving train. Jooyeon wonders why all the moments she remembers are merely sixty second sunsets and sweaty palms. There are a lot of dreams that she dug up and buried, buried well, and now she was just another face in another idol group in another industry that didn't really give a fuck about her. It's not true what the say, about fame, she thinks to herself constantly. But Jooyeon never says it aloud, because she thinks she's the only one who probably doesn't appreciate it anyways. Besides, she's the visual. She has to look happy, twenty-four year old happy, not seven year old happy. Her fingers crawl around for her phone, gripping almost violently once she locates it. She scrolls down names that she doesn't remember, and texts she probably sent drunk, and she stops on a name.
Jung Byunghee.
She throws her phone aside after that.
"I think I'm going to run away,"
The way she says it is too easy, as if she isn't really going to do it. But the catch is, she really is, and she tells him because she knows he won't try and stop her. Byunghee blinks, or G.O, formerly known as Byunghee, and Jooyeon smiles. In his seat, Byunghee stirs under her gazr. It's too pleasant, he mutters inwardly to himself. No one says they're going to run away and then smile, unless you're crazy. It's quiet for a minute or six after that. Byunghee wonders what entailed if she were to run away - the outbursts of scandalous theories of the future predicament. He can already tell it's a bad idea, and then he realizes that, "You're twenty four now. I don't think it'd be considered running away."
Jooyeon's smile fades like washable marker, her brows furrowing to meet in the middle. It's disappointing, how quickly he has to shut her down.
"Don't be stupid," he adds.
"You're being mean."
"I'm being realistic."
Jooyeon makes a pause, her eyes flickering over to catch his gaze.
"Byunghee," her tone is low and she tilts her head.
"Remember when we used to play hide and seek when we were kids?" Jooyeon asks.
He nods his head, "Of course."
She blinks a few times after that, wondering if the faint trace of a smile on his lips from years ago is actually there, and it is. For a moment she feels like a ghost, someone who isn't really there, and Jooyeon shuffles to her feet.
"Well, come find me."