Round 6: Jezebel
Title: Jezebel
Team: Future
Rating: NC-17 (Language and sexual suggestions)
Fandom: f(x)
Pairing/Focus: Sulli
Summary: She swears she’s having a migraine, and it’s definitely not the alcohol.
Prompt Used: SHINee - Lucifer
She swears she’s having a migraine, and it’s definitely not the alcohol.
Maybe it’s the loud-to-the-point-of-annoying music, maybe it’s the bright flashing lights in the underground club, maybe it’s the looks she’s getting from hundreds of perverted old Caucasian men around her who don’t even know that she’s actually an idol.
Or maybe it’s the fact that Kibum and Amber are dry humping each other on the dance floor.
Just a few weeks ago, Jinri had honestly thought that Kibum was really gay. Hell, she was practically waiting for him to come out of the closet with a boyfriend or something, ever since he went into his mild depression after disbanding with the other seniors (okay, so everyone knew it wasn’t actually depression, but when Key loses the will to talk, something’s seriously not right).
She knows she’s definitely wrong when she sees the fingers of his right hand curl around Amber’s sharp hip bone, pulling the girl’s crotch flat against his. She notices how her unni’s head tilts back when Kibum’s other hand slides under her shirt to caress her back, and Jinri swears that a familiar-sounding moan can be heard over the pulsing bass.
Yup, it more or less clears her other suspicions of Amber being a lesbian too.
The fruity martini burns down her throat, but she can’t even stop herself from calling another shot over. The bartender raises an eyebrow at her, as if questioning her alcohol tolerance, but complies anyway. Fine, so Jinri hasn’t really been drinking long considering f(x) has only broken up for two weeks and soju wasn’t allowed before that, but at the age of twenty-one, she can handle herself perfectly fine.
A few seats away, she sees Krystal breaking away from stroking a long manicured nail down Jinki’s chest, and the lust in the man’s eyes doesn’t go unseen - at this point, Jinri doesn’t know whether to tell herself that Jinki’s only like that because he’s too drunk or that he’s perfectly sober (though she knows for a fact that he can, contrary to popular belief, down five beers at one go and still dance Ring Ding Dong properly).
And as the slightly younger girl approaches her, she takes a sip of her cocktail, waiting for the burning sensation to return once more. The sear in her mouth starts to feel rather pleasant, and Krystal smirks at her, twirling her own wine glass in her hand.
“Enjoying yourself?” Jinri laughs lightly at the easy flow of English from the other girl’s mouth.
“I’m still wondering how the hell we ended up in California,” and it’s the truth, because she never viewed herself as the kind to sit in an American bar at midnight, drinking with her ex-group mates.
In return, Krystal only inclines her head towards the dance floor, directing Jinri to the Taiwanese-American and questionably-American Korean heavily making out amongst the other groups of obscenely dancing adults.
She’s right - it was Amber’s idea for the bunch of them to escape to the OC for a bit, and some of the old workmates had tagged along. Jessica and Tiffany had dragged Yunho to god-knows-where the moment they hit the bar, leaving Jinki, Kibum and the three girls up front with the drinks. Jinri notices a random pair of gays biting at each others’ necks at a spot not far from Amber, and somehow thinks it’s a pity that one certain senior didn’t come with them.
“Would have been great if Minho was here, don’t you think?” She teases Krystal because she knows she still kinda-not-really-but-really likes him, and the shorter girl rolls her eyes, not without smiling.
“Trust me, the bastard would have come if he hadn’t broken his toes,” the mirth in her eyes is evident, and Jinri laughs too, but she isn’t sure if it’s because of Krystal or because of her sadomasochistic self. “Don’t think he’d be carrying on with the hyung-whoring though.”
Jinri wolf-whistles a little and gets nudged in the ribs, but it doesn’t matter anyway. “How would you know?”
Krystal leans in a bit, “To be honest, we fucked before. The boy’s not bad.” She winks as if it’s a conspiracy, and Jinri can’t help but be a bit amused, and even impressed. So apparently, Minho wasn’t gay either.
“Looks like the virginal maknae ain’t such a good girl.”
“Oh, trust me, honey. I’m not the real virginal maknae.”
Jinri rolls her eyes and curses under her breath, because shit, she really is a virgin. And for a while, she thought everyone else was too, until the USA of course.
Krystal closes in some more to wrap her arms around Jinri’s waist and place her chin on the older ones shoulder. It’s perfectly normal for the touchy-feely behaviour, and Jinri lets her free arm pull Krystal nearer. She sighs, and remembers how all five of them were once so close, but flew so far apart the moment breaking up was official.
Jinri feels something hot and wet in her ear, and she knows that Krystal’s not one bit drunk. Her eyes widen, and she doesn’t exactly know what to do when her best friend seems like she’s suddenly turned homo.
“No, I’m not a lesbian,” says the other, reading her mind perfectly. “Just saying, you gotta let yourself go sometimes.” And with that, Jinri loses the touch and warmth of another person’s arms as the younger woman slinks away.
She’s a little dazed, though she tries to tell herself that it just might be the alcohol. And then she feels the weight of someone against the counter next to her once more, as the beats on the dance floor get heavier and heavier.
“Looks like you’re adjusting fine.”
Jinri smiles at Amber’s warm words, unusually lacking her characteristic sarcasm. “You kidding me? I feel like I’m drinking urea.”
Amber shakes her head with a smirk as a drink slides over to her, and Jinri guesses it’s from Kibum on the other side of the bar, his feline eyes perfectly visible in the dark and fixated on the tomboyish-but-not-so-much-now girl.
“Idiot,” and Jinri knows she’s right when Amber mutters out something about him picking out a gay strawberry mix.
“I don’t get his point of sending you that when you guys were obviously real cosy just now,” Jinri remarks casually, but ends up getting flicked in the middle of her forehead.
“You,” says Amber with a mild slur in her voice, “really need to start learning the rules of the game.”
“This game being…?”
“He wants to get some. And I want some too, but I can’t tell him that.” Jinri raises her eyebrows at Amber’s smile, and sharpens her hearing for what seems like a free briefing on flirtation.
“Guys are all the same, they just want to get in your pants, baby,” Amber speaks as if she has experience, and Jinri sees Kibum standing up from his seat a few metres away, “But it’s the ones who go the extra mile that really like you. They want you.”
Jinri nods her head and listens like the student she never was. “What makes the game fun is that the girl has to make the guy take the first step. Gotta play it hard to-”
Amber’s words turn into a moan, and Jinri nearly jumps out of her panties. Within seconds, Kibum has his chest pressed against the older girl’s back, lips sucking on her neck from behind as a hand snakes around to rub at her abdomen, another hand supporting his weight on the bar top.
Jinri realises he probably doesn’t give a damn that she’s looking at him molesting Amber in front of a hundred other people. Just before he gets the opportunity to whisk the American away, said American breaks off from him to whisper in Jinri’s ear.
“You gotta learn one thing, Jinri-baby.” The younger girl tries her best to focus her gaze on Amber’s face, and not the man’s lust-filled eyes.
“Lucifer wasn’t born. He was created.”
And she reckons that Kibum’s dragging her unni off to some backroom. Jinri’s head spins and spins because the night’s passing by way too fast, and yet, she’s enjoying it too much for her own liking.
To be honest, she doesn’t even know when the glass in her hand turned empty either.
-
The relationship between non-sugar-free coffee and shrieking has become synonymous with the name of Choi Sulli. In fact, the general public had already come to the consensus that Sulli’s previous personal assistant was lucky enough to have come out of working for her alive, especially after giving her too much glucose in her morning drink. It’s odd, though, how Jinri actually isn’t that put off by the fact that she’s dubbed as hell in heels because jeez, she gets so much attention.
And besides, with the pleasure of watching everyone doing anything they can to please her, who wouldn’t wanna be a diva?
So when she screams in horror at the lack of make-up on her face while waiting for the artists to come to work, it’s really quite amusing to see the PDs running around like a bunch of ants, terrorised and looking as if they’d encountered death in the face.
Tch, death isn’t even as good-looking, she bets.
Jinri’s dressing room is pretty though, and her shoes clack against the parquet of the filming studios as she walks towards it. People in the hallway are blatantly avoiding her, and some giving her ninety-degree bows. Ha.
She shuts the door and makes sure that no one else is in the room, before snatching the inconspicuous flask on the table dubbed as “Sulli’s Health Mix”. But no, it burns down her throat and she knows that the soju’s better than water because it calms her, fuck it makes her level-headed enough to screw everyone who doesn’t cooperate.
The door opens, and Jinri rolls her eyes. There’s only one person bold enough to do that.
“Yah, Jinri, get your ass back on set.”
She turns around to be met with the rather patronising face of Kim Heechul. “Oh don’t worry, oppa. I will, after the productions team gets all their butts to work first.”
Heechul sighs as she folds her arms. “Listen, they’re caught up at some other shoot alright? It’s Lee Minho. They’ll be here soon.” He walks, or trudges, towards her and tugs her out of the vicinity. “Oh, and wear this.”
At least Heechul has a considerable amount of style, Jinri thinks, as she puts on the jacket that the wardrobe manager gives her. He’s doing admittedly well in his second career with the fashion scene anyway, since nearly all of Korea wants to wear clothes designed and recommended by the former Super Junior member who walks with a limp 24/7.
“You know, Jinri-ah, maybe you should try to be a little more patient with the workers. I know it sound like shit coming from my pretty mouth and everything,” he notices her raised questioning eyebrow at the obvious hypocrisy, “But don’t take it too far.”
“Have we not had this conversation before, oppa? I’ve said it before-”
“They get paid, I get paid, everyone gets paid, everyone’s happy.” Jinri’s lips twitch a little at Heechul’s familiarity with her words, mildly bemused at the fact that her sunbae actually remembers what she’s said.
But, in essence, Jinri really doesn’t pay attention to the older man at all, and that’s probably the reason why she nearly rips Uee’s head off in the middle of filming a scene.
“Geez, why do you keep messing up your line?”
“Look, I just came from another schedule, it was a huge rush and-”
“Are you trying to say you’re a better actress than me, person-who-has-more-job-offers?”
“What are you talking about, I didn’t even-”
“Huh, at least I’m not a stupid little bit-”
Heechul’s hand clamps down over Jinri’s mouth as she flails wildly, the other slightly older girl’s eyes filled with an emotion along the lines of complete outrage. The camera crew freezes, the calafare stop rehearsing their background acting and everyone knows what Jinri would have said if the senior hadn’t acted quickly enough.
Seriously speaking though, Jinri couldn’t give a shit about anyone else. For god’s sake, she was in the title role of the drama (and it was about a spoilt brat, but that’s beside the point here), why would they focus on a supporting character like the waitress-cum-boyfriend’s-ex-lover when they had plenty of her? She was Choi Sulli - so pretty, so beautiful.
Perfect.
Heechul ends up dragging her roughly (Jinri really doesn’t like to think of it as manhandling) back to her room, pushing her inside as his frown deepens drastically, and she swears she can see the faint wrinkles on his forehead as his eyebrows furrow. Huh, looks like the Botox and plastic never really worked too well for his face anyway.
The door slams and Heechul leans against it way too casually for his own good. Jinri knows what’s going to follow, but for some odd reason, she doesn’t give two hoots.
“What have I told you about being polite to your fellow actors?” Heechul’s tone is somewhere caught between being filled with disappointment and brimming with irritation, so Jinri just rolls her eyes because honestly, everyone’s over-reacting. She only resorts to shouting back at him when the man knocks away the flask that she’s about to bring to her lips.
“Yah, oppa! What are you thinking? That’s my-”
“Alcohol.”
She pauses for a moment, and then curses.
“Everyone knows the rumours, Jinri. Especially after that cab-driver supposedly drove a drunken Choi Sulli lookalike back home last month. Jeez, you don’t even know how much we had to pay him just so he’d keep mum and claim that the woman he ferried wasn’t you. Can’t you even be more careful?”
Jinri mutters something about Heechul being way too anal, except she’s not quite sure what comes out of her mouth because her head is buzzing and the air’s way too thick and gods, why does she keep thinking of fruits and liquor and flashing lights?
She chooses the perfect moment to snap out of her reverie for a second, and just about snaps like a dry twig at the older man’s words.
“… don’t know what you’re becoming, Jinri. One day you’re gonna get out of control completely. I’m not your dad or your mom or your brother, but-”
“Then just shut the hell up.”
Both of them notice the lack of formalities in her language. Heechul sighs, Jinri looks away.
-
It’s more than a well-established fact that Sulli’s on a hiatus after years of non-stop work.
Or rather, SM Entertainment’s having more fun overworking some sixteen-year-old that just debuted.
“No one’ll want you anymore once you hit your mid-twenties,” she remembers Heechul telling her rather jokingly once. But fuck, she realises that he’s right.
So she has to do something instead of lazing around like the company leaves her to. Jinri needs a job, she needs the money so bad even though her bank account’s not too dismal itself (save the cash for more rainy days, yeah?) so what better place to work than at a bar?
None of the girls there fidget in their crop tops and micro-skirts while they serve all the perverted men (and women) drinks, so Jinri figures she just has to suck all the shit up as well. It gets her fair cash, it gets her offers of free drinks whether they’re spiked or not (which she all regretfully rejects), it gets her the stares of others when she passes them by with their share of alcohol.
“You’re beautiful, my dear. You remind me of Choi Sulli,” one older man remarks with a raised eyebrow as he gently holds the beer in his hand, and Jinri senses that he’s one of the few men who don’t actually patronise the place for a good look at women.
So she smiles coyly and bows, because no member of public has ever seen the older Choi Sulli in person without makeup. “Thank you sir, I appreciate that.”
He chuckles a little loudly, but not loud enough to make the other patrons turn their heads (not that they could if they wanted to anyway, since some of Jinri’s colleagues were busy giving out lap dances). “It’s true, young lady. I find it strange how a girl like you ended up with a job here.” The older man disapproving glances over her shoulder, obviously not entertained by the other girls’ flirting with customers behind her.
Deep down inside, Jinri wonders why the heck she’s there too.
Apparently, her thinking has never been too complex because she doesn’t even have time to properly come up with an answer, before her bartender-slash-boss is calling her back to the bar.
“Yah, Jinshil,” she cringes at his easy use of her pseudonym, “hand this martini to the guy at table 41.” And she’s off again, because work means work and no messing around.
Unless, of course, friends get mixed into the job.
At first, she thinks she’s just seeing things, but that dark blue cap with silver patterns on his head is way too familiar for her liking.
And when he looks up, she wishes she hadn’t met his eyes. They’re dark and open wide and worst of all, unsurprised.
“Thanks for the drink, Jinri-ah.”
His voice is smooth and it hasn’t changed one bit, despite him having obviously developed from a puny kid to a completely desirable man in about ten years.
“You’re welcome, Taemin-ssi.”
She should really get going, Jinri tells herself, but Taemin only grabs her forearm tight as he brings the glass to his lips. “Delicious.” A shiver runs down her spine.
She actually spares a thought or two regarding Taemin’s visit - was he a regular; had he known she was there before he came? Jinri sits herself on the high stool opposite him as one of his hands continues pouring the beer through his lips, while the other’s fingers trace invisible lines up and down her wrist.
“So this is your hiatus.” It’s so clear, that mockery in his voice and Jinri really can’t stand it. Then again, since when could she ever stand fake aegyo and blatant sarcasm put together?
“Yeah, yeah. Think what you want, I wanted to come here.” And she’s nearly intelligent enough to slip off the chair and carry on with work, but Taemin just has to call another drink over directly from the bartender. Jinri turns around and see’s her boss wave her away with a smile, though she knows it just means a pay cut.
But nevertheless, he’s still her senior. So really, it’s only polite and right that she accepts his drink, despite Heechul’s forced ban of alcohol (oh, the irony of her occupation).
And once she starts, she doesn’t stop.
She doesn’t even stop when one of her fellow servers calls her over to help attend to the new crowd of men, just mumbles something like “shut the hell up” and continues drinking, continues ignoring Taemin’s strangely aggravating gaze.
It’s so stupid, the look of complacency on his face as he watches her bring herself down again, down in drinks and alcohol and flashing lights. So this is what she gets after years of having to linger in his shadow as a junior? How appropriate. Well, he must be having a damn large amount of fun watching the real her - watching her break down after once accusing her of being “another high and mighty bitch”.
It’s so obvious that he’s purposely staring her down, intentionally taunting her with his eyes that were always prettier than hers. And she knows she’s right when he completely flips off a crazy girl visitor who palms his crotch flat out, and instead he flicks his eyes back to poor, weak Jinri.
Jinri wants to curse, wants to say a harsh “Fuck off” but the words come out slurred, and for once she doesn’t know who they’re directed at. The lights make her head spin and turn and flip but the stupid man opposite her is still staring, eyes darker than ever as the strokes on her wrist become harder, surer, longer-lingering.
And she lets him. She lets him torture her with his scorning looks, lips quivering as the alcohol misses her mouth and drips down her chin, leaks down her neck into her cleavage.
Jinri doesn’t even care anymore about how or why he got there in the first place. No, she lets him pull her out of the club and into the back seat of a red Lamborghini, presumably his. Taemin seems like a gentleman but he’s definitely not - he’s rough and dominating and Jinri experiences it first hand when he throws her face first into the seat, bites down on her neck and makes her strip. She knows what he wants, and knows he wants it done his way.
That’s why she protests to his groping of her ass, because he tells her to, tells her to resist. She thrashes and screams and her head nearly hits the closed door; but Taemin wants more, he dominates her, he coaxes the loud moans out of her, and she knows deep down that this is the fucking reality he’s always wanted.
He makes her bleed at the first entry, makes her cry as the tears slide down her face but the ecstasy runs through her veins. She forces herself to scream “no” but he screams “yes” and she wants to scream “yes” because he keeps hitting that spot, keeps making her feel so good and free and uncontrolled.
And Jinri thinks, for a fraction of a moment, that this is who she is.
She grabs at his hair and his hips and his everything and he gives it to her hard and fast and painful until he falls over the edge first. And seconds later, Jinri struggles to put her top back in place properly as he speeds off into the night, after shoving her out of the vehicle. She doesn’t even notice the faintest tinge of red on the back of her skirt. When she steps back into the underground, Jinri moves to pick her tray up and get back to work, because honestly, nothing happened between them at all.
And then, she finds the half a million won clenched tight in her fist.
It’s crisp money, cold hard cash. There’s the sound of light crunches heard as she straightens out each of the notes and has a good look and feel of the money. God, why does it feel so good?
Jinri figures she might have just sold her own body. The scary thing is that she’s fine with it.
-
It’s complete shit, everything.
First, he puts her in some psychiatrist’s office, then signs her up for alcoholics anonymous and makes her go for sex addiction counselling. But isn’t it obvious that nothing is wrong with her?
And who the hell does he think he is, her brother? Her father?
God?
The door opens and once again, he’s wearing that stupid black coat. It’s just so sickening, how he stands out against the white-washed walls of the room, like he’s proclaiming his presence as a gift from hell.
“How are you, Jinri?”
She looks out of the window. Her fingers play with the rims of her shirt sleeves. The cushioned chair she sits in suddenly seems a lot softer, as she lets herself sink back into it.
Heechul hums a tune as he removes his sunglasses and cap. He hums some song that she vaguely remembers had a meaning along the lines of “Whatever I want, whatever I wish, I’m new blood”.
Jinki snickers, As if you care about me, bastard.
Heechul sighs. She’s like an open book, readable and available for everyone to see, and she’s a horrible, very horrible actress.
So he just sits in a chair in another corner of the room, and takes out newspaper to read from his backpack. Her eyes suddenly leave their previous positions of admiring the outdoors, and snap towards the grey paper as he flips, flips, flips the sheets.
He watches her eyes move with his page-turning, and frowns. He knows what she sees. It’s yesterday’s news that she sees, old articles of blown-up scandals and crimes, columns of insults and libel and ridicule.
Of course, she sees herself.
Jinri’s eyes flash over and over and over again as the words play back in her head, clear and harsh and black. “Sulli - the alcoholic in make-up”, “Choi Sulli charged with violation of prostitution laws”, “Madness is the end of Sulli’s career”, “Famous actress taken into appropriate care by local authorities”, and all she can say to herself is fuck, fuck, fuck.
Her eyes don’t seem to get any wetter at that. There’re no more tears left. Jinri can’t seem to make her eyes leave the paper either, and she forgets for a moment that Heechul’s watching her every move.
He tucks the paper away, and looks at her.
“What have you become?”
No, he doesn’t ask it. But his eyes do. Every single time he visits.
“I don’t need your help.” Her voice is hoarse, she’s ruined it from all the protests and screams from years gone by. It used to be so much nicer. It used to be.
“You’re wrong,” he mutters while shaking his head. The movement is not unfamiliar.
“Then when am I right?” Her own heart hardens. “I never am, am I?”
He looks away, and she doesn’t have to ask again. His feet pad over to the shelf not far from her chair, and he places a small teddy bear next to five other plush toys displayed together. The bear’s eyes are round and bright, and Jinri wonders why they seem so familiar.
But Jinri doesn’t let her guard down, and before Heechul can leave through the door, “You think you’re helping me, fool. You’re not. I’m saner than you.”
He doesn’t hesitate at all before saying the next words, and Jinri sees the two dark ebony horns finally showing themselves on the back of his head. The devil, the devil!
“Have a good day, my dear,” is the deadpanned reply she gets. And she door shuts.
She looks between the doorknob, the new bear, and the calendar on her wall. Then she blinks.
Oh.
“Happy Christmas, Jinri,” she whispers.
Jinri laughs cheerfully for the first time in a long while as she runs away from her friends, while playing a Christmas game. They’re slightly older than her, but fun nonetheless, as they shout out her name, “Jinr-ssii! Jinri-ssi, where are you?” It’s a lovely game of chase and hide-and-seek combined into one, and how fun it is indeed!
She turns her head back and finds one of them flailing after her, running in a pair of black heels that would never get her far, and Jinri says, “Catch me if you can!” The running woman just shouts more, and Jinri is delighted.
Up and over, right and left, she finally finds the perfect hiding spot as she shuts the doors behind her. It’s an open space, and Jinri explores the area, delighted as she sees the beautiful view of the city below her.
The roof garden is such a pleasant little place, she thinks, as she flounces over to the railing. She places her weight on it lightly and looks up to the sky, seeing the stars against the blue-ish velvet night. So pretty, so beautiful.
Indeed, so perfect.
And then she’s attracted to one of the great twinkling balls, for in drops down in a beautiful streak, its path coloured gold at first, then fading into yellow, an odd shade of grey, and black as it covers space in the sky. What a lovely display, Jinri thinks.
She then realises, “A falling star!” Weren’t they the ones that flew?
Jinri’s always wanted to be a star. Shining in the night and looking down on the world around her, what could be better? Nothing. But she supposes that the prospects of becoming a star aren’t too dim yet, if she can try to fly.
So she tells herself she will.
It’s just one, two, three steps that will get her soaring above everything like a bird, a plane, a star. And she takes the one, two, three steps.
She giggles again as her feet leave the railing and the wind rushes against her ears from below. Her eyes sting a bit, but if this is what it takes to get to the top, then it would be okay go through the pain for a while.
After taking a glance below, she sees some tree branches and nearly screams - but no, beyond the braches there’s a light in the middle of darkness, it’s the star and she’s going to become like it, so she falls, falls, falls as her clothes billow in the wind.
The branches of the tall trees scratch her arms and face but it doesn’t matter. She feels the sting and a taste reminiscent of metal on her lips, but there’s just a bit more to tolerate, a little bit more…
It’s only then that she remembers what someone - she can’t remember who, but it was some woman who was really flexible - said to her. Something along the lines of, “Pain is good, it means you’re alive.”
She laughs. Of course she’s alive, she’s flying! What a joke.
Seconds later, the pain goes away.
-
It’s pretty shocking, the next morning, when it’s splayed all over the news that a dead body was found at the back of the mental health centre. No one’s made an escape before, it’s quite a first.
And so the police repeat themselves again and again, asking for people to identify the body. It’s female, but with a face scratched and seemingly slashed by sharp objects, and clothes bloodied to the point of being stained completely red. Limbs of pale white stick out from the scarlet smock that the corpse wears, and apparently, dogs seem to be attracted to take a lick at the wounds on the wrists.
No one comes to make a claim.
No one wants to.
How you have fallen from heaven
O morning star
Child of the dawn
(Isaiah 14:12a)
Poll Round 6: Jezebel
Team: Future
Rating: NC-17 (Language and sexual suggestions)
Fandom: f(x)
Pairing/Focus: Sulli
Summary: She swears she’s having a migraine, and it’s definitely not the alcohol.
Prompt Used: SHINee - Lucifer
She swears she’s having a migraine, and it’s definitely not the alcohol.
Maybe it’s the loud-to-the-point-of-annoying music, maybe it’s the bright flashing lights in the underground club, maybe it’s the looks she’s getting from hundreds of perverted old Caucasian men around her who don’t even know that she’s actually an idol.
Or maybe it’s the fact that Kibum and Amber are dry humping each other on the dance floor.
Just a few weeks ago, Jinri had honestly thought that Kibum was really gay. Hell, she was practically waiting for him to come out of the closet with a boyfriend or something, ever since he went into his mild depression after disbanding with the other seniors (okay, so everyone knew it wasn’t actually depression, but when Key loses the will to talk, something’s seriously not right).
She knows she’s definitely wrong when she sees the fingers of his right hand curl around Amber’s sharp hip bone, pulling the girl’s crotch flat against his. She notices how her unni’s head tilts back when Kibum’s other hand slides under her shirt to caress her back, and Jinri swears that a familiar-sounding moan can be heard over the pulsing bass.
Yup, it more or less clears her other suspicions of Amber being a lesbian too.
The fruity martini burns down her throat, but she can’t even stop herself from calling another shot over. The bartender raises an eyebrow at her, as if questioning her alcohol tolerance, but complies anyway. Fine, so Jinri hasn’t really been drinking long considering f(x) has only broken up for two weeks and soju wasn’t allowed before that, but at the age of twenty-one, she can handle herself perfectly fine.
A few seats away, she sees Krystal breaking away from stroking a long manicured nail down Jinki’s chest, and the lust in the man’s eyes doesn’t go unseen - at this point, Jinri doesn’t know whether to tell herself that Jinki’s only like that because he’s too drunk or that he’s perfectly sober (though she knows for a fact that he can, contrary to popular belief, down five beers at one go and still dance Ring Ding Dong properly).
And as the slightly younger girl approaches her, she takes a sip of her cocktail, waiting for the burning sensation to return once more. The sear in her mouth starts to feel rather pleasant, and Krystal smirks at her, twirling her own wine glass in her hand.
“Enjoying yourself?” Jinri laughs lightly at the easy flow of English from the other girl’s mouth.
“I’m still wondering how the hell we ended up in California,” and it’s the truth, because she never viewed herself as the kind to sit in an American bar at midnight, drinking with her ex-group mates.
In return, Krystal only inclines her head towards the dance floor, directing Jinri to the Taiwanese-American and questionably-American Korean heavily making out amongst the other groups of obscenely dancing adults.
She’s right - it was Amber’s idea for the bunch of them to escape to the OC for a bit, and some of the old workmates had tagged along. Jessica and Tiffany had dragged Yunho to god-knows-where the moment they hit the bar, leaving Jinki, Kibum and the three girls up front with the drinks. Jinri notices a random pair of gays biting at each others’ necks at a spot not far from Amber, and somehow thinks it’s a pity that one certain senior didn’t come with them.
“Would have been great if Minho was here, don’t you think?” She teases Krystal because she knows she still kinda-not-really-but-really likes him, and the shorter girl rolls her eyes, not without smiling.
“Trust me, the bastard would have come if he hadn’t broken his toes,” the mirth in her eyes is evident, and Jinri laughs too, but she isn’t sure if it’s because of Krystal or because of her sadomasochistic self. “Don’t think he’d be carrying on with the hyung-whoring though.”
Jinri wolf-whistles a little and gets nudged in the ribs, but it doesn’t matter anyway. “How would you know?”
Krystal leans in a bit, “To be honest, we fucked before. The boy’s not bad.” She winks as if it’s a conspiracy, and Jinri can’t help but be a bit amused, and even impressed. So apparently, Minho wasn’t gay either.
“Looks like the virginal maknae ain’t such a good girl.”
“Oh, trust me, honey. I’m not the real virginal maknae.”
Jinri rolls her eyes and curses under her breath, because shit, she really is a virgin. And for a while, she thought everyone else was too, until the USA of course.
Krystal closes in some more to wrap her arms around Jinri’s waist and place her chin on the older ones shoulder. It’s perfectly normal for the touchy-feely behaviour, and Jinri lets her free arm pull Krystal nearer. She sighs, and remembers how all five of them were once so close, but flew so far apart the moment breaking up was official.
Jinri feels something hot and wet in her ear, and she knows that Krystal’s not one bit drunk. Her eyes widen, and she doesn’t exactly know what to do when her best friend seems like she’s suddenly turned homo.
“No, I’m not a lesbian,” says the other, reading her mind perfectly. “Just saying, you gotta let yourself go sometimes.” And with that, Jinri loses the touch and warmth of another person’s arms as the younger woman slinks away.
She’s a little dazed, though she tries to tell herself that it just might be the alcohol. And then she feels the weight of someone against the counter next to her once more, as the beats on the dance floor get heavier and heavier.
“Looks like you’re adjusting fine.”
Jinri smiles at Amber’s warm words, unusually lacking her characteristic sarcasm. “You kidding me? I feel like I’m drinking urea.”
Amber shakes her head with a smirk as a drink slides over to her, and Jinri guesses it’s from Kibum on the other side of the bar, his feline eyes perfectly visible in the dark and fixated on the tomboyish-but-not-so-much-now girl.
“Idiot,” and Jinri knows she’s right when Amber mutters out something about him picking out a gay strawberry mix.
“I don’t get his point of sending you that when you guys were obviously real cosy just now,” Jinri remarks casually, but ends up getting flicked in the middle of her forehead.
“You,” says Amber with a mild slur in her voice, “really need to start learning the rules of the game.”
“This game being…?”
“He wants to get some. And I want some too, but I can’t tell him that.” Jinri raises her eyebrows at Amber’s smile, and sharpens her hearing for what seems like a free briefing on flirtation.
“Guys are all the same, they just want to get in your pants, baby,” Amber speaks as if she has experience, and Jinri sees Kibum standing up from his seat a few metres away, “But it’s the ones who go the extra mile that really like you. They want you.”
Jinri nods her head and listens like the student she never was. “What makes the game fun is that the girl has to make the guy take the first step. Gotta play it hard to-”
Amber’s words turn into a moan, and Jinri nearly jumps out of her panties. Within seconds, Kibum has his chest pressed against the older girl’s back, lips sucking on her neck from behind as a hand snakes around to rub at her abdomen, another hand supporting his weight on the bar top.
Jinri realises he probably doesn’t give a damn that she’s looking at him molesting Amber in front of a hundred other people. Just before he gets the opportunity to whisk the American away, said American breaks off from him to whisper in Jinri’s ear.
“You gotta learn one thing, Jinri-baby.” The younger girl tries her best to focus her gaze on Amber’s face, and not the man’s lust-filled eyes.
“Lucifer wasn’t born. He was created.”
And she reckons that Kibum’s dragging her unni off to some backroom. Jinri’s head spins and spins because the night’s passing by way too fast, and yet, she’s enjoying it too much for her own liking.
To be honest, she doesn’t even know when the glass in her hand turned empty either.
-
The relationship between non-sugar-free coffee and shrieking has become synonymous with the name of Choi Sulli. In fact, the general public had already come to the consensus that Sulli’s previous personal assistant was lucky enough to have come out of working for her alive, especially after giving her too much glucose in her morning drink. It’s odd, though, how Jinri actually isn’t that put off by the fact that she’s dubbed as hell in heels because jeez, she gets so much attention.
And besides, with the pleasure of watching everyone doing anything they can to please her, who wouldn’t wanna be a diva?
So when she screams in horror at the lack of make-up on her face while waiting for the artists to come to work, it’s really quite amusing to see the PDs running around like a bunch of ants, terrorised and looking as if they’d encountered death in the face.
Tch, death isn’t even as good-looking, she bets.
Jinri’s dressing room is pretty though, and her shoes clack against the parquet of the filming studios as she walks towards it. People in the hallway are blatantly avoiding her, and some giving her ninety-degree bows. Ha.
She shuts the door and makes sure that no one else is in the room, before snatching the inconspicuous flask on the table dubbed as “Sulli’s Health Mix”. But no, it burns down her throat and she knows that the soju’s better than water because it calms her, fuck it makes her level-headed enough to screw everyone who doesn’t cooperate.
The door opens, and Jinri rolls her eyes. There’s only one person bold enough to do that.
“Yah, Jinri, get your ass back on set.”
She turns around to be met with the rather patronising face of Kim Heechul. “Oh don’t worry, oppa. I will, after the productions team gets all their butts to work first.”
Heechul sighs as she folds her arms. “Listen, they’re caught up at some other shoot alright? It’s Lee Minho. They’ll be here soon.” He walks, or trudges, towards her and tugs her out of the vicinity. “Oh, and wear this.”
At least Heechul has a considerable amount of style, Jinri thinks, as she puts on the jacket that the wardrobe manager gives her. He’s doing admittedly well in his second career with the fashion scene anyway, since nearly all of Korea wants to wear clothes designed and recommended by the former Super Junior member who walks with a limp 24/7.
“You know, Jinri-ah, maybe you should try to be a little more patient with the workers. I know it sound like shit coming from my pretty mouth and everything,” he notices her raised questioning eyebrow at the obvious hypocrisy, “But don’t take it too far.”
“Have we not had this conversation before, oppa? I’ve said it before-”
“They get paid, I get paid, everyone gets paid, everyone’s happy.” Jinri’s lips twitch a little at Heechul’s familiarity with her words, mildly bemused at the fact that her sunbae actually remembers what she’s said.
But, in essence, Jinri really doesn’t pay attention to the older man at all, and that’s probably the reason why she nearly rips Uee’s head off in the middle of filming a scene.
“Geez, why do you keep messing up your line?”
“Look, I just came from another schedule, it was a huge rush and-”
“Are you trying to say you’re a better actress than me, person-who-has-more-job-offers?”
“What are you talking about, I didn’t even-”
“Huh, at least I’m not a stupid little bit-”
Heechul’s hand clamps down over Jinri’s mouth as she flails wildly, the other slightly older girl’s eyes filled with an emotion along the lines of complete outrage. The camera crew freezes, the calafare stop rehearsing their background acting and everyone knows what Jinri would have said if the senior hadn’t acted quickly enough.
Seriously speaking though, Jinri couldn’t give a shit about anyone else. For god’s sake, she was in the title role of the drama (and it was about a spoilt brat, but that’s beside the point here), why would they focus on a supporting character like the waitress-cum-boyfriend’s-ex-lover when they had plenty of her? She was Choi Sulli - so pretty, so beautiful.
Perfect.
Heechul ends up dragging her roughly (Jinri really doesn’t like to think of it as manhandling) back to her room, pushing her inside as his frown deepens drastically, and she swears she can see the faint wrinkles on his forehead as his eyebrows furrow. Huh, looks like the Botox and plastic never really worked too well for his face anyway.
The door slams and Heechul leans against it way too casually for his own good. Jinri knows what’s going to follow, but for some odd reason, she doesn’t give two hoots.
“What have I told you about being polite to your fellow actors?” Heechul’s tone is somewhere caught between being filled with disappointment and brimming with irritation, so Jinri just rolls her eyes because honestly, everyone’s over-reacting. She only resorts to shouting back at him when the man knocks away the flask that she’s about to bring to her lips.
“Yah, oppa! What are you thinking? That’s my-”
“Alcohol.”
She pauses for a moment, and then curses.
“Everyone knows the rumours, Jinri. Especially after that cab-driver supposedly drove a drunken Choi Sulli lookalike back home last month. Jeez, you don’t even know how much we had to pay him just so he’d keep mum and claim that the woman he ferried wasn’t you. Can’t you even be more careful?”
Jinri mutters something about Heechul being way too anal, except she’s not quite sure what comes out of her mouth because her head is buzzing and the air’s way too thick and gods, why does she keep thinking of fruits and liquor and flashing lights?
She chooses the perfect moment to snap out of her reverie for a second, and just about snaps like a dry twig at the older man’s words.
“… don’t know what you’re becoming, Jinri. One day you’re gonna get out of control completely. I’m not your dad or your mom or your brother, but-”
“Then just shut the hell up.”
Both of them notice the lack of formalities in her language. Heechul sighs, Jinri looks away.
-
It’s more than a well-established fact that Sulli’s on a hiatus after years of non-stop work.
Or rather, SM Entertainment’s having more fun overworking some sixteen-year-old that just debuted.
“No one’ll want you anymore once you hit your mid-twenties,” she remembers Heechul telling her rather jokingly once. But fuck, she realises that he’s right.
So she has to do something instead of lazing around like the company leaves her to. Jinri needs a job, she needs the money so bad even though her bank account’s not too dismal itself (save the cash for more rainy days, yeah?) so what better place to work than at a bar?
None of the girls there fidget in their crop tops and micro-skirts while they serve all the perverted men (and women) drinks, so Jinri figures she just has to suck all the shit up as well. It gets her fair cash, it gets her offers of free drinks whether they’re spiked or not (which she all regretfully rejects), it gets her the stares of others when she passes them by with their share of alcohol.
“You’re beautiful, my dear. You remind me of Choi Sulli,” one older man remarks with a raised eyebrow as he gently holds the beer in his hand, and Jinri senses that he’s one of the few men who don’t actually patronise the place for a good look at women.
So she smiles coyly and bows, because no member of public has ever seen the older Choi Sulli in person without makeup. “Thank you sir, I appreciate that.”
He chuckles a little loudly, but not loud enough to make the other patrons turn their heads (not that they could if they wanted to anyway, since some of Jinri’s colleagues were busy giving out lap dances). “It’s true, young lady. I find it strange how a girl like you ended up with a job here.” The older man disapproving glances over her shoulder, obviously not entertained by the other girls’ flirting with customers behind her.
Deep down inside, Jinri wonders why the heck she’s there too.
Apparently, her thinking has never been too complex because she doesn’t even have time to properly come up with an answer, before her bartender-slash-boss is calling her back to the bar.
“Yah, Jinshil,” she cringes at his easy use of her pseudonym, “hand this martini to the guy at table 41.” And she’s off again, because work means work and no messing around.
Unless, of course, friends get mixed into the job.
At first, she thinks she’s just seeing things, but that dark blue cap with silver patterns on his head is way too familiar for her liking.
And when he looks up, she wishes she hadn’t met his eyes. They’re dark and open wide and worst of all, unsurprised.
“Thanks for the drink, Jinri-ah.”
His voice is smooth and it hasn’t changed one bit, despite him having obviously developed from a puny kid to a completely desirable man in about ten years.
“You’re welcome, Taemin-ssi.”
She should really get going, Jinri tells herself, but Taemin only grabs her forearm tight as he brings the glass to his lips. “Delicious.” A shiver runs down her spine.
She actually spares a thought or two regarding Taemin’s visit - was he a regular; had he known she was there before he came? Jinri sits herself on the high stool opposite him as one of his hands continues pouring the beer through his lips, while the other’s fingers trace invisible lines up and down her wrist.
“So this is your hiatus.” It’s so clear, that mockery in his voice and Jinri really can’t stand it. Then again, since when could she ever stand fake aegyo and blatant sarcasm put together?
“Yeah, yeah. Think what you want, I wanted to come here.” And she’s nearly intelligent enough to slip off the chair and carry on with work, but Taemin just has to call another drink over directly from the bartender. Jinri turns around and see’s her boss wave her away with a smile, though she knows it just means a pay cut.
But nevertheless, he’s still her senior. So really, it’s only polite and right that she accepts his drink, despite Heechul’s forced ban of alcohol (oh, the irony of her occupation).
And once she starts, she doesn’t stop.
She doesn’t even stop when one of her fellow servers calls her over to help attend to the new crowd of men, just mumbles something like “shut the hell up” and continues drinking, continues ignoring Taemin’s strangely aggravating gaze.
It’s so stupid, the look of complacency on his face as he watches her bring herself down again, down in drinks and alcohol and flashing lights. So this is what she gets after years of having to linger in his shadow as a junior? How appropriate. Well, he must be having a damn large amount of fun watching the real her - watching her break down after once accusing her of being “another high and mighty bitch”.
It’s so obvious that he’s purposely staring her down, intentionally taunting her with his eyes that were always prettier than hers. And she knows she’s right when he completely flips off a crazy girl visitor who palms his crotch flat out, and instead he flicks his eyes back to poor, weak Jinri.
Jinri wants to curse, wants to say a harsh “Fuck off” but the words come out slurred, and for once she doesn’t know who they’re directed at. The lights make her head spin and turn and flip but the stupid man opposite her is still staring, eyes darker than ever as the strokes on her wrist become harder, surer, longer-lingering.
And she lets him. She lets him torture her with his scorning looks, lips quivering as the alcohol misses her mouth and drips down her chin, leaks down her neck into her cleavage.
Jinri doesn’t even care anymore about how or why he got there in the first place. No, she lets him pull her out of the club and into the back seat of a red Lamborghini, presumably his. Taemin seems like a gentleman but he’s definitely not - he’s rough and dominating and Jinri experiences it first hand when he throws her face first into the seat, bites down on her neck and makes her strip. She knows what he wants, and knows he wants it done his way.
That’s why she protests to his groping of her ass, because he tells her to, tells her to resist. She thrashes and screams and her head nearly hits the closed door; but Taemin wants more, he dominates her, he coaxes the loud moans out of her, and she knows deep down that this is the fucking reality he’s always wanted.
He makes her bleed at the first entry, makes her cry as the tears slide down her face but the ecstasy runs through her veins. She forces herself to scream “no” but he screams “yes” and she wants to scream “yes” because he keeps hitting that spot, keeps making her feel so good and free and uncontrolled.
And Jinri thinks, for a fraction of a moment, that this is who she is.
She grabs at his hair and his hips and his everything and he gives it to her hard and fast and painful until he falls over the edge first. And seconds later, Jinri struggles to put her top back in place properly as he speeds off into the night, after shoving her out of the vehicle. She doesn’t even notice the faintest tinge of red on the back of her skirt. When she steps back into the underground, Jinri moves to pick her tray up and get back to work, because honestly, nothing happened between them at all.
And then, she finds the half a million won clenched tight in her fist.
It’s crisp money, cold hard cash. There’s the sound of light crunches heard as she straightens out each of the notes and has a good look and feel of the money. God, why does it feel so good?
Jinri figures she might have just sold her own body. The scary thing is that she’s fine with it.
-
It’s complete shit, everything.
First, he puts her in some psychiatrist’s office, then signs her up for alcoholics anonymous and makes her go for sex addiction counselling. But isn’t it obvious that nothing is wrong with her?
And who the hell does he think he is, her brother? Her father?
God?
The door opens and once again, he’s wearing that stupid black coat. It’s just so sickening, how he stands out against the white-washed walls of the room, like he’s proclaiming his presence as a gift from hell.
“How are you, Jinri?”
She looks out of the window. Her fingers play with the rims of her shirt sleeves. The cushioned chair she sits in suddenly seems a lot softer, as she lets herself sink back into it.
Heechul hums a tune as he removes his sunglasses and cap. He hums some song that she vaguely remembers had a meaning along the lines of “Whatever I want, whatever I wish, I’m new blood”.
Jinki snickers, As if you care about me, bastard.
Heechul sighs. She’s like an open book, readable and available for everyone to see, and she’s a horrible, very horrible actress.
So he just sits in a chair in another corner of the room, and takes out newspaper to read from his backpack. Her eyes suddenly leave their previous positions of admiring the outdoors, and snap towards the grey paper as he flips, flips, flips the sheets.
He watches her eyes move with his page-turning, and frowns. He knows what she sees. It’s yesterday’s news that she sees, old articles of blown-up scandals and crimes, columns of insults and libel and ridicule.
Of course, she sees herself.
Jinri’s eyes flash over and over and over again as the words play back in her head, clear and harsh and black. “Sulli - the alcoholic in make-up”, “Choi Sulli charged with violation of prostitution laws”, “Madness is the end of Sulli’s career”, “Famous actress taken into appropriate care by local authorities”, and all she can say to herself is fuck, fuck, fuck.
Her eyes don’t seem to get any wetter at that. There’re no more tears left. Jinri can’t seem to make her eyes leave the paper either, and she forgets for a moment that Heechul’s watching her every move.
He tucks the paper away, and looks at her.
“What have you become?”
No, he doesn’t ask it. But his eyes do. Every single time he visits.
“I don’t need your help.” Her voice is hoarse, she’s ruined it from all the protests and screams from years gone by. It used to be so much nicer. It used to be.
“You’re wrong,” he mutters while shaking his head. The movement is not unfamiliar.
“Then when am I right?” Her own heart hardens. “I never am, am I?”
He looks away, and she doesn’t have to ask again. His feet pad over to the shelf not far from her chair, and he places a small teddy bear next to five other plush toys displayed together. The bear’s eyes are round and bright, and Jinri wonders why they seem so familiar.
But Jinri doesn’t let her guard down, and before Heechul can leave through the door, “You think you’re helping me, fool. You’re not. I’m saner than you.”
He doesn’t hesitate at all before saying the next words, and Jinri sees the two dark ebony horns finally showing themselves on the back of his head. The devil, the devil!
“Have a good day, my dear,” is the deadpanned reply she gets. And she door shuts.
She looks between the doorknob, the new bear, and the calendar on her wall. Then she blinks.
Oh.
“Happy Christmas, Jinri,” she whispers.
Jinri laughs cheerfully for the first time in a long while as she runs away from her friends, while playing a Christmas game. They’re slightly older than her, but fun nonetheless, as they shout out her name, “Jinr-ssii! Jinri-ssi, where are you?” It’s a lovely game of chase and hide-and-seek combined into one, and how fun it is indeed!
She turns her head back and finds one of them flailing after her, running in a pair of black heels that would never get her far, and Jinri says, “Catch me if you can!” The running woman just shouts more, and Jinri is delighted.
Up and over, right and left, she finally finds the perfect hiding spot as she shuts the doors behind her. It’s an open space, and Jinri explores the area, delighted as she sees the beautiful view of the city below her.
The roof garden is such a pleasant little place, she thinks, as she flounces over to the railing. She places her weight on it lightly and looks up to the sky, seeing the stars against the blue-ish velvet night. So pretty, so beautiful.
Indeed, so perfect.
And then she’s attracted to one of the great twinkling balls, for in drops down in a beautiful streak, its path coloured gold at first, then fading into yellow, an odd shade of grey, and black as it covers space in the sky. What a lovely display, Jinri thinks.
She then realises, “A falling star!” Weren’t they the ones that flew?
Jinri’s always wanted to be a star. Shining in the night and looking down on the world around her, what could be better? Nothing. But she supposes that the prospects of becoming a star aren’t too dim yet, if she can try to fly.
So she tells herself she will.
It’s just one, two, three steps that will get her soaring above everything like a bird, a plane, a star. And she takes the one, two, three steps.
She giggles again as her feet leave the railing and the wind rushes against her ears from below. Her eyes sting a bit, but if this is what it takes to get to the top, then it would be okay go through the pain for a while.
After taking a glance below, she sees some tree branches and nearly screams - but no, beyond the braches there’s a light in the middle of darkness, it’s the star and she’s going to become like it, so she falls, falls, falls as her clothes billow in the wind.
The branches of the tall trees scratch her arms and face but it doesn’t matter. She feels the sting and a taste reminiscent of metal on her lips, but there’s just a bit more to tolerate, a little bit more…
It’s only then that she remembers what someone - she can’t remember who, but it was some woman who was really flexible - said to her. Something along the lines of, “Pain is good, it means you’re alive.”
She laughs. Of course she’s alive, she’s flying! What a joke.
Seconds later, the pain goes away.
-
It’s pretty shocking, the next morning, when it’s splayed all over the news that a dead body was found at the back of the mental health centre. No one’s made an escape before, it’s quite a first.
And so the police repeat themselves again and again, asking for people to identify the body. It’s female, but with a face scratched and seemingly slashed by sharp objects, and clothes bloodied to the point of being stained completely red. Limbs of pale white stick out from the scarlet smock that the corpse wears, and apparently, dogs seem to be attracted to take a lick at the wounds on the wrists.
No one comes to make a claim.
No one wants to.
How you have fallen from heaven
O morning star
Child of the dawn
(Isaiah 14:12a)
Poll Round 6: Jezebel