trampolines, they'll shoot us out to the stars, jia/min, pg-13
trampolines, they'll shoot us out to the stars
jia-centric, jia/min; pg-13, 1927 words
jia fears for herself, min comes armed with tissues and at the end of the day, the damsel is saved.
It doesn't happen often, but when it comes down to the moments when she is alone, sitting on her bed, or with the members, changing, or stamping a new Jia over the old Jia for the cameras, she begins to worry about her personality. She could be a shape-shifter, for all the different forms she's taken upon, smiling then listening solemnly then making sarcastic remarks that risk somebody else's dashed hopes.
Wouldn't it be nice to be consistent in her personality? She wishes she could be someone who wasn't known only by the colour of her hair, despite the constant reassurance that without her hair Miss A wouldn't have drawn as much attention from the audience when they'd debuted. But wishes don't come true, and no amount of wishing upon a shooting star will increase her chances of satisfaction, personality-wise.
While she ponders over her blinding lack of character, Min makes her presence known. "Chocolate!" she announces, bouncing onto the hotel bed. "We need them." The beige covers crinkle beneath Min and the bed springs creak.
"We can't eat them." Then making critical eyes at the mattress, "One day you'll grow heavy enough to bounce right off the bed and hit the ceiling." The ceilings were always too low in hotel rooms anyway.
"I'll eat them then, you can watch," Min says, completely dismissing Jia's remark and rolling off and padding to the mini fridge. She waves a Hershey bar in the air in triumph.
A minute of watching Min devour the thing is as bad as sitting in a jail cell and watching the jailer smirk at you. Jia gives Min her best glare and Min turns around from the TV and gives her a feral smile and the Hershey bar sits half-eaten in her hand. Then Min cracks up, and like a contagious disease Jia finds herself laughing along. Before long she's gnawing at half a chocolate bar broken off into her hand, kicking her feet up on the bed, scooting back and resting on her elbows.
"We'll break the ceiling together," Min says, "We'll sail right through the roof."
Jia laughs. "The poor bed springs."
The first time it happened, Jia was warm all over and coming down with something. The lights were too bright, the cushions too soft, the air too cold. Weariness seeped through her limbs, enough that she felt too woozy to stand up and go to bed where the promise of blankets and warm pillows and teddy bears awaited. Drawing her arms around her waist, Jia dug deeper into the couch and closed her eyes, willing the pounding in her head to leave.
After an uncertain amount of time passed--Jia couldn't be too sure, the tic-tic of the clock had started blending into a buzz not too long ago--someone shook her shoulder. "Dude," a voice said, "You've mistaken the couch as your bed."
"Mmprgh," Jia replied as the jostling progressively got more aggressive. "Stop it."
When she next opened her eyes, Min was spreading a blanket over her, a familiar musk settling in the air around her.
Self-actualisation, that's what she needs more than anything. Jia watches Fei do her thing, mothering Suzy and laughing and joking, brushing arms with Min, and generally carrying around a sense of sisterly affection.
Ultimately, Jia knows herself. She knows herself better than the back of her hand, because who has time to memorise the rises and dips of their knuckles, or the pale blue and green veins running under their skin? But time is relative. While she can't be trusted to be able to haul an accurate image of the back of her hand from her memory, Jia knows exactly where her moles and birthmarks are, and where her skin dimples under pressure. Curiously, she's not as well equipped with knowledge in the character department.
Out of nowhere, Suzy wraps her arms around Jia's torso and laughs into her neck. She smells nice. The euphoria of winning their first award hasn't worn off yet, they're still waiting for their van to bring them back home, and Fei is standing in the corner looking, to put it simply, happy, while Min is blissed out on the couch. Her eyes still feel raw from crying so hard. "Isn't it great?" Suzy says, springing around to Jia's front and grinning, eyes curving at the edges. Young and happy, and Jia swells up with pride.
There's something to be said about having wishes come true.
"Yeah," Jia says, wrapping her arms around Suzy.
It really is.
The thirty-something time it happened, Min was sprawled on the floor, legs propped up on the couch and head cushioned by her hand, watching the TV upside down. Jia scraped a fingernail over Min's foot, grabbing her ankle when she yelped, jerking her foot away. Grinning, she continued tickling Min until she nearly had a toe shoved up her nose for her efforts, and there were little red marks on her wrists where Min had seized her in a bid to stop the tickling.
"I suppose," Min gasped between bouts of laughter, "You think this is funny?" She twisted her foot to no avail and tears gathered up in her eyes, but she was smiling.
"You're laughing."
"This is--this isn't funny laughter, it's--oh my god stop--if you don't stop I won't be responsible for any injuries, I swear--"
By the time Min was released from Jia's hold, her cheeks were stained red and she had to breathe deeply before promising Jia a slow and painful death. Despite all her threats, Jia's grin was so big it threatened to fall off her face.
Fei sighs. "Try being a little less blunt, next time."
But this is me, Jia wants to protest. I'm supposed to be myself. Instead she says, "I know."
What's the point of staying true to her character when she barely has a proper grasp on herself? It's like cupping water with your hands. No matter how much water you fill, it'll always seep out. Constantly moving. Constantly changing. Gaining and losing, and if you're not careful you'll become just like two empty hands cupped together with nothing to hold, a book without its contents, a shadow of yourself.
Min avoids her for days. Jia watches as different brands of chocolate appear and disappear from the fridge, notices the discarded chocolate wrappers in the waste bin when it's her turn to empty the garbage. After they're done with the football commercial, Jia approaches Min with recyclable words between her lips, but before she can exercise her tongue, Min hurries away.
She should feel relieved, but instead something inside her--hope?--sinks to the bottom of her stomach and stays there for the rest of the day. Never before has she felt so at odds with herself.
When they had been informed of Min's sudden addition to the group, Jia immediately, admittedly foolishly, hated her for it. Why destroy the group's dynamics when their debut was drawing so close they could touch it with their fingertips if they tried? Min was too practiced, her voice too strong when Jia was having trouble just breathing properly, her dancing too powerful when Jia felt her limbs would go on a strike.
It was maddening.
To make it more frustrating, Min was charming and Jia knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would score well with the fans and in the business. Min drew attention to herself without coming across as trying too hard. Even through the reflection of the practice room's mirror it was obvious that Min had a certain way of moving that exploded with confidence.
And as though it couldn't get any worse, Min had to be the one to stumble across Jia sobbing herself within an inch of her life in the restroom. Of course.
Immediately Jia turned on the tap and pretended to be washing her face, muffling her shuddery breaths behind the rush of water against the sink. When it seemed that she was the only one in the restroom again, Jia stopped the water and wiped a hand down her dripping face, and nearly jumped into the next decade when Min stared back at her through the mirror.
"Move over, I need to wash my hands," she said. Numbly Jia stepped aside, almost missing the packet of tissue thrown into her face when she dipped her head and tried her best to wipe her face subtly against her sweat soaked shirt.
When she lifted her head again, Min shrugged and said, "I get this a lot," and shook the packet. Then she wiped her hands on the back of her pants and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as Jia dried her face, successfully getting wisps of tissue stuck to her cheeks.
Jia would say thanks, but that would require some level of motor coordination from her vocal chords and she didn't quite trust it yet.
"You got some... some tissue on your face," Min said. She reached over a prodded Jia's cheek. "Here."
She nodded wordlessly. Min smiled a half-smile and sort of brush-patted her shoulder, then turned and gave Jia the privacy she needed.
Needless to say, Jia made sure to smile extra bright when she returned the packet of tissue to Min the following day.
"What?"
Things had actually been going fine. Jia even had the whole I'm-so-so-so-sorry act down, all while keeping her dignity intact. It was going fine and dandy and she had even started to hope again when she messed it up by blurting, "I'm sorry," and "I love you". Fantastic.
"Um," Jia says, "What?" Like she herself can't believe her own ears.
"What what?"
"Huh?" Maybe if she acts dumb she'll get out of this situation unscathed. Yeah. If only pigs could fly.
"Did you just --"
"No."
"-- tell me you --"
"Shh!"
Then to Jia's complete and utmost mortification, Min snorts. And proceeds to fall over herself laughing.
Despite herself, Jia feels the corners of her lips quirk up. "This is not something to laugh about!" she scolds, daring to believe that perhaps Min had heard her wrongly. "Here I am, practically begging for your forgiveness and there you are -- ack! Get off!"
From in between Min and the hard, unforgiving floor, Jia feels like she's being mercilessly sandwiched. "Oh my god," she protests, falling back to Mandarin, "Someone help!" And she's so busy trying to push Min off she almost misses the chaste brush of lips against her cheek. Something tight seizes her chest and steals her breath away, and Jia grips Min's arms tightly.
"Someone called?" Fei asks from the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised, a telltale curve to her cheeks.
Min snorts again and clambers off Jia, pulling her up with a short tug. "The damsel has been saved," she announces, sweeping herself into a deep bow.
Jia grins and salutes, and Fei rolls her eyes and tells them to keep the noise level down, she doesn't want them to wake Suzy. Min waggles her eyebrows at Jia when Fei has her back turned, smile turning dirty.
With something constant now, it's given that Jia doesn't ponder as much about her less than satisfactory personality. After all, she has someone to soften her edges and sharpen her blunt corners, and, well, there is a truth to the term 'be careful what you wish for', as she finds out later at night when Min crawls under her covers with icy hands and icier lips.
jia-centric, jia/min; pg-13, 1927 words
jia fears for herself, min comes armed with tissues and at the end of the day, the damsel is saved.
It doesn't happen often, but when it comes down to the moments when she is alone, sitting on her bed, or with the members, changing, or stamping a new Jia over the old Jia for the cameras, she begins to worry about her personality. She could be a shape-shifter, for all the different forms she's taken upon, smiling then listening solemnly then making sarcastic remarks that risk somebody else's dashed hopes.
Wouldn't it be nice to be consistent in her personality? She wishes she could be someone who wasn't known only by the colour of her hair, despite the constant reassurance that without her hair Miss A wouldn't have drawn as much attention from the audience when they'd debuted. But wishes don't come true, and no amount of wishing upon a shooting star will increase her chances of satisfaction, personality-wise.
While she ponders over her blinding lack of character, Min makes her presence known. "Chocolate!" she announces, bouncing onto the hotel bed. "We need them." The beige covers crinkle beneath Min and the bed springs creak.
"We can't eat them." Then making critical eyes at the mattress, "One day you'll grow heavy enough to bounce right off the bed and hit the ceiling." The ceilings were always too low in hotel rooms anyway.
"I'll eat them then, you can watch," Min says, completely dismissing Jia's remark and rolling off and padding to the mini fridge. She waves a Hershey bar in the air in triumph.
A minute of watching Min devour the thing is as bad as sitting in a jail cell and watching the jailer smirk at you. Jia gives Min her best glare and Min turns around from the TV and gives her a feral smile and the Hershey bar sits half-eaten in her hand. Then Min cracks up, and like a contagious disease Jia finds herself laughing along. Before long she's gnawing at half a chocolate bar broken off into her hand, kicking her feet up on the bed, scooting back and resting on her elbows.
"We'll break the ceiling together," Min says, "We'll sail right through the roof."
Jia laughs. "The poor bed springs."
The first time it happened, Jia was warm all over and coming down with something. The lights were too bright, the cushions too soft, the air too cold. Weariness seeped through her limbs, enough that she felt too woozy to stand up and go to bed where the promise of blankets and warm pillows and teddy bears awaited. Drawing her arms around her waist, Jia dug deeper into the couch and closed her eyes, willing the pounding in her head to leave.
After an uncertain amount of time passed--Jia couldn't be too sure, the tic-tic of the clock had started blending into a buzz not too long ago--someone shook her shoulder. "Dude," a voice said, "You've mistaken the couch as your bed."
"Mmprgh," Jia replied as the jostling progressively got more aggressive. "Stop it."
When she next opened her eyes, Min was spreading a blanket over her, a familiar musk settling in the air around her.
Self-actualisation, that's what she needs more than anything. Jia watches Fei do her thing, mothering Suzy and laughing and joking, brushing arms with Min, and generally carrying around a sense of sisterly affection.
Ultimately, Jia knows herself. She knows herself better than the back of her hand, because who has time to memorise the rises and dips of their knuckles, or the pale blue and green veins running under their skin? But time is relative. While she can't be trusted to be able to haul an accurate image of the back of her hand from her memory, Jia knows exactly where her moles and birthmarks are, and where her skin dimples under pressure. Curiously, she's not as well equipped with knowledge in the character department.
Out of nowhere, Suzy wraps her arms around Jia's torso and laughs into her neck. She smells nice. The euphoria of winning their first award hasn't worn off yet, they're still waiting for their van to bring them back home, and Fei is standing in the corner looking, to put it simply, happy, while Min is blissed out on the couch. Her eyes still feel raw from crying so hard. "Isn't it great?" Suzy says, springing around to Jia's front and grinning, eyes curving at the edges. Young and happy, and Jia swells up with pride.
There's something to be said about having wishes come true.
"Yeah," Jia says, wrapping her arms around Suzy.
It really is.
The thirty-something time it happened, Min was sprawled on the floor, legs propped up on the couch and head cushioned by her hand, watching the TV upside down. Jia scraped a fingernail over Min's foot, grabbing her ankle when she yelped, jerking her foot away. Grinning, she continued tickling Min until she nearly had a toe shoved up her nose for her efforts, and there were little red marks on her wrists where Min had seized her in a bid to stop the tickling.
"I suppose," Min gasped between bouts of laughter, "You think this is funny?" She twisted her foot to no avail and tears gathered up in her eyes, but she was smiling.
"You're laughing."
"This is--this isn't funny laughter, it's--oh my god stop--if you don't stop I won't be responsible for any injuries, I swear--"
By the time Min was released from Jia's hold, her cheeks were stained red and she had to breathe deeply before promising Jia a slow and painful death. Despite all her threats, Jia's grin was so big it threatened to fall off her face.
Fei sighs. "Try being a little less blunt, next time."
But this is me, Jia wants to protest. I'm supposed to be myself. Instead she says, "I know."
What's the point of staying true to her character when she barely has a proper grasp on herself? It's like cupping water with your hands. No matter how much water you fill, it'll always seep out. Constantly moving. Constantly changing. Gaining and losing, and if you're not careful you'll become just like two empty hands cupped together with nothing to hold, a book without its contents, a shadow of yourself.
Min avoids her for days. Jia watches as different brands of chocolate appear and disappear from the fridge, notices the discarded chocolate wrappers in the waste bin when it's her turn to empty the garbage. After they're done with the football commercial, Jia approaches Min with recyclable words between her lips, but before she can exercise her tongue, Min hurries away.
She should feel relieved, but instead something inside her--hope?--sinks to the bottom of her stomach and stays there for the rest of the day. Never before has she felt so at odds with herself.
When they had been informed of Min's sudden addition to the group, Jia immediately, admittedly foolishly, hated her for it. Why destroy the group's dynamics when their debut was drawing so close they could touch it with their fingertips if they tried? Min was too practiced, her voice too strong when Jia was having trouble just breathing properly, her dancing too powerful when Jia felt her limbs would go on a strike.
It was maddening.
To make it more frustrating, Min was charming and Jia knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would score well with the fans and in the business. Min drew attention to herself without coming across as trying too hard. Even through the reflection of the practice room's mirror it was obvious that Min had a certain way of moving that exploded with confidence.
And as though it couldn't get any worse, Min had to be the one to stumble across Jia sobbing herself within an inch of her life in the restroom. Of course.
Immediately Jia turned on the tap and pretended to be washing her face, muffling her shuddery breaths behind the rush of water against the sink. When it seemed that she was the only one in the restroom again, Jia stopped the water and wiped a hand down her dripping face, and nearly jumped into the next decade when Min stared back at her through the mirror.
"Move over, I need to wash my hands," she said. Numbly Jia stepped aside, almost missing the packet of tissue thrown into her face when she dipped her head and tried her best to wipe her face subtly against her sweat soaked shirt.
When she lifted her head again, Min shrugged and said, "I get this a lot," and shook the packet. Then she wiped her hands on the back of her pants and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as Jia dried her face, successfully getting wisps of tissue stuck to her cheeks.
Jia would say thanks, but that would require some level of motor coordination from her vocal chords and she didn't quite trust it yet.
"You got some... some tissue on your face," Min said. She reached over a prodded Jia's cheek. "Here."
She nodded wordlessly. Min smiled a half-smile and sort of brush-patted her shoulder, then turned and gave Jia the privacy she needed.
Needless to say, Jia made sure to smile extra bright when she returned the packet of tissue to Min the following day.
"What?"
Things had actually been going fine. Jia even had the whole I'm-so-so-so-sorry act down, all while keeping her dignity intact. It was going fine and dandy and she had even started to hope again when she messed it up by blurting, "I'm sorry," and "I love you". Fantastic.
"Um," Jia says, "What?" Like she herself can't believe her own ears.
"What what?"
"Huh?" Maybe if she acts dumb she'll get out of this situation unscathed. Yeah. If only pigs could fly.
"Did you just --"
"No."
"-- tell me you --"
"Shh!"
Then to Jia's complete and utmost mortification, Min snorts. And proceeds to fall over herself laughing.
Despite herself, Jia feels the corners of her lips quirk up. "This is not something to laugh about!" she scolds, daring to believe that perhaps Min had heard her wrongly. "Here I am, practically begging for your forgiveness and there you are -- ack! Get off!"
From in between Min and the hard, unforgiving floor, Jia feels like she's being mercilessly sandwiched. "Oh my god," she protests, falling back to Mandarin, "Someone help!" And she's so busy trying to push Min off she almost misses the chaste brush of lips against her cheek. Something tight seizes her chest and steals her breath away, and Jia grips Min's arms tightly.
"Someone called?" Fei asks from the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised, a telltale curve to her cheeks.
Min snorts again and clambers off Jia, pulling her up with a short tug. "The damsel has been saved," she announces, sweeping herself into a deep bow.
Jia grins and salutes, and Fei rolls her eyes and tells them to keep the noise level down, she doesn't want them to wake Suzy. Min waggles her eyebrows at Jia when Fei has her back turned, smile turning dirty.
With something constant now, it's given that Jia doesn't ponder as much about her less than satisfactory personality. After all, she has someone to soften her edges and sharpen her blunt corners, and, well, there is a truth to the term 'be careful what you wish for', as she finds out later at night when Min crawls under her covers with icy hands and icier lips.