Round 15: Running Girl
Title: Running Girl
Team: Canon
Rating: PG
Fandom: f(x)
Pairing: Luna-centric, some Luna/Amber, Luna/Krystal, and hinted Luna/Key (SHINee)
Summary: Luna isn't quite sure what she's afraid of.
Author's Note: Thank you to my lovely friend who beta-d for me and listened to me freak out when I started worrying about this fic. ♥
Prompt Used: Epik High - Run
She’s happy.
“You’re disappearing,” Amber says one morning. Luna wonders if she'd seen her checking the scale in the bathroom before she came skipping into the kitchen.
Luna just smiles.
“Just don’t end up like skin-and-bones over there,” she motions-with a mouthful of breakfast-toward the couch where Krystal is lounging, barely moving save for the click of the remote control. “She's got a grudge against food.”
“For what?”
“Existing,” she says.
Krystal, still on the couch, grunts. “You know I can hear everything-”
“-yeah, I know,” Amber remarks, dryly. She reaches for her water and chugs it all down in seconds. Luna can’t help but watch her move. Everyone in this house is thinner or taller than her, or both. She suddenly feels tiny, like she’s shrinking and she finds herself involuntarily gripping the kitchen table. She is thinner now, but she’s still small, short, so small, tiny, and disappearing.
She excuses herself without a word, and leaves Amber alone with a mouthful of eggs. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. All girls have mood swings.
--
Sometimes she wants to run away.
She took up running before their comeback, before Pinocchio. It seemed like a good idea at the time. She took up running, but only runs at night, when no one else is around, and she runs for so long that it seems she can’t even stop. If she can’t stop, would someone else try to stop her? Would they come looking for her?
Of course they would. They’d have to. Does a company magically lose one of their vocalists overnight via running away? Krystal has mentioned it before, how she could pack her bags and simply leave if she wanted to, but Victoria would give her that look-that look that was so maternal and concerned and angry all in one place and all in one face-and Krystal would go back to pushing around bits of meat with her chopsticks. Rebelliousness becomes her. Luna has never been the type, though.
So Luna always stops. She always stops, and she turns around, and she runs home before anyone else wakes up, or notices she’s gone.
--
“You’ve gained weight.”
Luna looks up at Amber again. She wants to ask how she knows, but maybe the whole world can tell.
“It's all over your face.”
“…What?”
“You’re moping, and you’re only drinking tea.”
Luna clutches the cup in her little hands, wanting to shrink away.
“What’s with you?” the older girl asks. “Come on. There’s something else.”
She sighs, shakes her head, and takes another sip. “It’s nothing. I’ll…I’ll work it off again.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t have noticed unless you were defying the act of eating a normal breakfast,” says Amber, taking a bite of toast she’d burned for herself. “Most important meal of the day. And hey! It could be a lot worse.”
“Hm?” at this point, she's humoring Amber. She almost doesn't want to hear it at all.
“You could weigh 500 pounds and need assistance getting out of bed every morning.”
“Kilos, Amber. Kilos.” ‘Pounds’ sounds strange, yet some things just don't convert for this girl. Amber's mind has come overseas rather well since their debut, since the days of broken Korean and mixed English with Krystal. They were all a bit lost back then. Thrown into this new business. Luna was only sixteen then, she thinks. She can't even remember anymore. Maybe she'd only just been born. That's what it’d felt like, at least.
“Well, that'd be even more, wouldn't it?” said the Californian. “I rest my case.”
Luna doesn't feel like eating the rest of her food. She pushes it at Amber.
“You’ve gotten a lot less sunshine-y.”
She flings a bit of rice at Amber's face. A few grains leave a trail from bangs to nose.
“And a bit more belligerent.”
She can't help but smile. A piece of rice drops from the tip of Amber's nose. “I’m as sunshine-y as ever,” she lies, about to throw another chunk of rice, but her hand freezes. Stiff. Tense.
--
She gets an email from her sister. It’s one of those things that makes the whole day feel like a holiday. Luna is ready to cry before she even opens it to read. But she needs to stop that. She’s seen herself melt into a mess before, even in the most positive of ways. The whole world will think she’s a pretty little train wreck, or a fountain, when she cries before long.
You look beautiful, she says; her sister. You’ve lost so much weight. Then again, you were always beautiful. Waiting for your new song-and don’t forget to write back this time! Love you!
People said things about her body, whispering, writing and printing things about her legs and how everyone else looked better in a skirt (Amber not included) than she did. It shouldn’t bother her so much, with her voice and all, but it still does.
Victoria taps on the door and elbows her way in slowly, eyes wide open with concern. “I made you some tea…”
“Thanks, umma,” she says, grinning. Too much teeth.
--
It’s nearing three in the morning. She’s running anyway, it doesn’t matter.
She’s searching for something; something smaller than herself, spinning in circles. But, she also feels good; safe. And alone.
Am I finding myself, or am I losing track of myself?
A few hours later, after the sun comes up, they dye her hair red.
--
Key is poking her new hair. He’s acting like she just slipped a wig on, tugging locks upwards-somewhat gently-inspecting. Waiting for her former blonde-ish look to pop out of nowhere.
When f(x) was just starting out, Luna had a dream where she was in love with Key, though he always seemed like the wrong person for her to love, but when she’d woken up all those nights ago she almost believed it and wouldn’t talk to him for weeks. Now she lets him play with her hair while she touches up her makeup, replacing a gap she’d mysteriously made in her lipstick from drinking water out of a glass, like it’s nothing.
In her mind, she's running back to the days when she was almost afraid of him; of making eye contact with anyone with more experience than her. They could hurt her if they wanted, but only because she willed herself into believing every single one of them had more talent than she did, to keep herself humble.
“No, no,” he says, taking the lipstick away from her. “Wrong shade.”
“Ah, shoot,” she says, sweet and ladylike. He reaches over Krystal and grabs the right one without looking at it more than once. But he’s right. Luna’s stomach lurches when she takes it from him. Nothing makes sense right now. Her hair is red instead of blonde or black or anything, and she’s dressed all in red, and everyone else is red, and everything is red and she just may fall over if she doesn’t close her eyes.
I don't know where I am anymore, she thinks, and almost says it out loud, but doesn’t need to anymore. Key has her by the shoulders, steadying her in the chair again. Her eyes are closed, but she knows it’s him. And then with one pat on the head, Key is gone. She opens her eyes. Everything is still red, hot, too full of summer, but she takes a deep breath and swallows the entirety of her feelings, swallowing herself whole into a place where her lipstick is perfect.
I am Luna, and I am okay.
--
She doesn’t know what she's so afraid of. There’s nothing wrong with her life. They’re successful. She’s regarded highly for her voice and sometimes her smile and her cuteness if she can pull it off right. She’s landed a part in Coyote Ugly and they're wrapping up promotions for Hot Summer. They won awards for Pinocchio. She loves her new hair color. There is nothing to be afraid of.
But one night when Krystal gives her a hug-a normal, friendly hug between two girls-but it gets to Luna. Life is full of too many possibilities. She could wake up in the morning to find that they’re disbanding. Their descent would come, maybe before, if it did. No one would love them anymore. They’d be a two-year spot on the Korean Pop industry, left behind by SM Entertainment on their climb to the highest level of popularity.
They have other groups, Luna thinks as she digs her fingers into Krystal’s back, almost willing to forget herself, why would they need us, because if she could forget about everything that’s happened and all they’ve achieved, I don't think I would mind losing it.
“Luna?”
“What?” her voice is muffled by the sleeve of Krystal’s t-shirt.
“Ow.”
“Oh!” Luna jumps back, flexing her fingers.
Krystal laughs, surprised, but she’s smiling and Luna wants to hug her all over again. She laughs, too, so hard that she has to lean on Krystal's shoulder. They can’t end. Neither of them know why their laughing so hard anymore, but it feels good.
--
It’s raining. Luna sees the drops smack against her window as she hurries to put on her running shorts and a t-shirt. A little rain isn't going to stop her. She pulls the sneakers she loves most out of the closet. If she were a normal girl, they’d be her go-to shoes every day, perhaps, even if they are starting to fall apart. But she isn’t a normal girl. She’s an idol, about to go for a run in the pouring rain. She could care less if she comes back soaked to the bone, though.
Everything is going to be alright. Being fragile is a trait and as much of a curse as it is a blessing. The worst is over.
She’s happy.
Poll Round 15: Running Girl
Team: Canon
Rating: PG
Fandom: f(x)
Pairing: Luna-centric, some Luna/Amber, Luna/Krystal, and hinted Luna/Key (SHINee)
Summary: Luna isn't quite sure what she's afraid of.
Author's Note: Thank you to my lovely friend who beta-d for me and listened to me freak out when I started worrying about this fic. ♥
Prompt Used: Epik High - Run
She’s happy.
“You’re disappearing,” Amber says one morning. Luna wonders if she'd seen her checking the scale in the bathroom before she came skipping into the kitchen.
Luna just smiles.
“Just don’t end up like skin-and-bones over there,” she motions-with a mouthful of breakfast-toward the couch where Krystal is lounging, barely moving save for the click of the remote control. “She's got a grudge against food.”
“For what?”
“Existing,” she says.
Krystal, still on the couch, grunts. “You know I can hear everything-”
“-yeah, I know,” Amber remarks, dryly. She reaches for her water and chugs it all down in seconds. Luna can’t help but watch her move. Everyone in this house is thinner or taller than her, or both. She suddenly feels tiny, like she’s shrinking and she finds herself involuntarily gripping the kitchen table. She is thinner now, but she’s still small, short, so small, tiny, and disappearing.
She excuses herself without a word, and leaves Amber alone with a mouthful of eggs. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. All girls have mood swings.
--
Sometimes she wants to run away.
She took up running before their comeback, before Pinocchio. It seemed like a good idea at the time. She took up running, but only runs at night, when no one else is around, and she runs for so long that it seems she can’t even stop. If she can’t stop, would someone else try to stop her? Would they come looking for her?
Of course they would. They’d have to. Does a company magically lose one of their vocalists overnight via running away? Krystal has mentioned it before, how she could pack her bags and simply leave if she wanted to, but Victoria would give her that look-that look that was so maternal and concerned and angry all in one place and all in one face-and Krystal would go back to pushing around bits of meat with her chopsticks. Rebelliousness becomes her. Luna has never been the type, though.
So Luna always stops. She always stops, and she turns around, and she runs home before anyone else wakes up, or notices she’s gone.
--
“You’ve gained weight.”
Luna looks up at Amber again. She wants to ask how she knows, but maybe the whole world can tell.
“It's all over your face.”
“…What?”
“You’re moping, and you’re only drinking tea.”
Luna clutches the cup in her little hands, wanting to shrink away.
“What’s with you?” the older girl asks. “Come on. There’s something else.”
She sighs, shakes her head, and takes another sip. “It’s nothing. I’ll…I’ll work it off again.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t have noticed unless you were defying the act of eating a normal breakfast,” says Amber, taking a bite of toast she’d burned for herself. “Most important meal of the day. And hey! It could be a lot worse.”
“Hm?” at this point, she's humoring Amber. She almost doesn't want to hear it at all.
“You could weigh 500 pounds and need assistance getting out of bed every morning.”
“Kilos, Amber. Kilos.” ‘Pounds’ sounds strange, yet some things just don't convert for this girl. Amber's mind has come overseas rather well since their debut, since the days of broken Korean and mixed English with Krystal. They were all a bit lost back then. Thrown into this new business. Luna was only sixteen then, she thinks. She can't even remember anymore. Maybe she'd only just been born. That's what it’d felt like, at least.
“Well, that'd be even more, wouldn't it?” said the Californian. “I rest my case.”
Luna doesn't feel like eating the rest of her food. She pushes it at Amber.
“You’ve gotten a lot less sunshine-y.”
She flings a bit of rice at Amber's face. A few grains leave a trail from bangs to nose.
“And a bit more belligerent.”
She can't help but smile. A piece of rice drops from the tip of Amber's nose. “I’m as sunshine-y as ever,” she lies, about to throw another chunk of rice, but her hand freezes. Stiff. Tense.
--
She gets an email from her sister. It’s one of those things that makes the whole day feel like a holiday. Luna is ready to cry before she even opens it to read. But she needs to stop that. She’s seen herself melt into a mess before, even in the most positive of ways. The whole world will think she’s a pretty little train wreck, or a fountain, when she cries before long.
You look beautiful, she says; her sister. You’ve lost so much weight. Then again, you were always beautiful. Waiting for your new song-and don’t forget to write back this time! Love you!
People said things about her body, whispering, writing and printing things about her legs and how everyone else looked better in a skirt (Amber not included) than she did. It shouldn’t bother her so much, with her voice and all, but it still does.
Victoria taps on the door and elbows her way in slowly, eyes wide open with concern. “I made you some tea…”
“Thanks, umma,” she says, grinning. Too much teeth.
--
It’s nearing three in the morning. She’s running anyway, it doesn’t matter.
She’s searching for something; something smaller than herself, spinning in circles. But, she also feels good; safe. And alone.
Am I finding myself, or am I losing track of myself?
A few hours later, after the sun comes up, they dye her hair red.
--
Key is poking her new hair. He’s acting like she just slipped a wig on, tugging locks upwards-somewhat gently-inspecting. Waiting for her former blonde-ish look to pop out of nowhere.
When f(x) was just starting out, Luna had a dream where she was in love with Key, though he always seemed like the wrong person for her to love, but when she’d woken up all those nights ago she almost believed it and wouldn’t talk to him for weeks. Now she lets him play with her hair while she touches up her makeup, replacing a gap she’d mysteriously made in her lipstick from drinking water out of a glass, like it’s nothing.
In her mind, she's running back to the days when she was almost afraid of him; of making eye contact with anyone with more experience than her. They could hurt her if they wanted, but only because she willed herself into believing every single one of them had more talent than she did, to keep herself humble.
“No, no,” he says, taking the lipstick away from her. “Wrong shade.”
“Ah, shoot,” she says, sweet and ladylike. He reaches over Krystal and grabs the right one without looking at it more than once. But he’s right. Luna’s stomach lurches when she takes it from him. Nothing makes sense right now. Her hair is red instead of blonde or black or anything, and she’s dressed all in red, and everyone else is red, and everything is red and she just may fall over if she doesn’t close her eyes.
I don't know where I am anymore, she thinks, and almost says it out loud, but doesn’t need to anymore. Key has her by the shoulders, steadying her in the chair again. Her eyes are closed, but she knows it’s him. And then with one pat on the head, Key is gone. She opens her eyes. Everything is still red, hot, too full of summer, but she takes a deep breath and swallows the entirety of her feelings, swallowing herself whole into a place where her lipstick is perfect.
I am Luna, and I am okay.
--
She doesn’t know what she's so afraid of. There’s nothing wrong with her life. They’re successful. She’s regarded highly for her voice and sometimes her smile and her cuteness if she can pull it off right. She’s landed a part in Coyote Ugly and they're wrapping up promotions for Hot Summer. They won awards for Pinocchio. She loves her new hair color. There is nothing to be afraid of.
But one night when Krystal gives her a hug-a normal, friendly hug between two girls-but it gets to Luna. Life is full of too many possibilities. She could wake up in the morning to find that they’re disbanding. Their descent would come, maybe before, if it did. No one would love them anymore. They’d be a two-year spot on the Korean Pop industry, left behind by SM Entertainment on their climb to the highest level of popularity.
They have other groups, Luna thinks as she digs her fingers into Krystal’s back, almost willing to forget herself, why would they need us, because if she could forget about everything that’s happened and all they’ve achieved, I don't think I would mind losing it.
“Luna?”
“What?” her voice is muffled by the sleeve of Krystal’s t-shirt.
“Ow.”
“Oh!” Luna jumps back, flexing her fingers.
Krystal laughs, surprised, but she’s smiling and Luna wants to hug her all over again. She laughs, too, so hard that she has to lean on Krystal's shoulder. They can’t end. Neither of them know why their laughing so hard anymore, but it feels good.
--
It’s raining. Luna sees the drops smack against her window as she hurries to put on her running shorts and a t-shirt. A little rain isn't going to stop her. She pulls the sneakers she loves most out of the closet. If she were a normal girl, they’d be her go-to shoes every day, perhaps, even if they are starting to fall apart. But she isn’t a normal girl. She’s an idol, about to go for a run in the pouring rain. She could care less if she comes back soaked to the bone, though.
Everything is going to be alright. Being fragile is a trait and as much of a curse as it is a blessing. The worst is over.
She’s happy.
Poll Round 15: Running Girl