For misplacebaggage! Love is a Thief (D-UNIT, Wooram/Yujin, PG)
Title: Love is a Thief
Recipient: misplacebaggage
Group(s)/Artist(s): D-UNIT
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Wooram/Yujin
Rating: PG
Warning(s):
Summary: Wooram is in love with her sister's girlfriend.
Note(s):
Wooram watches the volleyball team run through their practices. The bleachers are hard and the court echoes with the team’s efforts: ball passes, net passes, circle passes. Of course, Yujin is one of the best. She practices alone, or with a few close friends on the team. She’s western that way, not in the way that other people say that they’re western because they have modern amenities and free commerce, but just in the way she keeps herself. Wooram knows this, but it comforts her to review the evidence and explain to herself what a few years of being an outsider in a foreign country will do to a person.
Yujin submits and supports as much as anyone else on the team-a team that does not compete outside of its city district. That is to say, it is a team of losers. Amateurs, Wooram corrects herself. The balls smack angrily against the wall. The aggression hurts her ears. She feels out of place in this arena where everything depends on the balls, grimy with dirt. In the middle of this, she sits, burning with a message to deliver.
Boram wants to break up with you. Wooram imagines saying it out loud, and wonders how Yujin will take it. Yujin has always been kind to her, but there are many reasons why a message like this should be delivered in person. Boram hates that part of Yujin-how personally she takes everything.
It was an ill-fated match anyway. Wooram had never expected Yujin to choose someone so much older. That’s not what she had in mind when she introduced them. Welcome to my family, she had meant. Let me show you a different side of my story. She had always thought Yujin would at least go steady with someone in her own age group-maybe someone on her team, maybe another competitive student, maybe even Wooram herself.
But she shouldn’t doubt Yujin, even if she continually disappoints. She reaches down for her backpack. She might as well do her homework while she waits for them to finish.
“Watch out!” She looks up, and a ball hits her in the face. She reels back. Our team hits hard, she thinks to herself, and the ball bounces away, landing in the bleachers below.
Yujin jogs up to the bleachers, her apple hair flopping with each step and her arms outstretched. “Sorry! Can you pass us the ball?”
Wooram stands up. Her nose is still stinging, but she begins to climb down to grab the ball. “It’s fine,” she says, and her voice comes out strangely thick. For some reason it spurs Yujin into action.
“Oh my gosh!” Yujin says, and climbs up the bleachers. No, Wooram thinks. I’m not crying, am I? She straightens again and sniffles cautiously.
“You’re bleeding!” Yujin grabs the hem of her uniform and uses it to mop away the blood on Wooram’s face. Wooram tries not to recoil from the smell of her sweat, overlaid with bleach, and about four different brands of women’s deodorants. “When was the last time you washed your shirt?” she snaps. Yujin ignores her and turns around to yell at her coach.
“Coach, let me walk her to the nurse’s office!” Wooram tries not to feel anything at all. Yujin definitely isn’t appealing, definitely not with her sweat and her western brashness, and definitely not in the way she makes Wooram feel too dainty and inadequate. “Unnie,” Yujin says, and that’s the absolute worst part of all this, being so much older and yet somehow, still not old enough. “Since when do you come to our practices?”
“No reason. I can find my way to the nurse,” she says, but Yujin shoulders Wooram’s backpack like it’s her own, and she makes wearing backpacks look good, with her uniform and her shorts, and yes, Wooram allows herself to be escorted down the hall to the nurse’s office, if only for the view.
All the nurse can do is give her ice cubes wrapped in a towel, which she instructs Wooram to press to the bridge of her nose. Wooram sits down on a chair against the wall and tries to give Yujin another chance to leave. Not today, she pleads with herself. Tell her tomorrow. Because the truth is that Yujin glows right now, even under the draining light of the fluorescence. She looks happy. She’s always looked happy at practice. Kind but dull, the thought floats through Wooram’s mind, and she doesn’t remember whether she learned it from Boram, or whether it’s something she decided on her own.
“Sorry about that,” Yujin says. “I’ll walk you home after practice.” Wooram keeps her eyes down. She knows Yujin just wants another excuse to stop by her house and see Boram. She tries to keep the sneer out of her voice when she says:
“You can leave my backpack on the chair. Don’t you have your own books to carry?” And everyone knows that Yujin has never been the best at studying, but she just smiles and hefts her bag up higher.
“That’s okay. I can carry both of them, yours and mine! Just you watch.” She winks. “I needed some extra training anyway.”
Wooram stares at her from the bed, and bites her lip. That’s another thing that’s definitely not appealing about Yujin. Love is supposed to bring out the best in a person, not the worst.
She should tell. The words burn on her lips and she opens her mouth, licking away blood and a trickle of ice-cold water. She stares at Yujin’s ponytail, heavy with sweat. Her dimples. Her thighs.
She should lean close, whisper it in her ear, and get it over with. Grab her backpack and walk home.
She knows what will happen if she delivers her message.
kind but dull
And Wooram does it, just to shut up that stupid voice in her head, the one that’s not quite a taunt, not quite an endearment. She leans in.
Everything after that veers off-script. Their lips mash together, and Yujin’s damp hair brushes against Wooram’s forehead. The shock it pulls Wooram back, and between their lips, there is space enough for one sentence, one secret.
Yours or mine, sister?
She chooses.
“Saranghae,” she whispers.
Recipient: misplacebaggage
Group(s)/Artist(s): D-UNIT
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Wooram/Yujin
Rating: PG
Warning(s):
Summary: Wooram is in love with her sister's girlfriend.
Note(s):
Wooram watches the volleyball team run through their practices. The bleachers are hard and the court echoes with the team’s efforts: ball passes, net passes, circle passes. Of course, Yujin is one of the best. She practices alone, or with a few close friends on the team. She’s western that way, not in the way that other people say that they’re western because they have modern amenities and free commerce, but just in the way she keeps herself. Wooram knows this, but it comforts her to review the evidence and explain to herself what a few years of being an outsider in a foreign country will do to a person.
Yujin submits and supports as much as anyone else on the team-a team that does not compete outside of its city district. That is to say, it is a team of losers. Amateurs, Wooram corrects herself. The balls smack angrily against the wall. The aggression hurts her ears. She feels out of place in this arena where everything depends on the balls, grimy with dirt. In the middle of this, she sits, burning with a message to deliver.
Boram wants to break up with you. Wooram imagines saying it out loud, and wonders how Yujin will take it. Yujin has always been kind to her, but there are many reasons why a message like this should be delivered in person. Boram hates that part of Yujin-how personally she takes everything.
It was an ill-fated match anyway. Wooram had never expected Yujin to choose someone so much older. That’s not what she had in mind when she introduced them. Welcome to my family, she had meant. Let me show you a different side of my story. She had always thought Yujin would at least go steady with someone in her own age group-maybe someone on her team, maybe another competitive student, maybe even Wooram herself.
But she shouldn’t doubt Yujin, even if she continually disappoints. She reaches down for her backpack. She might as well do her homework while she waits for them to finish.
“Watch out!” She looks up, and a ball hits her in the face. She reels back. Our team hits hard, she thinks to herself, and the ball bounces away, landing in the bleachers below.
Yujin jogs up to the bleachers, her apple hair flopping with each step and her arms outstretched. “Sorry! Can you pass us the ball?”
Wooram stands up. Her nose is still stinging, but she begins to climb down to grab the ball. “It’s fine,” she says, and her voice comes out strangely thick. For some reason it spurs Yujin into action.
“Oh my gosh!” Yujin says, and climbs up the bleachers. No, Wooram thinks. I’m not crying, am I? She straightens again and sniffles cautiously.
“You’re bleeding!” Yujin grabs the hem of her uniform and uses it to mop away the blood on Wooram’s face. Wooram tries not to recoil from the smell of her sweat, overlaid with bleach, and about four different brands of women’s deodorants. “When was the last time you washed your shirt?” she snaps. Yujin ignores her and turns around to yell at her coach.
“Coach, let me walk her to the nurse’s office!” Wooram tries not to feel anything at all. Yujin definitely isn’t appealing, definitely not with her sweat and her western brashness, and definitely not in the way she makes Wooram feel too dainty and inadequate. “Unnie,” Yujin says, and that’s the absolute worst part of all this, being so much older and yet somehow, still not old enough. “Since when do you come to our practices?”
“No reason. I can find my way to the nurse,” she says, but Yujin shoulders Wooram’s backpack like it’s her own, and she makes wearing backpacks look good, with her uniform and her shorts, and yes, Wooram allows herself to be escorted down the hall to the nurse’s office, if only for the view.
All the nurse can do is give her ice cubes wrapped in a towel, which she instructs Wooram to press to the bridge of her nose. Wooram sits down on a chair against the wall and tries to give Yujin another chance to leave. Not today, she pleads with herself. Tell her tomorrow. Because the truth is that Yujin glows right now, even under the draining light of the fluorescence. She looks happy. She’s always looked happy at practice. Kind but dull, the thought floats through Wooram’s mind, and she doesn’t remember whether she learned it from Boram, or whether it’s something she decided on her own.
“Sorry about that,” Yujin says. “I’ll walk you home after practice.” Wooram keeps her eyes down. She knows Yujin just wants another excuse to stop by her house and see Boram. She tries to keep the sneer out of her voice when she says:
“You can leave my backpack on the chair. Don’t you have your own books to carry?” And everyone knows that Yujin has never been the best at studying, but she just smiles and hefts her bag up higher.
“That’s okay. I can carry both of them, yours and mine! Just you watch.” She winks. “I needed some extra training anyway.”
Wooram stares at her from the bed, and bites her lip. That’s another thing that’s definitely not appealing about Yujin. Love is supposed to bring out the best in a person, not the worst.
She should tell. The words burn on her lips and she opens her mouth, licking away blood and a trickle of ice-cold water. She stares at Yujin’s ponytail, heavy with sweat. Her dimples. Her thighs.
She should lean close, whisper it in her ear, and get it over with. Grab her backpack and walk home.
She knows what will happen if she delivers her message.
kind but dull
And Wooram does it, just to shut up that stupid voice in her head, the one that’s not quite a taunt, not quite an endearment. She leans in.
Everything after that veers off-script. Their lips mash together, and Yujin’s damp hair brushes against Wooram’s forehead. The shock it pulls Wooram back, and between their lips, there is space enough for one sentence, one secret.
Yours or mine, sister?
She chooses.
“Saranghae,” she whispers.