In Good Taste [Part Seven]
Title: In Good Taste [Part Seven]
Pairing(s): YulTi
Rating/Genre: Light R, I think? Nothing crazy; Coming Out, Girl-Meets-Girl
Disclaimer: I don’t own Soshi. I don’t own anyone, in fact. All Fiction.
Warning(s): A bit of sexy.
Author’s Notes: Guess who’s sleep deprived? :D I’m 100% sure this story will have at least one more chapter than I anticipated. Thanks for all the support so far~
Yuri
--
For a budding lesbian, on the cusp of self-discovery, the first impression of Girls’ Night (featuring real women-who-date-women!) would be intimidating, to say the least. However, Kwon Yuri couldn’t have prepared herself for this welcome:
Specifically, a hot lady in lingerie.
She considered pinching herself. Whose erotic interlude had she stumbled upon?
“You must be Yuri,” the blonde, golden from hours in a very lucky sun greeted in the doorway of an apartment blasting pop music, paying no mind to her short, lacy nightie and how it clung to her hips. “Is that for us?”
Yuri’s snapped her jaw shut and lifted the bottle at her side. “R-rum.”
The woman’s smile was wide, but differently shaped than Tiffany’s. “My girls were right; you are a looker.”
At that, another woman appeared. Yoona, someone Yuri couldn’t forget if she tried. She wore pajama bottoms with a teal-and slinky, dear god-camisole. “You had the decency to bring a gift. How courteous.” She squinted at the label. “Nice. Hope that didn’t break the bank for ya.”
Indeed, this brand of white rum’s price made her cringe through every step of the transaction. “It’s cool. Can’t show up empty-handed.”
“Move, you bullies,” the blessed voice of rescue echoed, her slim fingers batting her friends out the way. “Yuri, you got here at the perfect time. And you brought extra booze!”
And this was where Yuri felt faint.
Tiffany. In a cut-off top.
And boy shorts.
A touch of worry crept over Tiffany’s face until she glanced down at herself and laughed. “Oh, THY received a complimentary package of unmentionables from a client, so this became an impromptu pajama party.”
Er, Yuri owned several pairs of pajamas and none of them resembled that. “Those perks, though.”
“Don’t feel left out.” Tiffany relayed the bottle to Hyoyeon and drew Yuri into the apartment by hand. “We have plenty to go around.”
To think Yuri spent a manic forty minutes selecting the perfect dress and jacket for naught. Then again, the sudden host of eyes on her took priority. Tiffany’s fingers through her own helped.
“Eyes on me, ladies. Please, give a warm welcome to Kwon Yuri.” Someone lowered the music for Tiffany to introduce the members of her squad.
“Okay, so, these are my favorite ladies in the world. You know Yoona-” Summoned, Yoona raised a tidy eyebrow. Consistently intimidating, consistently bitchy. “You met Hyoyeon and her boobs a second ago.” They all laughed and Hyoyeon’s cackle was possibly louder than Tiffany’s. “You’ve briefly been acquainted to Sinbi, our ever-chipper sales associate.” From the minibar, Sinbi visibly took inventory of Yuri, head-to-toe. “Annnnd over there is Seohyun-” Tiffany gestured to a woman roughly Yoona’s height, bowing as awkwardly as Yuri. Tiffany placed her lips to Yuri’s ear, hissing, “That’s Yoona’s main squeeze as of late. She’s a newbie like you!”
New as in presence or new as in gay? Regardless, Yuri nodded eagerly.
“Yoona, use that-” Tiffany pointed to the rum, “to make our mojitos while I undress Yuri.”
A round of whooping jeers from everyone could’ve given Yuri a heart attack, forcing her to grin like a dumbass until Tiffany shut her bedroom door behind them, right as Hyoyeon yelled out, “Don't take all day in there!”
Tiffany teetered on the balls of her feet, pink-cheeked. “Sorry. I…I had a couple shots before you got here. Nervous about seeing you and all.”
She was nervous?! Yuri double blinked, stupefied. “At least you can fall back on your incredible social skills. I couldn’t even…” Her heavy gulp punctuated her claim. “I’m tongue-tied.”
“Have you been okay?”
“I guess, yeah. Now that you’ve forgiven me.”
“Did you wear that for me?”
Shyly, Yuri traced hands over her striped mini-dress. “Maybe. Is it nice enough for you?”
“One day, you’ll realize how extraordinary you are,” Tiffany replied, stepping closer and immediately raising the room’s temperature.
The room. The bedroom. Yuri’s eyes ran a quick circuit around mauve and burgundy accents, tasteful ivory-toned furniture, beauty products she couldn’t name, and tons of polaroid shots of the women a door away. And it smelled amazing, like honey and lip gloss. Grinning to break the tension, she muttered, “I want to impress you, Tiffany.”
“Done and done. I’m loving the color story you’re telling right now.” Her smile twitched. “If wearing pajamas is uncomfortable for you or like, you haven’t shaved, I’ll change into a dress, too. In solidarity.”
And miss the show? This reckoning with her newfound lust for Tiffany’s skin!? “I’m not uncomfortable. And…uh, I’m all smooth.”
“My, my, you’re persuading me to corrupt you.”
For what seemed like the zillionth time, Yuri froze in silent contemplation. Because she’d been deprived. For this long, deprived from wanting-nay, craving-another human's body so much she ached. Tiffany took the lull as a cue to rummage through the laid-out pieces and parts of skimpy, very expensive sleepwear. Most bearing their original tags.
Yuri grasped the opportunity to check Tiffany out. Those legs, the curve of her back, the artistry that was her ass.
“May I choose for you?” Tiffany asked over her shoulder. Smirking like Yuri’s dirty thoughts were projected on the wall behind them. “Shorts are fine?”
“Sure.”
While Tiffany scrutinized between available tops, jealousy pinched at Yuri. To think of all the ex-girlfriends and flings she’d brought in this very room, with the agency to hold Tiffany, to kiss her along her slender neck, to fall onto the duvet to take each other for hours. No boyfriends at home for either of them. No reason not to spend the night, to make what they’d shared real and long-standing. Somehow, all those partners goofed, fucked up their chances of keeping her. Those were the true dumbasses.
“You can change in here.”
Yuri startled from her daydream, registering a camisole similar to Yoona’s in white and the softest (and thinnest) pair of pajama shorts folded onto her palms. To even hold them felt…wrong. Like she’d break them, as ridiculous as that sounded. “Are these silk?”
Tiffany nodded, retreating to the door. “Only the finest for you.”
She’d hadn’t ever deemed herself deserving of the ‘finest’ before. “Is it wrong that I don’t want you to leave?”
“Oh, you,” the other woman sighed, sidling closer. Slowly, Tiffany slipped the light jacket off Yuri’s arms with a slowness that left chills. She arranged it tidily-as someone immersed retail life would. She dropped it to her bed. Then, clouded in palpable timidity, she reached around Yuri and zipped the dress halfway down. Staring at the floor, cheeks tinged. “Taking a break from you hasn’t helped.”
Helped what? Her feelings? Yuri searched for air, coming up short. They’d hardly been physical before, bar a few hugs. If she returned an ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ line, would it be cheesy?
To say anything on mind sufficed. Maybe even, “I’d leave Taek for you.”
“You should leave him for you.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Many things worth doing seem, well, insurmountable.” Tiffany rested her hands on Yuri’s hips. “Am I the devil if my instincts tell me to seduce you, to make you mine?”
The heat of arousal and remorse intercepted like the stitching on the hem of these shorts. “Oh, um-”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she hastily corrected herself, withdrawing to leave once more. “I can’t just steal you. You’re an intelligent, capable adult woman who chooses her own paths and I apologize. I shouldn’t be making this harder than it is.”
“I’m complicit, you know,” Yuri admitted. With no idea where that came from, she continued, playing with the material between her fingers. “For what it’s worth, meeting you has shaken up my life. I appreciate it.”
Despite her sweet smile, Tiffany’s eyes shone like glass. Holding in emotion. “Hurry and get dressed so we can catch up with the drunks out here.”
Yuri offered a necessary smile as the door closed, then, shucked off the dress and psyched herself up for an eventful evening. She’d been blessed with an apartment of experienced queer women; only a fool would squander this access.
…
Girls’ Night resumed pretty painlessly, despite any residual awkwardness with Tiffany and the pressure cooker that was her friends. They razzed each other relentlessly. Yuri would laugh, but not too loud, to not bring attention to herself for a thorough roasting (not lost on her were the parallels to Taek’s celebratory night). Yet, by the looks of it, everyone kept their distance. Even the more extroverted talkers like Hyoyeon. Maybe Tiffany warned them off harassing her.
True or not, Yuri spent the majority of the get together assisting Tiffany in her hosting duties as a token of gratitude.
And protection. Near Tiffany, she didn’t fear for her safety.
On their downtime, they lounged around and chatted about celebrities Yuri marginally recalled (besides drama actresses, not that she’d fangirl in this company) or the latest gossip about friends-of-friends.
She’d developed a silent camaraderie with Seohyun, an adjunct professor in negligee. While Yoona’s ‘main squeeze’ animatedly added to their conversations-bending some into lively, intellectual debates-she and Yuri sat side-by-side on the couch in mutual new person comfort. Every once in a while, they’d turn to each other and smile. Or make un-cringeworthy small talk. An acknowledgement of ‘I’m here for you, outsider sister.’
Funny, Yuri had sexuality in common with these women, but that doesn’t automatically build friendships. Similar interests, shared stories, and love brought them together like anyone else. Not some super-secret pact. Come to think of it, she’d never hung out with this many women without a single mention of the male gender. As Hyoyeon detailed a sordid, raunchy dating exploit for an amused (and heckling) group, Yuri realized that Sooyoung would get along with them easier than herself.
Speaking of, Sooyoung texted Yuri twice in the past hour. Taekwoon had been asking about their schedules and she, of course, lied to cover Yuri’s ass. While she had no right to be indignant, it did piss her off to have a boyfriend snooping behind her. What was he looking for?
Definitely not a gorgeous woman who shamelessly eyed Yuri’s assets as the night went on. The shorts were her idea for a reason, after all. Not that it was a bad thing.
Tiffany had been making her rounds, too. Perched on Yoona’s knee, sitting alone, squeezed onto a chair with Sinbi, and her present location: cozily wedged onto Hyoyeon’s lap. Legs slightly tangled, thighs on toned thighs. It’d be hot if Yuri weren’t bombarded by envy.
Hyoyeon’s dirty topics hadn’t been deterred. She talked around Tiffany, hands resting on the other woman’s knees with insulting ease-like, she could’ve been touching a lifeless table. But she wasn’t, damnit. Tiffany deserved to be idolized with a body like that.
While a Spotify playlist and laughter mingled, Yuri settled into the buzz of her drink. Letting her eyes travel up the slopes of Tiffany’s legs. Along the edges of shorts that left little to the imagination. Between gorgeous, long fingers holding onto a glass of cranberry juice (Tiffany opted from anymore cocktails). Then, her smooth arms, her kissable neck, those life-ruining lips, and…
Tiffany’s smoldering eyes. On Yuri.
Practically choking, Yuri darted her stare to anything in the room-in this instance, a lamp-but, she’d been caught. Which drew Tiffany to the couch, squishing them hip-to-hip. “Enjoying yourself?”
It’d been a near whisper, so Yuri matched her tone. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I shouldn’t have mixed alcohol and you, Yuri.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’ve lost my level head. I can’t get that thing you said out of my mind.”
She shut her eyes for a long moment, needing specifics. “Refresh my memory?”
“Last time on the phone,” Tiffany reached out, looping black hair away from Yuri’s ear, “when you alluded to me giving you oral.”
Woozy with want, Yuri unconsciously swayed closer, closer to red-tinted lips of fire. Cool breath, hot lips. “If…if I were single, would you-”
“Yes,” she returned in a flash. “We’d lock ourselves in my bedroom and I’d...”
Unceremoniously, Yuri’s phone vibrated. She ignored it, not wasting a glance at whoever tried to call. Her eyes stayed in a soft focus on the floor, hypnotized by Tiffany’s voice. Held prisoner in the sweet aroma of her perfume.
This was what Yuri needed. Tiffany.
“Sorry for butting in, but,” Sinbi had migrated to their couch, worming into the space next to Tiffany. “Aren’t you straight?”
As Yuri stuttered, Tiffany glared. Yoona shrugged. Seohyun dove into her half-empty drink.
Hyoyeon scooched her seat nearer, adding on, “Again with the labels, ladies.”
Ladies? Were they all…aware of Yuri’s situation?
Yuri fell into habit, staring down at her knees. Unable to quip something confidently.
“Life’s not one big, queer, ambiguous parade, Hyo,” Yoona groaned, eyes fluttering in a roll.
Hyoyeon shot a smirk her way. “It can be if you’d open your heart.”
“Hyo, Yoong, Sinbi,” Tiffany found her voice in defense. Though, she took a noticeable shift over an inch, which felt like the span of the Grand Canyon as far as Yuri was concerned. “Yuri’s sexuality is her business. Let’s not ambush her.”
“How can’t we?” Sinbi argued, flipping her haughty, skinny nose to the sky. “We’ve grilled your exes before.”
“And you see how well those ended.”
She scoffed, as if Tiffany wouldn’t be her boss come Monday. “What the hell ever. Tiff, you can’t just bring a straight chick to Girls’ Night, drool all over her, and trust we’ll sit here without questions. So, I’ll ask her directly.” Sinbi stirred her clinking glass, determined. “Would Tiffany be your first?”
First lesbian date. First lesbian hangout. First lesbian kiss. Hopefully, first lesbian orgasm…or first non-masturbatory orgasm ever.
Yuri couldn’t hold anyone’s gaze. “Yes.”
“Do you understand how damn lucky you are to have her?”
“I don’t…” Ugh, it hurt to say. “I don’t have her.”
“Why not?”
Good question. “I can’t. That’s why.”
A silence more mortifying than Sinbi’s inquisition followed. Broken only by Tiffany hustling to the kitchen, mumbling something about ice.
“Oh, splendid. Another, ‘free love,’ noncommittal anti-girlfriend,” Yoona muttered as she cleared the short, ornate coffee table. “Been there, done that, bought the souvenirs. Tiffany is all about someone for the long haul, toaster oven. Seriously.”
Before Yuri could inquire the origins of this ‘toaster oven’ moniker, Seohyun asked, “Is your family homophobic?”
Yuri batted her lashes of panic tears. Being painfully shy plus this? “I don’t know.”
Sinbi threw a manicured hand up. “Then, what do you know?”
“Who’s hungry?” Tiffany chirped too comically loud for the climate. A great bowl of shaved ice and various toppings slapped onto the table, shaking precariously. “Stuff your faces-” With a metal spoon, she scooped up fluffy ice and mango sauce, ramming it into Sinbi’s gaping mouth. “and leave my guest alone.”
Hyoyeon shoved in her own mouthful, humming delight. “Damn right.”
“Who’s been calling you?” Yoona nodded to Yuri’s phone that, unbeknownst to her, missed four calls. She read, “Taekwoon. Interesting.”
“Hon,” Seohyun reached for Yoona’s hand, lacing their fingers. “Everyone comes out at their own pace.”
“Taekwoon, who is he?” she pressed. Her lightly shadowed eyes spelled murder.
Yuri bounced a frightened stare between Tiffany (taciturn, hand on the back of Hyoyeon’s chair as if she’d collapse) and Yoona.
Dancing between fear and more fear.
Wetting her throat.
To sputter out, “He-he’s my man.”
Oh, god damnit, why term it like that?!
“I mean, my boyfriend. M-my man boyfriend.”
Yoona laughed and knocked back her drink as if she’d known all along. “As I live and breathe, oh my god!”
“No wonder your instagram is private,” Hyoyeon wondered aloud, stroking her upper lip. “So…you’re bisexual? Or biromantic?”
Even Seohyun looked shook. “You’re in a relationship already? A monogamous one?”
More expressive than words, Sinbi snickered. She dug deeper into the shaved ice, patently smug.
“If you guys want honesty, here goes.” Yuri puffed her chest. A quarter-puff, really. The best she could muster. “Okay, my…history is hetero. My boyfriend and I live together, as I’ve identified as straight my entire life until recently. Now, I accept that I’ve been dishonest with myself. I’m attracted to Tiffany, to women.” How Tiffany’s name rolled off her tongue echoed the tears finally spilling loose. “This feeling is all-encompassing, overwhelming, and fucking beautiful and, and I don’t know how to pursue it without hurting anyone.”
That got everyone to shut up.
Yuri persisted, directing these emotions to Tiffany, whose eyes had widened to full moons. “I’m aware of my over-apologizing, but I won’t stop. What I said at the restaurant was vile and only partially true. My cowardice of leaving Taek can’t be resolved on a paycheck; it’s all in here.” She touched a fist to the soft textile of her top, over her drumming heart. “I can obsess over drama upon drama, of women I’ve dreamt of and assumed it’s admiration. I can adore the pretty smile a of a restaurant attendant and pretend I hadn’t checked her out. I can hope, wish, meditate, berate myself, pray to every god. I can lie. I do lie. Yet, I can’t fake my orgasms anymore.”
Yuri's phone lit up again and Sinbi, entitled as ever, stole it, eyeing Taekwoon’s picture. “This is your man? I wouldn’t ever step out on him.”
“Read the room, girl,” Hyoyeon grumbled as Yuri snatched the phone back and bolted for Tiffany’s room.
…
Tiffany came hurtling into the bedroom seconds later, shutting the door from the beast of awkwardness. And, as if she’d attended the Church of Yuri’s Crumbling Self-Esteem, latched two arms around her from behind, holding the fragments in place. Quietly murmuring, “Shh, don’t.”
“I ruined your party,” Yuri said through a thick sob. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you know what you did out there?”
“Hijacked it in the worst possible way.”
Tiffany’s giggle tickled Yuri’s bare shoulder. “At the risk of being pedantic, I’d say an actual violent hijacking of its original definition would be the worst possible way.”
Yuri roughly wiped her cheeks dry. A smile edged onto her lips. “Your friends hate me.”
“Mmhm, a little,” she agreed-too coo-like to take offense. “They’ll overcome that. You’re new.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Do you know what you did out there?” Tiffany repeated, her arms slackening for space.
“Humiliated myself.”
“You came out to a room of people, Yuri. Four more people know your true nature.”
“Is that supposed to help?”
“When I came out to some of my old friends, they laughed in my face.” Tiffany guided them backwards to the bed. Gently, she tipped into a sitting position, securing Yuri between her legs. “Liking girls was a waste of time, according to them. Apparently, I was acting out to get all the boys’ attention and they resented me for it. Some swore I’d regret upsetting my family the way I did.”
“Guess they weren’t real friends after all.”
For that comment, Tiffany hummed in thought. “I suppose not. I’d outgrown them. And in a sense, you’ve outgrown Taekwoon.”
“I think not,” Yuri snorted. “He’s the mature one with an established career and an apartment to his name.”
“You’ve accepted an integral part of yourself. Don’t dismiss that.”
“I’m putting Sooyoung in an uncomfortable place, too.”
“She knows?”
“Yeah, I told her the night we talked on the phone.”
“So, what you’re telling me is…” Tiffany’s hands drifted to the hem of Yuri’s shorts, absently massaging. “You’ve told Yoona, Hyo, Sinbi, Seohyun, and your best friend? My Froot Loop, you’re practically bursting out the closet.”
Yuri trembled, warm and very distracted. “C-call me the Kool-Aid man of coming out.”
“I don’t feel like going back out there just yet.”
“Me neither.”
“Yuri, about the sex,” At ‘sex,’ Tiffany pulled Yuri tighter between her thighs, lips ghosting maddeningly trails onto her neck. “Everybody has different thresholds. Unique sex drives and turn-ons. I know lesbians who aren’t as obsessed with sex as me and my friends.”
Oh, jesus. She’s obsessed? Yuri bobbed her head in reply.
“Yuri, do I turn you on?”
This has to be what kills her. No doubt about it. “Tiffany…”
“I’m not, um,” a hitch of resistance touched Tiffany’s voice, “pressuring you, am I?”
Flattered that this wonder of a woman even linked the encounter with Pink Halter melted Yuri more than before. She cared. What she’d do just to spin around and kiss her. “You’re doing everything right.”
Tiffany’s lips ran along a shoulder blade. Fingers digging deeper into the flesh of Yuri’s thighs, alternating with soft caresses. “Then, say it out loud.”
This time, Yuri was on the right wavelength. Quietly moaning, “You turn me on so much.”
“You make me bad.” In a slow, smooth motion, she dragged them both downward. Flat onto the bed. Yuri still nestled, now curved onto a supple, lean body. “Yuri, you make me want to be a bad person.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
They gently rocked into each other for the next minute. Music draining through the wall forgotten beneath their ragged breathing and Yuri’s spiraling thoughts of ‘yes.’
Yes, at last. To indulge in sensuality.
To finally fucking understand the smutty quizzes she’d taken, the movie love scenes she’d fast forwarded through, the arousal that turned friends into enemies and girlfriends into cheaters. “I like you.”
Tiffany laughed. “I like you, too.”
“What’s it like…being intimate with a woman?”
“Oh, really? In this position?” Tiffany slid a hand onto Yuri’s covered breast and the other-crawling, approaching delicately- to Yuri’s center, through the silk. Fingers denting just so into a shallow cleft. “It’s um, like, really wet. And soft.”
“Sex is, or I am?”
“Both.”
“God,” Yuri groaned, a slave to how her hips boldly rotated onto Tiffany’s heat. She’d never been this proactive, this responsive.
“I can’t wait to explore your body.” Her hands moved to a safer place, across the plane of Yuri’s abs. “And mine, I want you to take out all your building frustration on me.”
She could only whimper back.
“Now, stand up before our clothes fall off.”
Talk about mixed messaging. Regardless, Yuri found her footing after one final shake of her ass. Which was a good choice because Tiffany’s responding whine jacked Yuri’s want to the moon.
As clinical as it sounded, she tallied this to a growing list of gay experiences. Yuri was learning.
While she silently stepped back into her dress and draped her jacket onto her arm (too hot for that), she kept an eye on Tiffany. Posed on the edge of the bed, long hair swept over one pale shoulder, blinking lethargically. Absorbing Yuri as if she were stark naked, as if she’d snapped and the sole remedy would be almighty sexual gratification.
Oh, shit. She’d probably be ‘gratifying’ herself once Yuri left. Her abdomen clenched at the notion.
“We-well uh,” Yuri grinned, on the verge of a fever. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.”
“We’re not going to get all weird after tonight, right?”
Tiffany shook her head, clutching the duvet. “No, Yuri.”
“I’ll catch a bus since…you know, drinking.”
“I can call a car for you.”
“No, don’t worry about it. The ride’s not long.” She stepped forward, grin increasingly wry. “I also won’t ask you to walk me to the door.”
“I can’t. My friends will see my face and…assume.”
“Makes sense.” Yuri bent lower to face her. “Until next time?”
“Sooner than later.”
Emboldened, Kwon Yuri leaned in, initiating her first girl kiss.
And, oh, if heaven were real, it’d be her current state. On the softest lips imaginable.
Tiffany kissed back with an urgency she wouldn’t imagine from someone normally so cool and in control. Hungrily, breathily with a tongue that knew what ways to switch and caress. Following pleasure more than a shy, chaste trajectory. She was into it. Explosively sexy, like splitting a rainbow atom.
Yuri had never felt so...desired. Like she’d been served on a glass platter, as Tiffany’s dessert.
When Yuri pulled away, she concluded she had no damn idea what sexual proficiency she’d wrapped herself into here.
Alas, another fear to keep Yuri up at night. A fun fear.
…
The bliss of Tiffany’s lips, her breasts pressed against Yuri, chipped like cheap nail polish as the bus stops marched nearer to her home. To Taekwoon. To more drama.
Sooyoung’s last text message said it all: “Taek dropped by. He knows we’re lying.”
And it sucked doubly for bringing Sooyoung into her foil. Forced her to deceive someone she called a friend and a colleague of her own fiancé. Sighing, Yuri sent off an apology that wouldn’t mean much until they met in-person again. Possibly at work.
Yuri wasn’t familiar with the full breadth of a ‘walk of shame,’ but this certainly seemed like one. Her ascent to their floor, pulling and adjusting clothes that weren’t askew. Eyes already brimmed to trickle into a night of tears.
Yeah, she’d reached the point of no return.
Also: yeah, Tiffany’s lips could bring world peace.
Taekwoon had left their front door unlocked. On a normal day, it’d be a nice little convenience.
Tonight, it only reminded her of one less step to face her fate.
All the lights had been turned off except in the kitchenette, illuminating their rectangular table with three mismatched chairs, all picked up somewhere around the city for free. Back when they were newly together and scraping change. Now, ironically, as Taekwoon’s company hedged closer to financial stability, their relationship crumbled. A can of Red Bull partially dented within his large hand, his slouch unbecoming of his stature. It made him more intimidating than Yuri ever thought possible.
She swallowed, taking in the minute sounds-footsteps echoing from the hall, the hum of outside traffic.
Without preamble, she shed her jacket and dress. If she was going to get reamed, might as well do it in her comfiest capris and a soft long sleeve shirt. Yuri shuffled into her house slippers, poured a mug of water from the pitcher left on the counter, noncommittally sipped, and finally, sat down. Across from her boyfriend, in the position to be scolded.
Dude, maybe she should rip the Band-Aid off.
Blurting something about being gay.
Taekwoon spoke before Yuri built up the confidence. “Where were you?”
“A party.”
Damn, that sounded even worse than she wanted.
“A small, um, a small party,” she amended.
“How small?”
“Six people, including myself.”
“Coworkers?”
Yuri met Taekwoon’s dark eyes. The amount of pain in them, the questioning, the rightful accusations stunned her. He just attempted to give her an out, because a dorky coworker party where she’d lost her phone and sense of time would rectify this. A solid lie.
But wasn’t that her problem?
“No. I don’t know most of them.”
“Most of them.” Taekwoon sipped from the silver can, shaking his head. “I uh, I gotta say this is a total shock. Wouldn’t have pegged you for…” His eyebrows fluttered for a proper descriptor and when nothing came out, Yuri intercepted.
“It’s not you.”
“Of fucking course it’s not me,” he growled in an unfamiliar, broken tone. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were unhappy? We’d go to couples therapy, I don’t know.”
Something likened to a humpback whale swooshed and walloped deep in Yuri’s stomach. She wanted to throw up. Rather, she sipped her water and stated an all-too-generic, “I want to see other people.”
Taekwoon slouched deeper, as if his cushioned chair had been slowly vortexed from the bottom. “And th-that’s it, Yuri? You’re throwing away all we have for this loser?”
Everything.
The bond, the memories, the mutual humility.
For a woman she kind of knew, who worked at a boutique for the affluent.
She loved Taekwoon. But, she liked Tiffany.
And somehow, in this twisted reality, the like outranked the love.
On the ride there, she’d googled the ‘biromantic’ word Hyoyeon brought up. How the hell had this marvelous term existed without her knowledge? It cleared up her confusion: while she loved Taekwoon for who he was, the sexual aspect of them jeopardized those feelings. It warped their romantic love into a hindrance, an affliction. These words-biromantic, demisexual, ace, graysexual, omnisexual, homoflexible-should be taught in schools, so questioning young people would know they weren’t freakish outliers. That sometimes labels reminded them they weren’t crazy this whole time, that they have a community.
Regardless of this epiphany, Taekwoon didn’t deserve to be hurt. So, she’d break this off as carefully as she could. “I don’t want a relationship full of doubts, Taek. It’ll cause strain-it does cause strain.”
“If you’d spoken up, I would’ve fixed it.”
Yuri twirled hair behind her ear and for a moment, smelled Tiffany’s perfume. “This doesn’t make it hurt less, but I really am sorry. I handled this-”
“Terribly.”
“Yeah.”
“Is it money? Am I too cheap?” Taekwoon propped both his elbows to the table, appearing at his wit’s end. “I don’t see what another man could offer above me except that. You were at our celebratory dinner. Our new clients are promising.”
Triggered by money coming up yet again, Yuri tensed. “I’m not with you for your bank account.”
“Or my apartment?”
Yuri stood abruptly, wiping tears that’d been falling since she made eyes with Taekwoon. “What do you take me for?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, babe.” Taekwoon rushed to his feet. Feet covered in his old college socks. He wasn’t the enemy, he wasn’t a monster. He over apologized and almost knocked over his Red Bull as he scrambled to pull Yuri into a tight hug. “I have nothing against your pay grade. I was being a dick.”
“We haven’t had sex.”
That admission floated in the air for several minutes. Yuri let Taekwoon hold her. Her ear pressed to his chest, memorizing his heartbeat. She’d miss him so much.
“I don’t…” he uttered, weakly perceptible, “I don’t think I believe you. With your standoffishness when it comes to making love to me, I had a feeling you were fooling around with someone else.”
Yuri pushed back, aghast. “That’s not true, Taek.”
“You’re not selling yourself well.”
“We’re just friends.”
“For now,” he insisted, head tilted up to hide his face. “I don’t know how to not be your boyfriend.”
Taekwoon shivered into a sob. And Yuri, the guiltiest she’d ever been, hugged him once more. Since she didn’t know how to not disappoint him. It’d become second nature.
Plus, this breakup had gone too easily. An avalanche would come; the other shoe would drop. She knew.
…
Needless to say, they didn’t share a bed after they awkwardly mumbled about being sleepy hours later. Yuri grabbed her pillow and a couple blankets, prepping a cot on the couch.
Sleep refused to take over. Which would suck for her morning shift.
Sometime around 4am, Taekwoon moved to the couch. And they stared at one another through the darkness, knowing they’d both be sleep deprived.
“Space for me?”
Double-meaning. Yuri shimmied over to accommodate him and his long legs bending the blanket in every direction. They laughed at this. Sad laughs.
“I still love you,” he breathed, kissing her cheek.
Yuri buried her head into his hard chest (too hard, she assessed). Moreso to avoid answering, not to prolong this contact. Taekwoon took it the way she feared, kissing her reverently, deeply. And like the previous kisses with him, she just went with it. Since it wouldn’t be like this in the future.
“Please, don’t put yourself out on the streets ‘cause of this,” he murmured onto her forehead. “Stay as long as you need.”
“That won’t be awkward?”
“Yes, but awkward is safer than homeless.”
“I have family.” Out of town, wrapped up in their own stuff. “And I have friends.”
“I know you don’t like to inconvenience them, though. Stay here until you figure out your next step. I only ask that I’ll never meet the dude. Don’t I deserve that?”
This seemed like a promise Yuri could actually keep. She nodded.
“Should we…” Taekwoon coughed a little too strongly, jutting his hips. “one last time?”
“No.”
She’d never been surer of a word in her life. No. No more heterosexual sex for her.
Because she identified as queer. A lesbian-a biromantic lesbian? She’d research further.
“Oh,” his breath stuttered. “I-I’m sorry, Yul.”
“Me, too.”
Around the sunny side of that morning, she woke up to Taekwoon crying again. Not that she was in better shape. So, she remained snuggled to his side until three snoozed phone alarms beckoned him to grump and grouch into the bathroom. Her world for this long, her other half, would start feeling like a separate entity again. Almost…scary.
She hugged her pillow, wishing for a roadmap to the least destructive method of separating. Wondering if she’d made a grave mistake. Hoping that eventually, she’d have the nerve to dwell on nicer things. Like Tiffany’s early morning text of a single heart. And coy memories of wiping off Tiffany’s sweet, smeared lip gloss.
A new life, she could live.
Something true. Something totally tangible.
[A/N: A definition]
Toaster oven: I believe it originated in the 90s, from Ellen's sitcom, after she came out as a lesbian. In lesbian fiction/pop culture, it refers to a 'straight' woman having gay relations and/or realizing her gayness.
Muah~~