SBB 2016 ENTRY #16: AFTERLIFE (2/8)
Title: Afterlife (2/8)
Pairing: Minjung/bigender!Jonghyun
Rating: R--NC-17
Genre: Angst / Horror / Sci-Fi
Warnings: Character death, gore, body horror, prescription drug abuse, suicide attempt, mention of self-harm, mentions of food
Final Word Count: 74,000~
She woke to the muted murmur of low voices in the next room, and she blinked up at the ceiling, disoriented by the noise and the dim room and the slowly receding fog of sleep. She glanced at the clock. Almost 6 p.m. She groaned and sat up, automatically undoing her braid and running her fingers through her hair to smooth it. The door opened behind her; she turned to see Junghee cautiously slip inside.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Junghee said. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Be right out,” Minjung said dully, looking at the tiled floor under her socked feet. She waited until she heard the door shut behind Junghee, and then she buried her face in her hands. She breathed once, twice, and then heaved her body up from the bed and darted out of the bedroom into the bathroom, not looking at the kitchen as she passed it. She wet a washcloth with cool water, patted her reddened eyes, and did her best to hide the rest of the damage with makeup. After combing her hair back into a new ponytail, and leveling a stern glare at her reflection, she exited the bathroom to rejoin the others.
Kibum and Taemin were already at the table as she walked in. Taemin slouched in a chair, wearing ripped black jeans and a black T-shirt that had six open-mouthed yellow Pac-Man heads arranged in two neat columns under the words SIX PAC, in all caps. He was focused intently on his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. A game, she thought, judging by the rapidfire flashes on the screen, and the muted noise of explosions. Kibum was standing at the head of the table facing away from her, in frayed cutoff light denim jeans, and a filmy white T-shirt, the wide collar showing off his shoulders and the muscles of his neck. His glossy tasseled black loafers stood in a neat pair next to Taemin’s scuffed black Converse at the door. The long fingers of one of his hands curled around the rounded top rail of a chair as he talked to Junghee, who was out of Minjung’s line of sight on the other side of the counter in the kitchen. She heard the oven door creak open, and the scrape of the metal rack inside.
“Hi babe!” Junghee said, as she appeared round the corner, flushed from the heat of the oven, and holding the pizza in two mitted hands. The oven mitts engulfed her arms almost to the elbow, and she had rolled up the short sleeves of her white crop top until it was practically sleeveless. She was barefoot again, walking on tiptoe across the cool tiles. She put the pizza on the table and smiled at her. It seemed false and too bright to Minjung, and it angered her.
She smiled tightly. “Hi.” She did not miss the way Kibum’s eyes raked over her girlfriend, and lingered for just a moment at her tiny waist. Junghee was wearing her cutoff shorts again--her favorite, because she said they made her legs look longer--and her entire outfit seemed an echo of Kibum’s. They both looked fresh and summery, with an easy casual grace that suggested effortlessness, though Minjung knew both of them would deliberate over the tiniest particulars of anything they wore. By contrast, Minjung felt frumpy in her navy blue running shorts and a baggy maroon soccer jersey left over from her school days.
She nodded to Kibum and Taemin as a greeting, then glanced at the table, and their empty glasses. “What are you both drinking?”
“Junghee told me you guys still have some of the beer I brought over for the Labor Day party,” Taemin said. “I’ll take one of those.”
“Just water for me.” Kibum smiled at Minjung, but his eyes were wide, and roving, the pupils dilated. His fingers tapped ceaselessly against the chair rail. His stare fixed on her again, and something in the intensity of it unnerved her.
She blinked. “Beer and water it is.”
It was a relief to busy herself for a few moments, to pour everyone their drinks and set out silverware, but then there was nothing left to do but sit, and, after a longing glance at the sink full of dirty dishes that would have kept her occupied for another twenty minutes, she settled herself in her chair.
She sat in her usual spot, and after serving everyone, Junghee sat down next to her, just around the corner of the table, her knees bumping Minjung’s once as she settled in. Taemin was on Minjung’s other side, and across from her sat Kibum, still drumming his fingers.
Junghee and Taemin dug in immediately, but Minjung only toyed with her food, her fork spearing through the layer of chunky tomato sauce and then twisting idly in the thick cheese. She looked up at Junghee and immediately regretted it--her girlfriend was gazing at Kibum, entirely absorbed, her face alight, her eyes sparkling, her pretty teeth parted as she laughed at something he was saying. Junghee could make anyone talking to her feel as if they were the only person in the world who mattered to her in that moment, as if they were the sun and she a devoted flower, bright and open and hungry for their light.
Minjung had grown so accustomed to receiving that look that she had begun to believe it--that she was the center, with Junghee in orbit. But now as she watched, feeling small and numb and far away, Minjung realized she’d had it all the wrong way around. She was the one who needed Junghee’s light. And she wasn’t sure Junghee needed her the same way.
She had never really minded before, the way Junghee glowed with warmth and affection around everyone she loved, but now, shut out in the cold, she resented it.
“How is Jinki doing?” she asked, in a lull in the conversation.
Kibum turned to her. “Hmm?”
“Your boyfriend?” she prodded. “Or is it your fiancé now? I can’t keep track.”
“Boyfriend,” Kibum said, with a polite smile. “And he’s doing well. He’s the principal now at Crestview, did I tell you?” He turned back to Junghee. “Youngest principal in the history of the school.”
“Wow,” Junghee said. “That’s amazing.” She patted his hand, and Minjung watched the way Junghee’s fingertips lingered against his skin before Kibum changed the subject.
Taemin nudged her, murmured something. She shook her head and tore her eyes away from the other two. “Hmm?”
“You okay?” he said, his voice somewhat indistinct around a mouthful of cheese.
“Yeah, I’m--” she shook her head again, waving him off. “Still just a bit hungover.”
Taemin’s eyes flicked from her to Junghee and Kibum and back. “Sorry to hear that.”
Minjung glanced back at Junghee, whose rapt gaze had not moved from Kibum, who was now telling her in detail about the play he had most recently seen on Broadway. Minjung felt a little sick, and she returned, miserably, to the slice of pizza that she was slowly mauling with her fork. She still had yet to take a single bite.
“It’s good,” Taemin encouraged.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I just don’t feel that great, I guess.”
Taemin set down his fork. His slice was mostly crust now, and he crammed it into his mouth with an efficiency that was both admirable and a bit disturbing. He took a large gulp of his beer. “Hey,” he said, a little out of breath. “Junghee told me you were thinking about getting some new plants for the garden out front.”
Minjung stared at him. “And?”
“And,” he continued, twirling his hand around as though it were tracing the circumference of a small wheel. “Don’t you want to...show me where you’d plant them? Or something?”
She raised an eyebrow, nonplussed. “Okay?”
“Come on,” he said. “I need...I need some air. Let’s go.”
“It’s kind of hot out,” she replied, but he had already shoved back his chair and headed toward the door, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she followed him.
He walked quietly to the end of the driveway, beer in hand, and then turned to look at her. She stopped midway down.
“They’d go here.” She gestured to the rock garden to her left.
“What?”
“The Birds of Paradise,” she said. “They’d go here.”
“Oh right. Yeah.” He walked back up the driveway, and stood next to her. “Looks like a nice spot.”
She folded her arms. “Cut the crap already, Taemin.”
“Hmm?” The innocent smile he flashed at her instantly wavered under her glare.
“Why did you actually drag me out here? You don’t care about my plants, and it’s far too hot to ‘get some air,’ so what is this actually about?”
He gave her half a smile, and took another sip of his beer. “I don’t know, it’s just fucking awkward to watch you look like you want to murder two of my friends?”
She opened her mouth, shut it, and bit her lip. “I don’t want to murder them,” she said finally.
“Oh good,” Taemin said flatly. “I feel all better now. Glad we cleared that up.”
“Junghee and I just have some things to work through, which, by the way, is none of your business.” Minjung hoped her tone was icy enough to put him off.
He shrugged. “Of course.”
“Minjung,” he added, as she turned back to the house. “Kibum isn’t going to sleep with her.”
She whipped around. “Excuse me?”
“That’s what you’re worried about isn’t it?” he said. “I just wanna tell you that you don’t have to worry.”
“What makes you so sure?” The question leapt out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“Well, for one,” he said, eyeing her meaningfully, “they wouldn’t just do that. Neither of them are secretive people, and they’ve fucked before, and you knew about it, because they told you ahead of time.”
“And two,” he held up two fingers, forestalling her interruption. “Kibum is a little too busy this weekend anyway.” He smirked. “Fucking me, to be precise. Well, it goes both ways, but my point is--he’s hardly denying himself anything.”
“But this morning...I thought you were joking,” she said.
“No, I mean, I was, but--” he fixed his gaze on a point a little above her and to her left, and ran his tongue across his teeth. “I thought you’d figured me out for a second, with your comment about me sleeping with Kibum, and then it was just so funny that I--” his embarrassed grin vanished as she glowered at him, and he continued in a subdued tone. “It just seemed like the wrong time to tell you at that point.”
Minjung felt a cold chill of anger run down her spine. “So, your little fuck session...this is supposed to reassure me?”
“...Yes?” he faltered.
“All I’m hearing is that Kibum isn’t monogamous.”
“Um, obviously,” he laughed nervously. “I definitely got ample proof of that last night.”
She took a step toward him, and he stepped back automatically. “Junghee told me he was, though. That that’s why they broke up in the first place.”
“There--there must be some misunderstanding,” he stammered. “Kibum never--he wouldn’t--”
“There’s no misunderstanding,” she snapped. “Kibum lied.” Her vision was going hazy. “Or Junghee did.”
“Junghee wouldn’t--” Taemin tried again.
“Just--” she held up a hand. “Just stop, okay? Nothing you say is helping.” She felt sick and dizzy and her head was pounding again. The heat, she thought dully. She had to get back inside. She turned, but Taemin grabbed her elbow.
“Junghee wouldn’t lie to you,” he said. “She wouldn’t do that.”
She wrenched her elbow free. “You thought Kibum wouldn’t either, and yet here we are. One of them did.”
Taemin shook his head. “Junghee wouldn’t, though. I know her.”
“I know her,” Minjung jabbed angrily at her own chest for emphasis. “We’ve been together for over eight years.”
Taemin extended his hands to her, pleadingly. “Which is why you should trust her.”
“Do not,” she stepped forward and pointed at him, her forefinger coming very close to his face as he winced, “lecture me on how to handle my shit.”
“It’s not a lecture, I just think that--” he burst out, but Minjung stopped him. “That’s enough.”
She was numb as she strode back up the driveway, her vision narrowing to a channel just wide enough for her to see her next steps. She felt removed from her own body as she watched herself fumble with the handle of the door. It burned, but she barely felt it. The handle turned, and she let herself back in, feeling her mouth turn up at the corners when the other two looked at her. A reflex. She hoped it looked like a smile.
“Everything okay?” Junghee said.
“Yeah just,” she waved her hand, hoping the gesture looked casual. “Getting some air.”
Junghee frowned skeptically, but Minjung was saved from further questioning by the reappearance of Taemin, who kicked off his shoes and slouched back down in his seat and grinned lazily at them all before launching into the latest story about his incompetent coworker at the deli.
Minjung carried her plate into the kitchen. The slice of pizza was cold; the sauce was running along the sides and the cheese had congealed into an unappetizing mess. She curled her lip in disgust, and tipped the plate to dump its contents into the trash can. She covered it with her discarded napkin, and set to work cleaning all the dishes, glad of the excuse to look down and tune everyone else out.
The conversation ebbed and flowed beyond her, but she could hear nothing but static, an onslaught of sounds that meant nothing to her, slowly drowned out by the roaring in her own ears. She scrubbed at a particularly tough spot on a plate, and for just a moment, her entire world was that spot, and the way her knuckles dug through the thick sponge. The water was running, she realized. A waste. She turned it off, and kept scrubbing.
The voices peaked, there was a flurry of excitement, a laugh, and then Junghee was next to her in the kitchen. “I think we’re going to go out for a bit, babe.” Her wide smile was belied by the anxious furrow that appeared between her brows as she searched Minjung’s face.
“What happened to our night in?” Minjung said quietly. She grabbed the dish towel hanging on the oven door handle, and twisted it between her hands as she dried them.
“Oh, there’s always tomorrow!” Junghee’s laugh tinkled, but the worry lines deepened. “Kibum wanted us to take him to the Strip.”
Minjung snorted. “Well, I guess it’s settled then. If Kibum wants it.” She said the last under her breath, but Junghee still heard it, and Minjung watched as the barb struck home, and her girlfriend’s eyes widened with confusion and hurt. The relish of her own spite turned bitter in her mouth.
“We’re probably just going to end up at Club Azul,” Taemin drawled from her other side.
“I know you’re not feeling well,” Junghee said softly. “You don’t have to go if you’re too tired.”
Don’t bother coming, Minjung heard. Don’t make a fool of yourself, hanging around where you’re not wanted.
She almost gave in then, as she felt herself begin to collapse around her own soft hurt, the way a fruit caves in when it has gone bad in the middle. She’d stay home and curl up in a blanket and nurse her loneliness, and then Junghee would come home, and see her pain, and comfort her.
Except, her brain flickered with anger. Junghee didn’t care. Junghee was probably excited to get away, spend an evening out having fun with friends, instead of at home with Minjung, with her strict routines and set bedtimes. Sober, rigid, boring, monogamous, wet blanket Minjung. So unlike Kibum, who was sophisticated and artistic and witty and vibrant, who could make Junghee come alive with one glance, one touch.
She could see it so clearly, the way they’d flirt with each other at the bar, the way Kibum would lead Junghee out on the dance floor, the way they would look at each other, the way they would touch each other, the way they wanted to touch each other, when Minjung wasn’t looking.
“Yeah, don’t worry, Minjung, I’ll keep an eye on them.” Taemin broke into her thoughts as if he had read them. “I’m a great babysitter.”
“Actually.” Minjung bestowed a sweet smile on each of them in turn. “I’d love to go.”
She finished drying her hands on the towel she had been clutching in her hands, and then brushed past them both and into her room to change.
---
In the end, they all opted to drive straight to the club.
“There isn’t really anything new to see along the Strip anyway,” Taemin said. “It’s not like anything major has changed since you left.” Minjung looked briefly at him in the rearview mirror as he sprawled in the back seat, his legs wide open, his head lolling a bit against the headrest. “Still the same old, same old, you know?” He was nursing another beer that he’d snatched from the fridge just before they left, and he was dangling the bottle carelessly between his fingers as he talked, despite Minjung’s repeated admonitions that he ought to keep all open bottles down and out of sight. “Everything is still loud and dirty and cheap, and it’s still crawling with Elvis impersonators.”
Kibum sat next to him, separated only by the narrow middle seat, his legs crossed and an amused smile playing on his lips. “Look at you, the world-weary cynic.”
Taemin shrugged. “That’s what happens when you work retail and food service in Vegas for like, fuckever.”
Kibum leaned over and muttered something in a tone too low for Minjung to catch. Taemin simply laughed and returned to his beer.
Minjung turned to Junghee, but her girlfriend was sagging against the car window, her cheek against the glass as she stared silently up at the garish lights strung along the city skyline. Gone was the false cheerful bravado of dinner; now she just looked tiny and soft and sad, and something in Minjung twisted, first with guilt and then with anger. Guilt that she had hurt Junghee, and anger that it was so easy for Junghee to make her feel like the aggressor in every situation.
Still, one look at the sloping curve of Junghee’s slumped shoulders, and she wanted nothing more than to be back at home with her girlfriend, just the two of them, soaking in the remnants of the sunset as it filtered in through the slats on their bedroom window blinds, as Minjung lost herself in the soft warmth of Junghee’s skin, and the way it responded to her touch.
The stoplight was red, and her fingers crept across the gearshift, aching to touch Junghee’s hand, and then the stoplight turned green again, and she withdrew, and pulled through the intersection.
---
Club Azul was notorious for never having enough parking. Though it had been rebranded and remodeled in the last few years, the gay club still sat on the same small lot that it had occupied since the 90s, just two blocks off the Strip. Minjung circled the club once, looking for spots, but to no avail.
“Let me just drop you off out front,” she offered, circling back. The club reared above her, a tall broad white silo with the words Club Azul blazoned across the front in neon blue script. Two tall palm trees bracketed the black awning that sheltered the entryway.
But the others protested that they would prefer to stick together and walk over with her, and Minjung accepted, without the perfunctory argument that she normally would have made.
The parking garage a few blocks away from the club was almost full, and Minjung had to drive up six levels before she found a tiny spot to squeeze into. “Is this even a spot?” she muttered, half to herself, as she opened the door as far as she could and eased herself out through the narrow opening.
“It is now,” Taemin laughed, still clutching his beer as he got out. “I’m sure you’re fine.”
“Will you put that away?” she hissed.
“Will you relax, please? Christ,” he said, deliberately taking a swig right in front of her. “It’s Vegas, I’m not gonna get arrested for walking around with an open bottle of beer.”
“But they’re also not going to let you into the club with outside alcohol,” Kibum countered.
“...True.” Taemin looked at his bottle, considering his options. “Okay, give me two seconds.”
“No, we’re going,” Minjung said firmly, as she locked her door. She started across the parking garage toward the elevators in the far corner, Kibum and Junghee right on her heels.
“Oh my god, okay!” she heard behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Taemin tilt the bottle up to his mouth to drain its contents and then shove it back inside the car and shut the door. He trotted after her.
“Did you lock it?” she called.
“Shit,” he said, and ran back.
The walk to the club was a straight stretch along a side street, past a hotel, an autobody shop, and a drycleaner’s. Minjung could feel the club even before she could hear it, the vibrations from the music traveling through the ground and cutting through the noise of the traffic and the crowds along the strip. Though the parking lot was full, the line wasn’t particularly long, and they shuffled indoors, obediently holding their wrists out for the pink wristband that granted them entry and access to the bar.
It was hot inside the club and the air was thick with the suffocating humidity of hundreds of bodies packed together, breathing and sweating together. The bass throbbed through the club, rippling through Minjung’s body, and she plugged her ears automatically as she tried to adjust. The combined scent of so many people in one place was overpowering, each one doused in some cocktail of sweat and alcohol and the overly strong fragrance of their deodorant or cologne. It was cloying, and a little sickening, and Minjung breathed through her mouth, trying to ignore the underlying scent of urine from the bathrooms to her left, and the way her sandals stuck slightly to the gritty floor.
“We’re blocking the entryway,” Kibum said, in her ear, and she moved forward, head down, elbowing her way through the press of bodies, until they all reached a tiny clearing in the crowd.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” he said. “Do you want anything?”
Minjung shook her head, but Junghee nodded. “Vodka?” she smiled hopefully.
“Should you really be drinking after last night?” Minjung said quietly, leaning over to her girlfriend, but Junghee waved her off. “Just one drink isn’t gonna kill me, Mom.” The smile that played across her lips was teasing, but her eyes were hard, and the tilt of her jaw was defiant.
Minjung pressed her lips together firmly to hold back the retort that sprang to her tongue. “I’ll get it for you,” she said finally, sliding her credit card out of her sports bra. It was already uncomfortably clammy from the sweat gathering on her tits, and she wiped it against her black tank top.
Kibum saw the gesture. “Put that away,” he chided, touching her shoulder lightly with his fingertips. She flinched, and one of his eyebrows twitched up by a hair. He pulled his hand back. “I got this.” He smiled generously, and put up one hand to quiet Minjung’s protests. “It’s the least I can do to show my appreciation for everyone’s hospitality.”
Minjung stared at him, feeling cornered, her shoulders tense as she searched for some pretext to turn down Kibum’s offer without sounding rude. But nothing came to mind, and she gave a begrudging nod, and trailed after the other three as they made their way to the bar.
“Double shot for the princess,” Kibum said, handing off the slender glass to Junghee, who bit her lip, and smiled up at him through her lashes as she took it. Minjung knew this smile well--the shy quirk of the lips, the cheekbones becoming more prominent, dimples appearing out of nowhere, eyes widening innocently, but with a spark of mischief. It was devastating, magnetic, and Junghee knew it. Minjung clenched one of her fists, briefly, and then forced her fingers to straighten again.
“Thank you,” she saw Junghee mouth, her eyes twinkling, and Kibum’s hand came up, knuckles brushing her arm in a light caress.
Minjung felt sick.
Kibum turned to her. “For you?” he asked, leaning back against the bar, his dark eyes flicking to meet hers, and then darting away again.
She shook her head. “I’ll pass,” she said coldly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Taemin looking at her. His eyes, when she glanced at him, were sober and knowing, and it galled her, the way he seemed to have a peephole into her private thoughts. But it was just for a split second, and then he turned to Kibum, swatting him playfully across the chest with the back of his hand. “Where’s my drink, rich boy?”
“Oh, getting bossy, are we?” Kibum teased. “What’ll it be? You old enough for a juice box or do you still need a sippy cup?”
“Just get something I can’t afford on my budget,” Taemin shot back.
“Oh honey.” Kibum patted his face patronizingly. “That could be anything.”
Taemin flicked his nose. “Shut up and get me a drink; I’m too sober for your shit.”
He sniffed appreciatively at the full plastic cup of beer the bartender handed him. “Nice.”
Kibum rolled his eyes, and downed his own double shot of tequila. He looked around. “Where’s Junghee?”
Minjung blinked, and looked at where her girlfriend had been a few moments before, but Junghee was gone, her empty shot glass resting on the edge of the bar.
“Bathroom?” Taemin suggested.
She nodded. “Yeah, let me just--” she made her way to the bathroom, jostled by the crowd as she forced her way through. There was a long line stretching out of the women’s restroom; she bypassed it entirely, striding to the bathroom entrance. “I’m looking for someone,” she threw over her shoulder, to quiet the protests of those in line.
All the stalls were full, and Minjung squatted on her heels, and scanned the floor underneath. But there was no sign of Junghee’s white high-heeled sneakers, and she stood back up, brushing past the line one more, ignoring the disgruntled epithets as she exited the bathroom and returned to the bar. This time, it was Kibum and Taemin who had vanished.
She found them at the edge of the dance floor, drinks in hand as they both gazed into the crowd.
She caught Taemin by the elbow. “Have you seen her?”
He looked at her. “Yeah…”
Kibum pointed into the crowd. “We found her.”
Minjung followed the line of his arm with her eyes. She saw nothing at first, just an indistinct scramble of bodies moving against each other, and then she caught a flash of white, and a halo of pink.
Junghee’s body was caught between two others, her back against someone’s bare muscular chest, their large hands cupping her hipbones, the other with their hands in her hair as they ground against her slowly. The music shifted, the rhythm dropping to a relatively hushed throb, the lights dimming, turning blue, as a soft soprano voice ghosted over the beat, sensual and sweet. Minjung recognized the song; it was on one of Junghee’s playlists that she played sometimes at home, as she did her makeup in front of the mirror before a night out. Minjung would watch her from the bathroom doorway as Junghee leaned over the sink to get a good look at her eyeliner, as her baggy T-shirt rode up over her bare thighs, and dragged across the dusting of makeup on the edge of the counter.
“This is why I never wear my going out clothes when I do my makeup,” she’d said once, as she examined the streaks of eyeshadow and foundation on her T-shirt. “It doesn’t matter what I get on this sloppy old thing.”
Minjung had never been able to articulate just how much she loved Junghee in “that sloppy old thing,” and how she loved seeing the Junghee that almost no one else saw: the soft, unraveled version, with sleepy eyes, and mussed hair, and endearingly ill-fitted clothes.
All these memories crowded into her mind now, and were turned inside out, one by one, as she heard Junghee’s song, and watched her girlfriend let the music take her, her eyes shut in bliss, her body undulating naturally between the others, one of her small hands cupping the neck of the person behind her, as she grinded back against them. Their hands wandered over the taut planes of her stomach, and toyed with the edge of her crop top, and she only bit her lip, and arched into their touch.
“Look at her go,” Kibum mused idly. Minjung looked over at him; he was sipping meditatively on his drink, his eyes never leaving Junghee. “I taught her that.”
His smile hinted at too many memories of his own, and Minjung allowed herself a moment of pure loathing as she watched his self-satisfied expression, before Taemin broke in.
“Well, I, for one,” the younger man said, “am ready to show you up on the dance floor.”
He tugged on Kibum’s hand, and the other man laughed. “Jesus, let me finish my drink.”
“Bottoms up,” Taemin commanded, tipping the cup toward Kibum’s lips.
“Okay, okay.” Kibum tossed the rest back in one go and Taemin stacked their empty cups and handed them to Minjung.
“Join us?” Taemin asked, already pulling Kibum toward the floor.
Minjung shook her head. “I need to...get some water.”
He nodded, and drew Kibum to a spot on the dance floor some distance away from Junghee, and Minjung had just enough time to see him wind his arms around Kibum’s neck, before the crowd engulfed them, and they were lost to sight.
She stood there, slowly crumpling the plastic cups in her hand, and then she looked back at Junghee. Her girlfriend’s eyes were open, her steady gaze meeting Minjung’s own, before she deliberately looked away, letting her eyelids flutter closed again, as she shut Minjung out.
Minjung’s stomach clenched, and after one last pained glance, she turned away, her vision blurring as she pushed through the crowd.
“Whiskey,” she said, when she reached the bar. She gulped down the drink when it was offered, her nostrils flaring wide with the harsh sting of the liquor. “Another please,” she choked out, setting her glass back down. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
The second drink she took more slowly, but she could already feel the alcohol as it hit her fast and hard, racing through her stomach and into her blood, sending a rush of heat through her veins. She was vaguely aware that she would regret this later, but right now it felt good--the way it calmed her, and gave her a heady buoyant confidence, steeled by the sudden focus of her anger.
She returned to the dance floor, plunging straight through the dancers until she found Junghee. “Excuse me,” she said, as she cut in, slipping her arm around Junghee’s waist, and ignoring the disgruntled muttering of the other two as they disappeared into the crowd. Her girlfriend’s eyes snapped open.
“Hi,” Junghee said uncertainly.
“Hello babe,” she replied, her arm curling more tightly around Junghee’s waist. “Mind if I have this dance?”
Junghee shook her head. “Of-of course not.” She arched into Minjung, clinging to her shirt as Minjung drew her closer. The music evened out, grew mellower. Gone was the Junghee who had danced with abandon between two strangers, now she seemed small and soft and a bit clumsy in Minjung’s arms, as she rocked back and forth, slow dancing, her fingers hesitant as they traced Minjung’s collar. She leaned in, pleading silently, slipping past every one of Minjung’s defenses, until Minjung relented and met Junghee’s mouth with her own. She ran her hand up the back of Junghee’s neck, cradling the back of her head in her palm as her long fingers tangled in her hair.
Junghee’s lips tasted of salt and vodka, and Minjung savored the bitterness, licking gently at her chapped lips until they felt full and soft against her own. She felt, rather than heard, her girlfriend’s soft moan as her lips parted, and her tongue darted out to meet Minjung’s, touching it coyly, and then retreating, as Minjung groaned, and pursued, her tongue exploring the depths of Junghee’s mouth, and tracing the edge of her teeth, flicking against the exquisite points of her canines. Her girlfriend melted against her, her hands running over Minjung’s broad shoulders, and tracing the curve of her throat.
She broke the kiss, but just barely, her lips hovering near Minjung’s as she caressed Minjung’s cheekbones with her thumbs. Her eyes were soft, dark, unreadable, and then she leaned back in, kissing along Minjung’s throat, heedless of whoever might be watching. She pressed a kiss at the corner of Minjung’s jaw, and tugged her earlobe into her mouth. “I want you,” she whispered desperately, and Minjung’s stomach flipped at the words.
“Come with me,” she muttered indistinctly, kissing Junghee once more before she took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom.
The line was shorter now, and they shuffled forward with it. Minjung was trembling with impatience, clutching Junghee’s hand in her own, their fingers interlaced and a little clammy, as if they were back in college, still touching each other with the shy reverent awkwardness of first times. They only had to wait a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. But at last they were at the front of the line, and Minjung drew Junghee into the fourth stall down. They stood for a moment, facing each other, in silence, and then Junghee reached out and cupped Minjung’s face in her hands. “Baby,” she murmured gently, and the last eggshell-thin shield protecting everything soft and vulnerable inside Minjung crumbled, and dissolved, and she stepped forward, feeling tears start to her eyes. She looked down, embarrassed, and exhaled slowly, until the sharp sting in the corners of her eyes eased. Her fingertips skated over Junghee’s bare tummy, and she ached with the need to touch her; to not just touch her, but meld herself to her, closing the distance entirely.
She did not trust herself to speak, so she simply kissed her again, fiercely, tenderly, and sank to her knees, heedless of the grimy floor, her hands trailing down Junghee’s sides as she knelt. Her fingers traced the waistband of Junghee’s shorts, and paused at the button. She looked up, waiting for permission, and Junghee nodded and undid the button herself, unzipping the shorts until Minjung could see the pastel peach of her cotton panties peeping through. Her breath hitched as she saw it, and she took over for Junghee, pulling the denim shorts down to mid-thigh.
The shorts were tight and small, and trapped Junghee’s thighs, holding them close together as Minjung admired them, caressing the soft skin of each inner thigh. Junghee had already stained through her panties, and Minjung leaned in and nuzzled at the damp spot, breathing in Junghee’s scent.
Her long fingers curled around Junghee’s thighs, prying them apart as much as she could as she licked along the soft cotton, the wet spot spreading slowly through the fabric as she tasted her girlfriend, the musky taste strong against her tongue. She slid her fingers up Junghee’s thighs, and hooked them around the thin waistband of her panties, rolling them down until they fell gently on top of the shorts. She looked up; Junghee was gazing down at her with the same soft, unfathomably deep expression in her dark eyes, and Minjung ached with her want. She pressed a series of kisses to each thigh, working her way up until her mouth was just shy of her prize. She cupped Junghee in her hand, massaging her gently as her fingertips brushed closer to her hole. She was rewarded with a soft gasp, and she reached up with her other hand, spreading her fingers against the pliant skin of Junghee’s stomach, until she felt the hesitant flutter of Junghee’s fingers against her knuckles. Her breath ghosted against Junghee’s cock, and Junghee’s hand gripped hers suddenly, as Minjung took the head into her mouth.
Junghee wasn’t one for blow jobs, generally; it brought back too many bad memories of when she was younger, before she met Minjung, before either of them started HRT. Besides, she couldn’t sustain an erection for very long now even if she wanted to. And Minjung had had quite enough of giving blow jobs back in her college days, when she still dated cis gay boys, and considered it normal to feel a vague sense of nausea and exhaustion when they forced her head down on their cocks until she struggled not to choke.
But Junghee’s cock was beautifully soft and sensitive and responsive, the head velvety and warm and full as Minjung swirled her tongue around it, and then probed the slit, Junghee’s taste growing stronger in her mouth. Her girlfriend moaned a little, her head falling back against the wall of the stall with a muffled thump. Encouraged, Minjung pulled her hand free of Junghee’s legs, and put two fingers into her mouth, her fingertips grazing the head of Junghee’s cock as she licked all around them, and then withdrew them again. She slid her hand back between Junghee’s legs, fingers walking along her crack until she reached her hole.
“Fuck--” Junghee groaned, as Minjung’s tapered fingertips teased her rim, and then breached it, Junghee relaxing instantly to give her fingers easy access as they slid inside. The angle was slightly awkward, with Minjung’s wrist trapped between Junghee’s thighs, but the length of her fingers made up for it, and she gently scissored her open, as her tongue continued to work over and around the sensitive head of Junghee’s cock.
Junghee was trembling, her thighs straining as she tried to spread them wider, restrained by the stiff denim of the waistband that held her like a vice. Her back was pressed against the stall, and she slid down a few centimeters, trying to get more of Minjung’s teasing fingertips. The grip of her fingers was so tight on Minjung’s hand that it hurt, but Minjung didn’t care, her only thought to please her girlfriend.
Junghee liked it wet, and so did Minjung, and soon Junghee’s entire cock and her tender sac were slick with spit, soft and warm and wet against Minjung’s thirsty tongue, as it glided over every inch, and then returned to the head, worshiping it, savoring it, humming as she felt herself get wet. Junghee’s other hand tangled in her hair, as she gave herself up to Minjung’s tongue, moaning openly. Minjung popped off to steal a glance upwards; Junghee’s head was thrown back, the loose hem of her crop top fluttering as her chest heaved.
“I love you,” Minjung whispered.
She thought Junghee hadn’t heard her, but then her girlfriend squeezed her hand, and caressed her knuckles with her thumb, and Minjung felt a little dizzy, as her chest swelled so that she could hardly breathe. She leaned back in and suckled gently on Junghee’s head, the pressure of her tongue steadily increasing in strength as broken moans floated down from Junghee’s lips.
When Junghee came, it was with a soft cry, her hole clenching around Minjung’s fingers, her thighs shaking. Minjung pulled her fingers out but stayed on her, soothing her with her tongue, lapping up her slick musk, until Junghee squeezed her hand again.
“Baby,” she pleaded, and Minjung gave her a few more kitten licks, before she turned and buried her face in the soft juncture below Junghee’s hipbone, as her girlfriend smoothed her hair with her fingers. Her hands played over the back of Junghee’s thighs, and she wished that she could stay like this forever, in this moment of gentle certainty, shut away from the rest of the world.
But her reverie was shattered by the loud angry pounding of a fist against the door, and she jerked her head back. “Fuck off,” she shouted.
“People waiting out here,” came the response.
“Give me a fucking minute,” she snapped, and with an indistinct grumble, the person outside moved on.
Minjung turned back to Junghee, but the moment was broken, and she stood up, unsteadily, clinging to her girlfriend’s hand as Junghee helped tug her to her feet. Junghee pulled her shorts back up, and fastened them, her eyes never leaving Minjung’s face. She reached one tentative hand up and curled it around the back of Minjung’s neck, pulling her close. “I love you,” she said, against Minjung’s lips.
And for just a moment, Minjung could fully believe it, and she placed one shaking palm against Junghee’s cheek, and kissed her, trying to drive every thought from her mind except the warmth of Junghee’s lips against her mouth, and the way Junghee’s body arched into her needily.
Junghee broke the kiss at last. “I guess we’d better stop hogging the stall,” she said, her smile wobbly.
“Yeah,” Minjung said, leaning her forehead against Junghee’s. She made no effort to move, but Junghee pressed one last kiss to the tip of her nose. “We can continue this at home,” she promised lightly, and Minjung nodded, and followed her out of the stall.
They washed their hands briskly, sharing a shy smile in the mirror’s reflection, and Minjung hastened to grab an extra of the coarse brown paper towels in the dispenser. She handed it to Junghee, who bit her lip, her eyes smiling up at Minjung. Minjung took her hand, and kissed it impulsively, before lacing their fingers together and making their way back out of the restroom, ignoring the laughter of those still in line.
“Let’s go home,” Minjung said. The second wave of the alcohol had begun to hit, and she felt light-headed, and a little sick. Belatedly, she remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything. She groaned. “I’m tired.”
Junghee nodded. “We just need to find Kibum and Taemin first.”
They searched the bar first, and then the dance floor, but the other two were nowhere in sight.
“We could text them,” Minjung began, but then Junghee froze and her grip tightened painfully on Minjung’s hand.
Minjung looked at her, and then in the direction of her gaze. She couldn’t make out anything notable at first, as her eyes roved through the milling crowd.
And then she saw the broad planes of Kibum’s shoulders, just visible in his thin white T-shirt as it glowed softly under the club lights. He was standing a little distance from them, in a darkened alcove, his back to them, his face turned away. She couldn’t see what he was doing at first, and then he shifted, and she saw that he was facing someone, their face hidden in shadow, as he pressed close to them, his hands running over their body. Her stomach sank as she caught a glimpse of a familiar thin frame, as Taemin’s slender arms wound over Kibum’s shoulders, pulling him closer as he kissed him.
Junghee broke free of her grip, and pushed forward, and Minjung followed automatically, though her feet were slow with dread. As they drew closer, she saw Taemin’s head fall back, his eyes closed and his mouth open and panting, as Kibum went for his neck. One of Kibum’s hands was between them now, no longer visible to Minjung, but from the way Taemin looked so touched out, so gone, she could draw her own conclusions.
Taemin eyes fluttered open, as if he sensed their approach, and he quickly disentangled himself from Kibum and tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes were wide, but he said nothing.
Kibum turned, his mouth hanging open, still breathing heavily. The lights in the club flashed brighter, and Minjung could see his collarbones and chest glowing with sweat above the deep scoop neck of his shirt. His eyes were dark, wild, and unfocused, and he merely stared at them both, as if he did not know them.
“Kibum, what the fuck,” Junghee said. Her voice was trembling, and he blinked at it, as if whatever spell he was under had been broken. He looked at her then, his eyes widening in recognition.
“Junghee,” he said hoarsely, and stepped forward, his hand already outstretched, but she shook her head violently, shrinking back toward Minjung, who wrapped her arms around her, protectively. He gazed at her, his eyes stricken, his mouth working, and then he turned, and disappeared into the crowd.
Taemin was still standing there, frozen, eyes wide in guilt, hands twisting nervously against each other. “Junghee,” he began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.
“Please,” she said, and Minjung heard the sob in her breath. “Please just tell me that it was a drunken mistake, just an accident.”
Taemin’s mouth opened, and then closed. He swallowed hard. “I can explain.”
“Oh, that’s a great beginning,” Junghee said sarcastically, her laugh a bit too shrill. “This is gonna be real good.” She stopped laughing, and shook her head. “Were you also gonna use that line if I caught you sleeping with him?”
Taemin’s nervous gulp was visible even in the dim light of the club..
“Oh my god,” Junghee said, incredulous. “You’re sleeping with him.”
He looked like he might panic, but he held his ground. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he faltered.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just a friendly text like, ‘Hey, I know your ex said he broke up with you because he’d found his one and only and didn’t have time for you anymore, but actually, just kidding, he’s fucking one of your best friends now,’” Junghee shot back bitterly.
“I didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to be poly until tonight, when Minjung told me,” Taemin said miserably. “And then--I don’t know. I thought it would be better if she told you about--about him and me.”
Junghee twisted around suddenly in her embrace, and pushed away from her. “You knew?” Her face was a distorted mask of pain and anger. “Is that what you two were talking about?”
“Oh my god,” she said, in soft disbelief, as Minjung did not respond. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking very small and alone in the middle of the seething crowd, shaking a little, like a sapling in a storm. “Was anyone going to tell me?”
Minjung tried desperately to think of something comforting, something reassuring to say, but her empty stomach roiled, and she just stared blankly at Junghee, who nodded. “Got it,” she said coldly. And then, before either of them could stop her, she bolted.
Minjung ran after her. “Junghee!” she called out, shouldering her way through the crowd. But Junghee did not look back as she ran through the club, and then out the back door.
“Junghee!” Minjung cried again, as she followed her out.
Junghee was already several yards away, but she stopped, and turned. “I can’t do this right now, Minjung,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I just--” Minjung held out her hands. “I just want to talk.”
“What is there to talk about?” Junghee sobbed, as Minjung drew closer. She could see the tear tracks on Junghee’s face, glitter and mascara running together, as Junghee tried in vain to wipe the mess away with the back of her hand. “The three people who I love most in the world all lied to me.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Minjung said faintly.
“Complicated!” Junghee snorted. “Please, enlighten me. I know why Taemin kept it from me--he was thinking with his dick. And Kibum wanted to have his fun without explaining anything to his ex, but you! Why did you lie to me? I can’t wait to hear your complicated reasons for doing so.” Her mocking voice cracked on the last few syllables.
“I only found out today,” Minjung said, the sickness in her stomach growing. “And I didn’t say anything because--because I was scared.” She whispered the last part of her confession. “The way you look at him…” She looked away, trying to gather her composure. “I thought you might still be in love with him, and I was scared that you would go back to him, if you knew he was still available.”
When she looked back, Junghee was shaking her head. “I am in love with him,” she said, almost inaudibly. “I’ve always been in love with him. Nothing has changed.”
“Then why are you here?” Minjung burst out. She felt as though she were being slowly torn apart. “Why are you even with me?”
“Because I love you too,” Junghee cried. “Because I’ve never wanted to choose. Because I had the misfortune of falling in love with two monogamous people who would rather play little jealous possessive mind games than be honest with me.” She hung her head as she sobbed. “I don’t even know why I try,” she choked out. “Kibum doesn’t want me, and you don’t trust me.”
Every word hit Minjung like a slap in the face. “Baby, no,” she whispered, around the bitter taste in her mouth. She reached out for her, wanting to turn back time to ten minutes ago, when they were still happy in each other’s arms in the club bathroom stall.
But Junghee recoiled. “Don’t touch me.” She turned and ran, and Minjung stumbled after her, but her head swam suddenly, and she stooped and retched all over the asphalt, the bile burning her mouth as it left.
When she was done, she stared, uncomprehending, down at the foul puddle. She staggered away, breathing heavily, but Junghee was already gone.
---
Taemin found her leaning against the dumpster behind the club, her knees drawn up to her chest as she looked vacantly at the pavement.
“Where’s Junghee?” he said, but she only shook her head, not able to speak. She clutched her phone tightly in her hands, waiting for the telltale vibrating buzz that would alert her when Junghee texted her back, but the phone stayed silent, her eight texts unanswered and unread.
Taemin squatted next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s not your fault,” she muttered.
“But me getting carried away in there really didn’t help.”
She snorted. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know what it was, I’ve never seen Kibum like that before, so handsy in public, and it just really--” he ground to a halt. “Never mind. Sorry.” He ran his fingers back through his hair. “Speaking of, have you seen him? Kibum.”
She shook her head.
He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “I’m just kinda worried, because I couldn’t find him anywhere, and we gotta get back soon, I mean, the club’s gonna be closing here in like half an hour, and--”
“I really,” she cut in, “couldn’t give a flying fuck about Kibum or where he is right now.”
“That’s fair,” Taemin said quietly. He nodded at her phone. “Have you heard from her at all?”
“No,” she whispered miserably, but she unlocked her phone and checked her messages once more, just in case. Still nothing. “I don’t know where she went or what she’s doing.” She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe herself. “What if something happens to her?”
Taemin patted her shoulder, his touch awkward. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he said, without a shred of confidence in his voice.
“I just want her to text me back,” she whispered.
As if in answer to her wish, her phone suddenly buzzed, the notification light flashing. Minjung hurried to unlock it, her fingers trembling. The new text hovered on the screen, the text laconic, and properly capitalized and punctuated.
I’m fine. Stop texting me.
Minjung felt a rush of relief, then guilt, then fear. Junghee was okay, but Minjung had gone too far again. And a tiny voice whispered to her that something bad might still happen to Junghee at any moment, or that her girlfriend was already in trouble, and trying to pretend she was safe.
“I just wanna know you’re okay,” she wrote back, before she could stop herself. The message went through, and within a few seconds, her screen showed that Junghee had read it. But her girlfriend did not reply.
Neither of them heard any more from Kibum or Junghee that night, and after a few more minutes of staring at their phones, they returned to the club. The crowd was significantly sparser, as patrons cleared out for the night, leaving in little giggling or belligerent drunken clusters of two or three. Kibum was nowhere in sight, although they hunted in every nook and cranny, and checked every bathroom stall, and at last they had to give up, and let the flow of the crowd carry them back out the front entrance.
They did not speak on the drive back. Taemin had his head down, in his hands, and Minjung clenched the steering wheel as her eyes roamed over the thinning crowds of partiers streaming along the sidewalks and over the crosswalks. She knew it was futile, that Junghee did not want to be found, and had likely disappeared into the depths of some casino, safe from Minjung’s prying eyes. But she couldn’t stop the sudden leap of her heart every time she saw a tiny figure in shorts and a crop top, or spotted a fluffy pale halo of hair.
The Strip at night was a strange juxtaposition of the opulent and the brazenly trashy, with flashing marquees and billboards running up against marble colonnades, the strip clubs and casinos advertising their attractions with neon bluntness, or with the softer innuendoes of lights playing across the water, or winking behind a canopy of trees. The only constants were the sidewalks; bleached ribbons of pavement, wide enough for the constant congestion of the crowds, and for the erratic stumbling of those who had had a bit too much. They ran, humble and unassuming, under the towering porticos and spires, and past the docile rows of palm trees, which stood like ladies in waiting, boles ghostly under the unrelenting glare of intermittent floodlights. They continued on and out of the Strip, until all pretensions at grandeur vanished, and gave way to the more pedestrian tawdriness of fast food joints, and gas stations, and adult superstores.
The highway home was wide, stained yellow under streetlights and the false brightness of the city sky. Gradually, the traffic eased, and the city faded to a glow behind them, as Minjung drove north. Taemin did not stir, not until she exited, and drove the short distance to his home. He sat up slowly. “Thanks,” he said, his shoulders slumped. He forced half a smile, and got out of the car. He paused with his hand on the corner of the door, as Minjung leaned over to peer at him, waiting for him to close it.
He opened his mouth, shut it, and then glanced away briefly before he looked back. “Hope she gets back to you soon,” he said finally. And then he shut the door, and ambled away, a little unsteady on his long slender legs.
Minjung had not realized how much she was guarding herself until he left. Suddenly, there was no steeliness left in her spine, and she drove the rest of the way home, her body sagging under the weight of her head, and the sickness inside her.
Back at home, she kicked off her shoes and tried to place her keys on the counter, but she fumbled, and they fell to the floor. She did not pick them up. She stumbled, sight blurry, to the bathroom, where she stripped off her clothes, her gaze ruthless as she surveyed her mussed hair and smeared makeup, her too-broad shoulders, her too-flat chest. The ungainly length of her arms and legs. Her narrow hips, bones jutting above the waistband of her briefs. She smelled of sick and alcohol and the dirty club bathroom, laced with the lingering intoxication of Junghee’s scent.
She had to get it off.
She ran the shower blisteringly hot, scrubbing every inch of herself, the water too harsh against her skin. But she welcomed the pain. She had more integrity like this, when her skin hurt as much as she did inside, when she could try to sate the hunger of her guilt.
She lingered for a whole ten minutes, far longer than her usual allotment, but by the time she finally stepped back out, her sickness had subsided a little into a dead exhaustion. She wrapped herself in her robe and brushed her teeth, scrubbing the lingering bitterness from her tongue.
The bedroom still smelled like Junghee’s cologne when she entered. She crawled onto the bed, not bothering to get under the covers, and curled up on her side, listening to the muted noise of traffic from the highway a few blocks away. The clock read 3:05. She stared it down, until it shifted at last to 3:06. She rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling. The darkness was hollow around her, recoiling from her, refusing her the soothing touch of sleep.
This wasn’t going to work.
She sat back up with reluctance and returned to the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water, and set it on the stove. Her phone was still on the counter where she had left it, its notification light pulsing green. She blinked at it, and then scrambled for it, fingers shaking as she unlocked it.
A new text, but it was from Taemin.
hav u heard anythin
She set the phone back down without answering it. The water whistled, and she carried her phone and the fresh cup of tea to the table. Her tea she drew close to her chest, curling her hands around it as she hunched over it, inhaling the steam. Her phone she set a little distance from herself, with the screen set to never time out, so she would see Junghee’s text the second it arrived. She would wait all night if she had to.
---
She woke some time later to the soft click of the front door. She was slumped over, cheek against the glossy wood of the table, a sticky patch of saliva drying underneath her slack lips. Her mug of tea, now cold, rested a few inches from her forehead, and her hand was stretched out towards her phone, which had run out of battery, and lay there, lifeless and dead.
She blinked confusedly at the noise, and then sat up. “Babe, oh my god, you're home,” she babbled, as she pulled herself to her feet, swaying a little. Hot tears started to her eyes, and she let them fall. She was too far gone for dignity at this point.
“Hi.” Junghee's voice was low and flat. She stared warily at Minjung as she pulled off her shoes.
Minjung had a million questions, but all that rose to her lips was, “How did you get home?”
Junghee snorted. “I took a fucking Uber.” Her scornful tone lashed Minjung like a whip. She brushed past Minjung without another word, without another glance, and went into the bathroom. A minute later, Minjung heard the shower running.
She poured her cold tea down the drain, but left the bag in the mug as she set it down on the counter. She went to bed, and pulled her covers over herself, but she did not sleep. She heard the shower stop, and then the bathroom door open as Junghee exited. She held very still as Junghee entered the bedroom, waiting for the gentle noise of the springs as her girlfriend settled on the other side, but instead she simply heard the creak of one of the dresser drawers being pulled open, and then the door closed again. Junghee had gone.
Return to Part One
Part Three
Pairing: Minjung/bigender!Jonghyun
Rating: R--NC-17
Genre: Angst / Horror / Sci-Fi
Warnings: Character death, gore, body horror, prescription drug abuse, suicide attempt, mention of self-harm, mentions of food
Final Word Count: 74,000~
She woke to the muted murmur of low voices in the next room, and she blinked up at the ceiling, disoriented by the noise and the dim room and the slowly receding fog of sleep. She glanced at the clock. Almost 6 p.m. She groaned and sat up, automatically undoing her braid and running her fingers through her hair to smooth it. The door opened behind her; she turned to see Junghee cautiously slip inside.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Junghee said. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Be right out,” Minjung said dully, looking at the tiled floor under her socked feet. She waited until she heard the door shut behind Junghee, and then she buried her face in her hands. She breathed once, twice, and then heaved her body up from the bed and darted out of the bedroom into the bathroom, not looking at the kitchen as she passed it. She wet a washcloth with cool water, patted her reddened eyes, and did her best to hide the rest of the damage with makeup. After combing her hair back into a new ponytail, and leveling a stern glare at her reflection, she exited the bathroom to rejoin the others.
Kibum and Taemin were already at the table as she walked in. Taemin slouched in a chair, wearing ripped black jeans and a black T-shirt that had six open-mouthed yellow Pac-Man heads arranged in two neat columns under the words SIX PAC, in all caps. He was focused intently on his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. A game, she thought, judging by the rapidfire flashes on the screen, and the muted noise of explosions. Kibum was standing at the head of the table facing away from her, in frayed cutoff light denim jeans, and a filmy white T-shirt, the wide collar showing off his shoulders and the muscles of his neck. His glossy tasseled black loafers stood in a neat pair next to Taemin’s scuffed black Converse at the door. The long fingers of one of his hands curled around the rounded top rail of a chair as he talked to Junghee, who was out of Minjung’s line of sight on the other side of the counter in the kitchen. She heard the oven door creak open, and the scrape of the metal rack inside.
“Hi babe!” Junghee said, as she appeared round the corner, flushed from the heat of the oven, and holding the pizza in two mitted hands. The oven mitts engulfed her arms almost to the elbow, and she had rolled up the short sleeves of her white crop top until it was practically sleeveless. She was barefoot again, walking on tiptoe across the cool tiles. She put the pizza on the table and smiled at her. It seemed false and too bright to Minjung, and it angered her.
She smiled tightly. “Hi.” She did not miss the way Kibum’s eyes raked over her girlfriend, and lingered for just a moment at her tiny waist. Junghee was wearing her cutoff shorts again--her favorite, because she said they made her legs look longer--and her entire outfit seemed an echo of Kibum’s. They both looked fresh and summery, with an easy casual grace that suggested effortlessness, though Minjung knew both of them would deliberate over the tiniest particulars of anything they wore. By contrast, Minjung felt frumpy in her navy blue running shorts and a baggy maroon soccer jersey left over from her school days.
She nodded to Kibum and Taemin as a greeting, then glanced at the table, and their empty glasses. “What are you both drinking?”
“Junghee told me you guys still have some of the beer I brought over for the Labor Day party,” Taemin said. “I’ll take one of those.”
“Just water for me.” Kibum smiled at Minjung, but his eyes were wide, and roving, the pupils dilated. His fingers tapped ceaselessly against the chair rail. His stare fixed on her again, and something in the intensity of it unnerved her.
She blinked. “Beer and water it is.”
It was a relief to busy herself for a few moments, to pour everyone their drinks and set out silverware, but then there was nothing left to do but sit, and, after a longing glance at the sink full of dirty dishes that would have kept her occupied for another twenty minutes, she settled herself in her chair.
She sat in her usual spot, and after serving everyone, Junghee sat down next to her, just around the corner of the table, her knees bumping Minjung’s once as she settled in. Taemin was on Minjung’s other side, and across from her sat Kibum, still drumming his fingers.
Junghee and Taemin dug in immediately, but Minjung only toyed with her food, her fork spearing through the layer of chunky tomato sauce and then twisting idly in the thick cheese. She looked up at Junghee and immediately regretted it--her girlfriend was gazing at Kibum, entirely absorbed, her face alight, her eyes sparkling, her pretty teeth parted as she laughed at something he was saying. Junghee could make anyone talking to her feel as if they were the only person in the world who mattered to her in that moment, as if they were the sun and she a devoted flower, bright and open and hungry for their light.
Minjung had grown so accustomed to receiving that look that she had begun to believe it--that she was the center, with Junghee in orbit. But now as she watched, feeling small and numb and far away, Minjung realized she’d had it all the wrong way around. She was the one who needed Junghee’s light. And she wasn’t sure Junghee needed her the same way.
She had never really minded before, the way Junghee glowed with warmth and affection around everyone she loved, but now, shut out in the cold, she resented it.
“How is Jinki doing?” she asked, in a lull in the conversation.
Kibum turned to her. “Hmm?”
“Your boyfriend?” she prodded. “Or is it your fiancé now? I can’t keep track.”
“Boyfriend,” Kibum said, with a polite smile. “And he’s doing well. He’s the principal now at Crestview, did I tell you?” He turned back to Junghee. “Youngest principal in the history of the school.”
“Wow,” Junghee said. “That’s amazing.” She patted his hand, and Minjung watched the way Junghee’s fingertips lingered against his skin before Kibum changed the subject.
Taemin nudged her, murmured something. She shook her head and tore her eyes away from the other two. “Hmm?”
“You okay?” he said, his voice somewhat indistinct around a mouthful of cheese.
“Yeah, I’m--” she shook her head again, waving him off. “Still just a bit hungover.”
Taemin’s eyes flicked from her to Junghee and Kibum and back. “Sorry to hear that.”
Minjung glanced back at Junghee, whose rapt gaze had not moved from Kibum, who was now telling her in detail about the play he had most recently seen on Broadway. Minjung felt a little sick, and she returned, miserably, to the slice of pizza that she was slowly mauling with her fork. She still had yet to take a single bite.
“It’s good,” Taemin encouraged.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I just don’t feel that great, I guess.”
Taemin set down his fork. His slice was mostly crust now, and he crammed it into his mouth with an efficiency that was both admirable and a bit disturbing. He took a large gulp of his beer. “Hey,” he said, a little out of breath. “Junghee told me you were thinking about getting some new plants for the garden out front.”
Minjung stared at him. “And?”
“And,” he continued, twirling his hand around as though it were tracing the circumference of a small wheel. “Don’t you want to...show me where you’d plant them? Or something?”
She raised an eyebrow, nonplussed. “Okay?”
“Come on,” he said. “I need...I need some air. Let’s go.”
“It’s kind of hot out,” she replied, but he had already shoved back his chair and headed toward the door, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she followed him.
He walked quietly to the end of the driveway, beer in hand, and then turned to look at her. She stopped midway down.
“They’d go here.” She gestured to the rock garden to her left.
“What?”
“The Birds of Paradise,” she said. “They’d go here.”
“Oh right. Yeah.” He walked back up the driveway, and stood next to her. “Looks like a nice spot.”
She folded her arms. “Cut the crap already, Taemin.”
“Hmm?” The innocent smile he flashed at her instantly wavered under her glare.
“Why did you actually drag me out here? You don’t care about my plants, and it’s far too hot to ‘get some air,’ so what is this actually about?”
He gave her half a smile, and took another sip of his beer. “I don’t know, it’s just fucking awkward to watch you look like you want to murder two of my friends?”
She opened her mouth, shut it, and bit her lip. “I don’t want to murder them,” she said finally.
“Oh good,” Taemin said flatly. “I feel all better now. Glad we cleared that up.”
“Junghee and I just have some things to work through, which, by the way, is none of your business.” Minjung hoped her tone was icy enough to put him off.
He shrugged. “Of course.”
“Minjung,” he added, as she turned back to the house. “Kibum isn’t going to sleep with her.”
She whipped around. “Excuse me?”
“That’s what you’re worried about isn’t it?” he said. “I just wanna tell you that you don’t have to worry.”
“What makes you so sure?” The question leapt out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“Well, for one,” he said, eyeing her meaningfully, “they wouldn’t just do that. Neither of them are secretive people, and they’ve fucked before, and you knew about it, because they told you ahead of time.”
“And two,” he held up two fingers, forestalling her interruption. “Kibum is a little too busy this weekend anyway.” He smirked. “Fucking me, to be precise. Well, it goes both ways, but my point is--he’s hardly denying himself anything.”
“But this morning...I thought you were joking,” she said.
“No, I mean, I was, but--” he fixed his gaze on a point a little above her and to her left, and ran his tongue across his teeth. “I thought you’d figured me out for a second, with your comment about me sleeping with Kibum, and then it was just so funny that I--” his embarrassed grin vanished as she glowered at him, and he continued in a subdued tone. “It just seemed like the wrong time to tell you at that point.”
Minjung felt a cold chill of anger run down her spine. “So, your little fuck session...this is supposed to reassure me?”
“...Yes?” he faltered.
“All I’m hearing is that Kibum isn’t monogamous.”
“Um, obviously,” he laughed nervously. “I definitely got ample proof of that last night.”
She took a step toward him, and he stepped back automatically. “Junghee told me he was, though. That that’s why they broke up in the first place.”
“There--there must be some misunderstanding,” he stammered. “Kibum never--he wouldn’t--”
“There’s no misunderstanding,” she snapped. “Kibum lied.” Her vision was going hazy. “Or Junghee did.”
“Junghee wouldn’t--” Taemin tried again.
“Just--” she held up a hand. “Just stop, okay? Nothing you say is helping.” She felt sick and dizzy and her head was pounding again. The heat, she thought dully. She had to get back inside. She turned, but Taemin grabbed her elbow.
“Junghee wouldn’t lie to you,” he said. “She wouldn’t do that.”
She wrenched her elbow free. “You thought Kibum wouldn’t either, and yet here we are. One of them did.”
Taemin shook his head. “Junghee wouldn’t, though. I know her.”
“I know her,” Minjung jabbed angrily at her own chest for emphasis. “We’ve been together for over eight years.”
Taemin extended his hands to her, pleadingly. “Which is why you should trust her.”
“Do not,” she stepped forward and pointed at him, her forefinger coming very close to his face as he winced, “lecture me on how to handle my shit.”
“It’s not a lecture, I just think that--” he burst out, but Minjung stopped him. “That’s enough.”
She was numb as she strode back up the driveway, her vision narrowing to a channel just wide enough for her to see her next steps. She felt removed from her own body as she watched herself fumble with the handle of the door. It burned, but she barely felt it. The handle turned, and she let herself back in, feeling her mouth turn up at the corners when the other two looked at her. A reflex. She hoped it looked like a smile.
“Everything okay?” Junghee said.
“Yeah just,” she waved her hand, hoping the gesture looked casual. “Getting some air.”
Junghee frowned skeptically, but Minjung was saved from further questioning by the reappearance of Taemin, who kicked off his shoes and slouched back down in his seat and grinned lazily at them all before launching into the latest story about his incompetent coworker at the deli.
Minjung carried her plate into the kitchen. The slice of pizza was cold; the sauce was running along the sides and the cheese had congealed into an unappetizing mess. She curled her lip in disgust, and tipped the plate to dump its contents into the trash can. She covered it with her discarded napkin, and set to work cleaning all the dishes, glad of the excuse to look down and tune everyone else out.
The conversation ebbed and flowed beyond her, but she could hear nothing but static, an onslaught of sounds that meant nothing to her, slowly drowned out by the roaring in her own ears. She scrubbed at a particularly tough spot on a plate, and for just a moment, her entire world was that spot, and the way her knuckles dug through the thick sponge. The water was running, she realized. A waste. She turned it off, and kept scrubbing.
The voices peaked, there was a flurry of excitement, a laugh, and then Junghee was next to her in the kitchen. “I think we’re going to go out for a bit, babe.” Her wide smile was belied by the anxious furrow that appeared between her brows as she searched Minjung’s face.
“What happened to our night in?” Minjung said quietly. She grabbed the dish towel hanging on the oven door handle, and twisted it between her hands as she dried them.
“Oh, there’s always tomorrow!” Junghee’s laugh tinkled, but the worry lines deepened. “Kibum wanted us to take him to the Strip.”
Minjung snorted. “Well, I guess it’s settled then. If Kibum wants it.” She said the last under her breath, but Junghee still heard it, and Minjung watched as the barb struck home, and her girlfriend’s eyes widened with confusion and hurt. The relish of her own spite turned bitter in her mouth.
“We’re probably just going to end up at Club Azul,” Taemin drawled from her other side.
“I know you’re not feeling well,” Junghee said softly. “You don’t have to go if you’re too tired.”
Don’t bother coming, Minjung heard. Don’t make a fool of yourself, hanging around where you’re not wanted.
She almost gave in then, as she felt herself begin to collapse around her own soft hurt, the way a fruit caves in when it has gone bad in the middle. She’d stay home and curl up in a blanket and nurse her loneliness, and then Junghee would come home, and see her pain, and comfort her.
Except, her brain flickered with anger. Junghee didn’t care. Junghee was probably excited to get away, spend an evening out having fun with friends, instead of at home with Minjung, with her strict routines and set bedtimes. Sober, rigid, boring, monogamous, wet blanket Minjung. So unlike Kibum, who was sophisticated and artistic and witty and vibrant, who could make Junghee come alive with one glance, one touch.
She could see it so clearly, the way they’d flirt with each other at the bar, the way Kibum would lead Junghee out on the dance floor, the way they would look at each other, the way they would touch each other, the way they wanted to touch each other, when Minjung wasn’t looking.
“Yeah, don’t worry, Minjung, I’ll keep an eye on them.” Taemin broke into her thoughts as if he had read them. “I’m a great babysitter.”
“Actually.” Minjung bestowed a sweet smile on each of them in turn. “I’d love to go.”
She finished drying her hands on the towel she had been clutching in her hands, and then brushed past them both and into her room to change.
---
In the end, they all opted to drive straight to the club.
“There isn’t really anything new to see along the Strip anyway,” Taemin said. “It’s not like anything major has changed since you left.” Minjung looked briefly at him in the rearview mirror as he sprawled in the back seat, his legs wide open, his head lolling a bit against the headrest. “Still the same old, same old, you know?” He was nursing another beer that he’d snatched from the fridge just before they left, and he was dangling the bottle carelessly between his fingers as he talked, despite Minjung’s repeated admonitions that he ought to keep all open bottles down and out of sight. “Everything is still loud and dirty and cheap, and it’s still crawling with Elvis impersonators.”
Kibum sat next to him, separated only by the narrow middle seat, his legs crossed and an amused smile playing on his lips. “Look at you, the world-weary cynic.”
Taemin shrugged. “That’s what happens when you work retail and food service in Vegas for like, fuckever.”
Kibum leaned over and muttered something in a tone too low for Minjung to catch. Taemin simply laughed and returned to his beer.
Minjung turned to Junghee, but her girlfriend was sagging against the car window, her cheek against the glass as she stared silently up at the garish lights strung along the city skyline. Gone was the false cheerful bravado of dinner; now she just looked tiny and soft and sad, and something in Minjung twisted, first with guilt and then with anger. Guilt that she had hurt Junghee, and anger that it was so easy for Junghee to make her feel like the aggressor in every situation.
Still, one look at the sloping curve of Junghee’s slumped shoulders, and she wanted nothing more than to be back at home with her girlfriend, just the two of them, soaking in the remnants of the sunset as it filtered in through the slats on their bedroom window blinds, as Minjung lost herself in the soft warmth of Junghee’s skin, and the way it responded to her touch.
The stoplight was red, and her fingers crept across the gearshift, aching to touch Junghee’s hand, and then the stoplight turned green again, and she withdrew, and pulled through the intersection.
---
Club Azul was notorious for never having enough parking. Though it had been rebranded and remodeled in the last few years, the gay club still sat on the same small lot that it had occupied since the 90s, just two blocks off the Strip. Minjung circled the club once, looking for spots, but to no avail.
“Let me just drop you off out front,” she offered, circling back. The club reared above her, a tall broad white silo with the words Club Azul blazoned across the front in neon blue script. Two tall palm trees bracketed the black awning that sheltered the entryway.
But the others protested that they would prefer to stick together and walk over with her, and Minjung accepted, without the perfunctory argument that she normally would have made.
The parking garage a few blocks away from the club was almost full, and Minjung had to drive up six levels before she found a tiny spot to squeeze into. “Is this even a spot?” she muttered, half to herself, as she opened the door as far as she could and eased herself out through the narrow opening.
“It is now,” Taemin laughed, still clutching his beer as he got out. “I’m sure you’re fine.”
“Will you put that away?” she hissed.
“Will you relax, please? Christ,” he said, deliberately taking a swig right in front of her. “It’s Vegas, I’m not gonna get arrested for walking around with an open bottle of beer.”
“But they’re also not going to let you into the club with outside alcohol,” Kibum countered.
“...True.” Taemin looked at his bottle, considering his options. “Okay, give me two seconds.”
“No, we’re going,” Minjung said firmly, as she locked her door. She started across the parking garage toward the elevators in the far corner, Kibum and Junghee right on her heels.
“Oh my god, okay!” she heard behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Taemin tilt the bottle up to his mouth to drain its contents and then shove it back inside the car and shut the door. He trotted after her.
“Did you lock it?” she called.
“Shit,” he said, and ran back.
The walk to the club was a straight stretch along a side street, past a hotel, an autobody shop, and a drycleaner’s. Minjung could feel the club even before she could hear it, the vibrations from the music traveling through the ground and cutting through the noise of the traffic and the crowds along the strip. Though the parking lot was full, the line wasn’t particularly long, and they shuffled indoors, obediently holding their wrists out for the pink wristband that granted them entry and access to the bar.
It was hot inside the club and the air was thick with the suffocating humidity of hundreds of bodies packed together, breathing and sweating together. The bass throbbed through the club, rippling through Minjung’s body, and she plugged her ears automatically as she tried to adjust. The combined scent of so many people in one place was overpowering, each one doused in some cocktail of sweat and alcohol and the overly strong fragrance of their deodorant or cologne. It was cloying, and a little sickening, and Minjung breathed through her mouth, trying to ignore the underlying scent of urine from the bathrooms to her left, and the way her sandals stuck slightly to the gritty floor.
“We’re blocking the entryway,” Kibum said, in her ear, and she moved forward, head down, elbowing her way through the press of bodies, until they all reached a tiny clearing in the crowd.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” he said. “Do you want anything?”
Minjung shook her head, but Junghee nodded. “Vodka?” she smiled hopefully.
“Should you really be drinking after last night?” Minjung said quietly, leaning over to her girlfriend, but Junghee waved her off. “Just one drink isn’t gonna kill me, Mom.” The smile that played across her lips was teasing, but her eyes were hard, and the tilt of her jaw was defiant.
Minjung pressed her lips together firmly to hold back the retort that sprang to her tongue. “I’ll get it for you,” she said finally, sliding her credit card out of her sports bra. It was already uncomfortably clammy from the sweat gathering on her tits, and she wiped it against her black tank top.
Kibum saw the gesture. “Put that away,” he chided, touching her shoulder lightly with his fingertips. She flinched, and one of his eyebrows twitched up by a hair. He pulled his hand back. “I got this.” He smiled generously, and put up one hand to quiet Minjung’s protests. “It’s the least I can do to show my appreciation for everyone’s hospitality.”
Minjung stared at him, feeling cornered, her shoulders tense as she searched for some pretext to turn down Kibum’s offer without sounding rude. But nothing came to mind, and she gave a begrudging nod, and trailed after the other three as they made their way to the bar.
“Double shot for the princess,” Kibum said, handing off the slender glass to Junghee, who bit her lip, and smiled up at him through her lashes as she took it. Minjung knew this smile well--the shy quirk of the lips, the cheekbones becoming more prominent, dimples appearing out of nowhere, eyes widening innocently, but with a spark of mischief. It was devastating, magnetic, and Junghee knew it. Minjung clenched one of her fists, briefly, and then forced her fingers to straighten again.
“Thank you,” she saw Junghee mouth, her eyes twinkling, and Kibum’s hand came up, knuckles brushing her arm in a light caress.
Minjung felt sick.
Kibum turned to her. “For you?” he asked, leaning back against the bar, his dark eyes flicking to meet hers, and then darting away again.
She shook her head. “I’ll pass,” she said coldly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Taemin looking at her. His eyes, when she glanced at him, were sober and knowing, and it galled her, the way he seemed to have a peephole into her private thoughts. But it was just for a split second, and then he turned to Kibum, swatting him playfully across the chest with the back of his hand. “Where’s my drink, rich boy?”
“Oh, getting bossy, are we?” Kibum teased. “What’ll it be? You old enough for a juice box or do you still need a sippy cup?”
“Just get something I can’t afford on my budget,” Taemin shot back.
“Oh honey.” Kibum patted his face patronizingly. “That could be anything.”
Taemin flicked his nose. “Shut up and get me a drink; I’m too sober for your shit.”
He sniffed appreciatively at the full plastic cup of beer the bartender handed him. “Nice.”
Kibum rolled his eyes, and downed his own double shot of tequila. He looked around. “Where’s Junghee?”
Minjung blinked, and looked at where her girlfriend had been a few moments before, but Junghee was gone, her empty shot glass resting on the edge of the bar.
“Bathroom?” Taemin suggested.
She nodded. “Yeah, let me just--” she made her way to the bathroom, jostled by the crowd as she forced her way through. There was a long line stretching out of the women’s restroom; she bypassed it entirely, striding to the bathroom entrance. “I’m looking for someone,” she threw over her shoulder, to quiet the protests of those in line.
All the stalls were full, and Minjung squatted on her heels, and scanned the floor underneath. But there was no sign of Junghee’s white high-heeled sneakers, and she stood back up, brushing past the line one more, ignoring the disgruntled epithets as she exited the bathroom and returned to the bar. This time, it was Kibum and Taemin who had vanished.
She found them at the edge of the dance floor, drinks in hand as they both gazed into the crowd.
She caught Taemin by the elbow. “Have you seen her?”
He looked at her. “Yeah…”
Kibum pointed into the crowd. “We found her.”
Minjung followed the line of his arm with her eyes. She saw nothing at first, just an indistinct scramble of bodies moving against each other, and then she caught a flash of white, and a halo of pink.
Junghee’s body was caught between two others, her back against someone’s bare muscular chest, their large hands cupping her hipbones, the other with their hands in her hair as they ground against her slowly. The music shifted, the rhythm dropping to a relatively hushed throb, the lights dimming, turning blue, as a soft soprano voice ghosted over the beat, sensual and sweet. Minjung recognized the song; it was on one of Junghee’s playlists that she played sometimes at home, as she did her makeup in front of the mirror before a night out. Minjung would watch her from the bathroom doorway as Junghee leaned over the sink to get a good look at her eyeliner, as her baggy T-shirt rode up over her bare thighs, and dragged across the dusting of makeup on the edge of the counter.
“This is why I never wear my going out clothes when I do my makeup,” she’d said once, as she examined the streaks of eyeshadow and foundation on her T-shirt. “It doesn’t matter what I get on this sloppy old thing.”
Minjung had never been able to articulate just how much she loved Junghee in “that sloppy old thing,” and how she loved seeing the Junghee that almost no one else saw: the soft, unraveled version, with sleepy eyes, and mussed hair, and endearingly ill-fitted clothes.
All these memories crowded into her mind now, and were turned inside out, one by one, as she heard Junghee’s song, and watched her girlfriend let the music take her, her eyes shut in bliss, her body undulating naturally between the others, one of her small hands cupping the neck of the person behind her, as she grinded back against them. Their hands wandered over the taut planes of her stomach, and toyed with the edge of her crop top, and she only bit her lip, and arched into their touch.
“Look at her go,” Kibum mused idly. Minjung looked over at him; he was sipping meditatively on his drink, his eyes never leaving Junghee. “I taught her that.”
His smile hinted at too many memories of his own, and Minjung allowed herself a moment of pure loathing as she watched his self-satisfied expression, before Taemin broke in.
“Well, I, for one,” the younger man said, “am ready to show you up on the dance floor.”
He tugged on Kibum’s hand, and the other man laughed. “Jesus, let me finish my drink.”
“Bottoms up,” Taemin commanded, tipping the cup toward Kibum’s lips.
“Okay, okay.” Kibum tossed the rest back in one go and Taemin stacked their empty cups and handed them to Minjung.
“Join us?” Taemin asked, already pulling Kibum toward the floor.
Minjung shook her head. “I need to...get some water.”
He nodded, and drew Kibum to a spot on the dance floor some distance away from Junghee, and Minjung had just enough time to see him wind his arms around Kibum’s neck, before the crowd engulfed them, and they were lost to sight.
She stood there, slowly crumpling the plastic cups in her hand, and then she looked back at Junghee. Her girlfriend’s eyes were open, her steady gaze meeting Minjung’s own, before she deliberately looked away, letting her eyelids flutter closed again, as she shut Minjung out.
Minjung’s stomach clenched, and after one last pained glance, she turned away, her vision blurring as she pushed through the crowd.
“Whiskey,” she said, when she reached the bar. She gulped down the drink when it was offered, her nostrils flaring wide with the harsh sting of the liquor. “Another please,” she choked out, setting her glass back down. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
The second drink she took more slowly, but she could already feel the alcohol as it hit her fast and hard, racing through her stomach and into her blood, sending a rush of heat through her veins. She was vaguely aware that she would regret this later, but right now it felt good--the way it calmed her, and gave her a heady buoyant confidence, steeled by the sudden focus of her anger.
She returned to the dance floor, plunging straight through the dancers until she found Junghee. “Excuse me,” she said, as she cut in, slipping her arm around Junghee’s waist, and ignoring the disgruntled muttering of the other two as they disappeared into the crowd. Her girlfriend’s eyes snapped open.
“Hi,” Junghee said uncertainly.
“Hello babe,” she replied, her arm curling more tightly around Junghee’s waist. “Mind if I have this dance?”
Junghee shook her head. “Of-of course not.” She arched into Minjung, clinging to her shirt as Minjung drew her closer. The music evened out, grew mellower. Gone was the Junghee who had danced with abandon between two strangers, now she seemed small and soft and a bit clumsy in Minjung’s arms, as she rocked back and forth, slow dancing, her fingers hesitant as they traced Minjung’s collar. She leaned in, pleading silently, slipping past every one of Minjung’s defenses, until Minjung relented and met Junghee’s mouth with her own. She ran her hand up the back of Junghee’s neck, cradling the back of her head in her palm as her long fingers tangled in her hair.
Junghee’s lips tasted of salt and vodka, and Minjung savored the bitterness, licking gently at her chapped lips until they felt full and soft against her own. She felt, rather than heard, her girlfriend’s soft moan as her lips parted, and her tongue darted out to meet Minjung’s, touching it coyly, and then retreating, as Minjung groaned, and pursued, her tongue exploring the depths of Junghee’s mouth, and tracing the edge of her teeth, flicking against the exquisite points of her canines. Her girlfriend melted against her, her hands running over Minjung’s broad shoulders, and tracing the curve of her throat.
She broke the kiss, but just barely, her lips hovering near Minjung’s as she caressed Minjung’s cheekbones with her thumbs. Her eyes were soft, dark, unreadable, and then she leaned back in, kissing along Minjung’s throat, heedless of whoever might be watching. She pressed a kiss at the corner of Minjung’s jaw, and tugged her earlobe into her mouth. “I want you,” she whispered desperately, and Minjung’s stomach flipped at the words.
“Come with me,” she muttered indistinctly, kissing Junghee once more before she took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom.
The line was shorter now, and they shuffled forward with it. Minjung was trembling with impatience, clutching Junghee’s hand in her own, their fingers interlaced and a little clammy, as if they were back in college, still touching each other with the shy reverent awkwardness of first times. They only had to wait a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. But at last they were at the front of the line, and Minjung drew Junghee into the fourth stall down. They stood for a moment, facing each other, in silence, and then Junghee reached out and cupped Minjung’s face in her hands. “Baby,” she murmured gently, and the last eggshell-thin shield protecting everything soft and vulnerable inside Minjung crumbled, and dissolved, and she stepped forward, feeling tears start to her eyes. She looked down, embarrassed, and exhaled slowly, until the sharp sting in the corners of her eyes eased. Her fingertips skated over Junghee’s bare tummy, and she ached with the need to touch her; to not just touch her, but meld herself to her, closing the distance entirely.
She did not trust herself to speak, so she simply kissed her again, fiercely, tenderly, and sank to her knees, heedless of the grimy floor, her hands trailing down Junghee’s sides as she knelt. Her fingers traced the waistband of Junghee’s shorts, and paused at the button. She looked up, waiting for permission, and Junghee nodded and undid the button herself, unzipping the shorts until Minjung could see the pastel peach of her cotton panties peeping through. Her breath hitched as she saw it, and she took over for Junghee, pulling the denim shorts down to mid-thigh.
The shorts were tight and small, and trapped Junghee’s thighs, holding them close together as Minjung admired them, caressing the soft skin of each inner thigh. Junghee had already stained through her panties, and Minjung leaned in and nuzzled at the damp spot, breathing in Junghee’s scent.
Her long fingers curled around Junghee’s thighs, prying them apart as much as she could as she licked along the soft cotton, the wet spot spreading slowly through the fabric as she tasted her girlfriend, the musky taste strong against her tongue. She slid her fingers up Junghee’s thighs, and hooked them around the thin waistband of her panties, rolling them down until they fell gently on top of the shorts. She looked up; Junghee was gazing down at her with the same soft, unfathomably deep expression in her dark eyes, and Minjung ached with her want. She pressed a series of kisses to each thigh, working her way up until her mouth was just shy of her prize. She cupped Junghee in her hand, massaging her gently as her fingertips brushed closer to her hole. She was rewarded with a soft gasp, and she reached up with her other hand, spreading her fingers against the pliant skin of Junghee’s stomach, until she felt the hesitant flutter of Junghee’s fingers against her knuckles. Her breath ghosted against Junghee’s cock, and Junghee’s hand gripped hers suddenly, as Minjung took the head into her mouth.
Junghee wasn’t one for blow jobs, generally; it brought back too many bad memories of when she was younger, before she met Minjung, before either of them started HRT. Besides, she couldn’t sustain an erection for very long now even if she wanted to. And Minjung had had quite enough of giving blow jobs back in her college days, when she still dated cis gay boys, and considered it normal to feel a vague sense of nausea and exhaustion when they forced her head down on their cocks until she struggled not to choke.
But Junghee’s cock was beautifully soft and sensitive and responsive, the head velvety and warm and full as Minjung swirled her tongue around it, and then probed the slit, Junghee’s taste growing stronger in her mouth. Her girlfriend moaned a little, her head falling back against the wall of the stall with a muffled thump. Encouraged, Minjung pulled her hand free of Junghee’s legs, and put two fingers into her mouth, her fingertips grazing the head of Junghee’s cock as she licked all around them, and then withdrew them again. She slid her hand back between Junghee’s legs, fingers walking along her crack until she reached her hole.
“Fuck--” Junghee groaned, as Minjung’s tapered fingertips teased her rim, and then breached it, Junghee relaxing instantly to give her fingers easy access as they slid inside. The angle was slightly awkward, with Minjung’s wrist trapped between Junghee’s thighs, but the length of her fingers made up for it, and she gently scissored her open, as her tongue continued to work over and around the sensitive head of Junghee’s cock.
Junghee was trembling, her thighs straining as she tried to spread them wider, restrained by the stiff denim of the waistband that held her like a vice. Her back was pressed against the stall, and she slid down a few centimeters, trying to get more of Minjung’s teasing fingertips. The grip of her fingers was so tight on Minjung’s hand that it hurt, but Minjung didn’t care, her only thought to please her girlfriend.
Junghee liked it wet, and so did Minjung, and soon Junghee’s entire cock and her tender sac were slick with spit, soft and warm and wet against Minjung’s thirsty tongue, as it glided over every inch, and then returned to the head, worshiping it, savoring it, humming as she felt herself get wet. Junghee’s other hand tangled in her hair, as she gave herself up to Minjung’s tongue, moaning openly. Minjung popped off to steal a glance upwards; Junghee’s head was thrown back, the loose hem of her crop top fluttering as her chest heaved.
“I love you,” Minjung whispered.
She thought Junghee hadn’t heard her, but then her girlfriend squeezed her hand, and caressed her knuckles with her thumb, and Minjung felt a little dizzy, as her chest swelled so that she could hardly breathe. She leaned back in and suckled gently on Junghee’s head, the pressure of her tongue steadily increasing in strength as broken moans floated down from Junghee’s lips.
When Junghee came, it was with a soft cry, her hole clenching around Minjung’s fingers, her thighs shaking. Minjung pulled her fingers out but stayed on her, soothing her with her tongue, lapping up her slick musk, until Junghee squeezed her hand again.
“Baby,” she pleaded, and Minjung gave her a few more kitten licks, before she turned and buried her face in the soft juncture below Junghee’s hipbone, as her girlfriend smoothed her hair with her fingers. Her hands played over the back of Junghee’s thighs, and she wished that she could stay like this forever, in this moment of gentle certainty, shut away from the rest of the world.
But her reverie was shattered by the loud angry pounding of a fist against the door, and she jerked her head back. “Fuck off,” she shouted.
“People waiting out here,” came the response.
“Give me a fucking minute,” she snapped, and with an indistinct grumble, the person outside moved on.
Minjung turned back to Junghee, but the moment was broken, and she stood up, unsteadily, clinging to her girlfriend’s hand as Junghee helped tug her to her feet. Junghee pulled her shorts back up, and fastened them, her eyes never leaving Minjung’s face. She reached one tentative hand up and curled it around the back of Minjung’s neck, pulling her close. “I love you,” she said, against Minjung’s lips.
And for just a moment, Minjung could fully believe it, and she placed one shaking palm against Junghee’s cheek, and kissed her, trying to drive every thought from her mind except the warmth of Junghee’s lips against her mouth, and the way Junghee’s body arched into her needily.
Junghee broke the kiss at last. “I guess we’d better stop hogging the stall,” she said, her smile wobbly.
“Yeah,” Minjung said, leaning her forehead against Junghee’s. She made no effort to move, but Junghee pressed one last kiss to the tip of her nose. “We can continue this at home,” she promised lightly, and Minjung nodded, and followed her out of the stall.
They washed their hands briskly, sharing a shy smile in the mirror’s reflection, and Minjung hastened to grab an extra of the coarse brown paper towels in the dispenser. She handed it to Junghee, who bit her lip, her eyes smiling up at Minjung. Minjung took her hand, and kissed it impulsively, before lacing their fingers together and making their way back out of the restroom, ignoring the laughter of those still in line.
“Let’s go home,” Minjung said. The second wave of the alcohol had begun to hit, and she felt light-headed, and a little sick. Belatedly, she remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything. She groaned. “I’m tired.”
Junghee nodded. “We just need to find Kibum and Taemin first.”
They searched the bar first, and then the dance floor, but the other two were nowhere in sight.
“We could text them,” Minjung began, but then Junghee froze and her grip tightened painfully on Minjung’s hand.
Minjung looked at her, and then in the direction of her gaze. She couldn’t make out anything notable at first, as her eyes roved through the milling crowd.
And then she saw the broad planes of Kibum’s shoulders, just visible in his thin white T-shirt as it glowed softly under the club lights. He was standing a little distance from them, in a darkened alcove, his back to them, his face turned away. She couldn’t see what he was doing at first, and then he shifted, and she saw that he was facing someone, their face hidden in shadow, as he pressed close to them, his hands running over their body. Her stomach sank as she caught a glimpse of a familiar thin frame, as Taemin’s slender arms wound over Kibum’s shoulders, pulling him closer as he kissed him.
Junghee broke free of her grip, and pushed forward, and Minjung followed automatically, though her feet were slow with dread. As they drew closer, she saw Taemin’s head fall back, his eyes closed and his mouth open and panting, as Kibum went for his neck. One of Kibum’s hands was between them now, no longer visible to Minjung, but from the way Taemin looked so touched out, so gone, she could draw her own conclusions.
Taemin eyes fluttered open, as if he sensed their approach, and he quickly disentangled himself from Kibum and tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes were wide, but he said nothing.
Kibum turned, his mouth hanging open, still breathing heavily. The lights in the club flashed brighter, and Minjung could see his collarbones and chest glowing with sweat above the deep scoop neck of his shirt. His eyes were dark, wild, and unfocused, and he merely stared at them both, as if he did not know them.
“Kibum, what the fuck,” Junghee said. Her voice was trembling, and he blinked at it, as if whatever spell he was under had been broken. He looked at her then, his eyes widening in recognition.
“Junghee,” he said hoarsely, and stepped forward, his hand already outstretched, but she shook her head violently, shrinking back toward Minjung, who wrapped her arms around her, protectively. He gazed at her, his eyes stricken, his mouth working, and then he turned, and disappeared into the crowd.
Taemin was still standing there, frozen, eyes wide in guilt, hands twisting nervously against each other. “Junghee,” he began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.
“Please,” she said, and Minjung heard the sob in her breath. “Please just tell me that it was a drunken mistake, just an accident.”
Taemin’s mouth opened, and then closed. He swallowed hard. “I can explain.”
“Oh, that’s a great beginning,” Junghee said sarcastically, her laugh a bit too shrill. “This is gonna be real good.” She stopped laughing, and shook her head. “Were you also gonna use that line if I caught you sleeping with him?”
Taemin’s nervous gulp was visible even in the dim light of the club..
“Oh my god,” Junghee said, incredulous. “You’re sleeping with him.”
He looked like he might panic, but he held his ground. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he faltered.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just a friendly text like, ‘Hey, I know your ex said he broke up with you because he’d found his one and only and didn’t have time for you anymore, but actually, just kidding, he’s fucking one of your best friends now,’” Junghee shot back bitterly.
“I didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to be poly until tonight, when Minjung told me,” Taemin said miserably. “And then--I don’t know. I thought it would be better if she told you about--about him and me.”
Junghee twisted around suddenly in her embrace, and pushed away from her. “You knew?” Her face was a distorted mask of pain and anger. “Is that what you two were talking about?”
“Oh my god,” she said, in soft disbelief, as Minjung did not respond. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking very small and alone in the middle of the seething crowd, shaking a little, like a sapling in a storm. “Was anyone going to tell me?”
Minjung tried desperately to think of something comforting, something reassuring to say, but her empty stomach roiled, and she just stared blankly at Junghee, who nodded. “Got it,” she said coldly. And then, before either of them could stop her, she bolted.
Minjung ran after her. “Junghee!” she called out, shouldering her way through the crowd. But Junghee did not look back as she ran through the club, and then out the back door.
“Junghee!” Minjung cried again, as she followed her out.
Junghee was already several yards away, but she stopped, and turned. “I can’t do this right now, Minjung,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I just--” Minjung held out her hands. “I just want to talk.”
“What is there to talk about?” Junghee sobbed, as Minjung drew closer. She could see the tear tracks on Junghee’s face, glitter and mascara running together, as Junghee tried in vain to wipe the mess away with the back of her hand. “The three people who I love most in the world all lied to me.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Minjung said faintly.
“Complicated!” Junghee snorted. “Please, enlighten me. I know why Taemin kept it from me--he was thinking with his dick. And Kibum wanted to have his fun without explaining anything to his ex, but you! Why did you lie to me? I can’t wait to hear your complicated reasons for doing so.” Her mocking voice cracked on the last few syllables.
“I only found out today,” Minjung said, the sickness in her stomach growing. “And I didn’t say anything because--because I was scared.” She whispered the last part of her confession. “The way you look at him…” She looked away, trying to gather her composure. “I thought you might still be in love with him, and I was scared that you would go back to him, if you knew he was still available.”
When she looked back, Junghee was shaking her head. “I am in love with him,” she said, almost inaudibly. “I’ve always been in love with him. Nothing has changed.”
“Then why are you here?” Minjung burst out. She felt as though she were being slowly torn apart. “Why are you even with me?”
“Because I love you too,” Junghee cried. “Because I’ve never wanted to choose. Because I had the misfortune of falling in love with two monogamous people who would rather play little jealous possessive mind games than be honest with me.” She hung her head as she sobbed. “I don’t even know why I try,” she choked out. “Kibum doesn’t want me, and you don’t trust me.”
Every word hit Minjung like a slap in the face. “Baby, no,” she whispered, around the bitter taste in her mouth. She reached out for her, wanting to turn back time to ten minutes ago, when they were still happy in each other’s arms in the club bathroom stall.
But Junghee recoiled. “Don’t touch me.” She turned and ran, and Minjung stumbled after her, but her head swam suddenly, and she stooped and retched all over the asphalt, the bile burning her mouth as it left.
When she was done, she stared, uncomprehending, down at the foul puddle. She staggered away, breathing heavily, but Junghee was already gone.
---
Taemin found her leaning against the dumpster behind the club, her knees drawn up to her chest as she looked vacantly at the pavement.
“Where’s Junghee?” he said, but she only shook her head, not able to speak. She clutched her phone tightly in her hands, waiting for the telltale vibrating buzz that would alert her when Junghee texted her back, but the phone stayed silent, her eight texts unanswered and unread.
Taemin squatted next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s not your fault,” she muttered.
“But me getting carried away in there really didn’t help.”
She snorted. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know what it was, I’ve never seen Kibum like that before, so handsy in public, and it just really--” he ground to a halt. “Never mind. Sorry.” He ran his fingers back through his hair. “Speaking of, have you seen him? Kibum.”
She shook her head.
He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “I’m just kinda worried, because I couldn’t find him anywhere, and we gotta get back soon, I mean, the club’s gonna be closing here in like half an hour, and--”
“I really,” she cut in, “couldn’t give a flying fuck about Kibum or where he is right now.”
“That’s fair,” Taemin said quietly. He nodded at her phone. “Have you heard from her at all?”
“No,” she whispered miserably, but she unlocked her phone and checked her messages once more, just in case. Still nothing. “I don’t know where she went or what she’s doing.” She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe herself. “What if something happens to her?”
Taemin patted her shoulder, his touch awkward. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he said, without a shred of confidence in his voice.
“I just want her to text me back,” she whispered.
As if in answer to her wish, her phone suddenly buzzed, the notification light flashing. Minjung hurried to unlock it, her fingers trembling. The new text hovered on the screen, the text laconic, and properly capitalized and punctuated.
I’m fine. Stop texting me.
Minjung felt a rush of relief, then guilt, then fear. Junghee was okay, but Minjung had gone too far again. And a tiny voice whispered to her that something bad might still happen to Junghee at any moment, or that her girlfriend was already in trouble, and trying to pretend she was safe.
“I just wanna know you’re okay,” she wrote back, before she could stop herself. The message went through, and within a few seconds, her screen showed that Junghee had read it. But her girlfriend did not reply.
Neither of them heard any more from Kibum or Junghee that night, and after a few more minutes of staring at their phones, they returned to the club. The crowd was significantly sparser, as patrons cleared out for the night, leaving in little giggling or belligerent drunken clusters of two or three. Kibum was nowhere in sight, although they hunted in every nook and cranny, and checked every bathroom stall, and at last they had to give up, and let the flow of the crowd carry them back out the front entrance.
They did not speak on the drive back. Taemin had his head down, in his hands, and Minjung clenched the steering wheel as her eyes roamed over the thinning crowds of partiers streaming along the sidewalks and over the crosswalks. She knew it was futile, that Junghee did not want to be found, and had likely disappeared into the depths of some casino, safe from Minjung’s prying eyes. But she couldn’t stop the sudden leap of her heart every time she saw a tiny figure in shorts and a crop top, or spotted a fluffy pale halo of hair.
The Strip at night was a strange juxtaposition of the opulent and the brazenly trashy, with flashing marquees and billboards running up against marble colonnades, the strip clubs and casinos advertising their attractions with neon bluntness, or with the softer innuendoes of lights playing across the water, or winking behind a canopy of trees. The only constants were the sidewalks; bleached ribbons of pavement, wide enough for the constant congestion of the crowds, and for the erratic stumbling of those who had had a bit too much. They ran, humble and unassuming, under the towering porticos and spires, and past the docile rows of palm trees, which stood like ladies in waiting, boles ghostly under the unrelenting glare of intermittent floodlights. They continued on and out of the Strip, until all pretensions at grandeur vanished, and gave way to the more pedestrian tawdriness of fast food joints, and gas stations, and adult superstores.
The highway home was wide, stained yellow under streetlights and the false brightness of the city sky. Gradually, the traffic eased, and the city faded to a glow behind them, as Minjung drove north. Taemin did not stir, not until she exited, and drove the short distance to his home. He sat up slowly. “Thanks,” he said, his shoulders slumped. He forced half a smile, and got out of the car. He paused with his hand on the corner of the door, as Minjung leaned over to peer at him, waiting for him to close it.
He opened his mouth, shut it, and then glanced away briefly before he looked back. “Hope she gets back to you soon,” he said finally. And then he shut the door, and ambled away, a little unsteady on his long slender legs.
Minjung had not realized how much she was guarding herself until he left. Suddenly, there was no steeliness left in her spine, and she drove the rest of the way home, her body sagging under the weight of her head, and the sickness inside her.
Back at home, she kicked off her shoes and tried to place her keys on the counter, but she fumbled, and they fell to the floor. She did not pick them up. She stumbled, sight blurry, to the bathroom, where she stripped off her clothes, her gaze ruthless as she surveyed her mussed hair and smeared makeup, her too-broad shoulders, her too-flat chest. The ungainly length of her arms and legs. Her narrow hips, bones jutting above the waistband of her briefs. She smelled of sick and alcohol and the dirty club bathroom, laced with the lingering intoxication of Junghee’s scent.
She had to get it off.
She ran the shower blisteringly hot, scrubbing every inch of herself, the water too harsh against her skin. But she welcomed the pain. She had more integrity like this, when her skin hurt as much as she did inside, when she could try to sate the hunger of her guilt.
She lingered for a whole ten minutes, far longer than her usual allotment, but by the time she finally stepped back out, her sickness had subsided a little into a dead exhaustion. She wrapped herself in her robe and brushed her teeth, scrubbing the lingering bitterness from her tongue.
The bedroom still smelled like Junghee’s cologne when she entered. She crawled onto the bed, not bothering to get under the covers, and curled up on her side, listening to the muted noise of traffic from the highway a few blocks away. The clock read 3:05. She stared it down, until it shifted at last to 3:06. She rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling. The darkness was hollow around her, recoiling from her, refusing her the soothing touch of sleep.
This wasn’t going to work.
She sat back up with reluctance and returned to the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water, and set it on the stove. Her phone was still on the counter where she had left it, its notification light pulsing green. She blinked at it, and then scrambled for it, fingers shaking as she unlocked it.
A new text, but it was from Taemin.
hav u heard anythin
She set the phone back down without answering it. The water whistled, and she carried her phone and the fresh cup of tea to the table. Her tea she drew close to her chest, curling her hands around it as she hunched over it, inhaling the steam. Her phone she set a little distance from herself, with the screen set to never time out, so she would see Junghee’s text the second it arrived. She would wait all night if she had to.
---
She woke some time later to the soft click of the front door. She was slumped over, cheek against the glossy wood of the table, a sticky patch of saliva drying underneath her slack lips. Her mug of tea, now cold, rested a few inches from her forehead, and her hand was stretched out towards her phone, which had run out of battery, and lay there, lifeless and dead.
She blinked confusedly at the noise, and then sat up. “Babe, oh my god, you're home,” she babbled, as she pulled herself to her feet, swaying a little. Hot tears started to her eyes, and she let them fall. She was too far gone for dignity at this point.
“Hi.” Junghee's voice was low and flat. She stared warily at Minjung as she pulled off her shoes.
Minjung had a million questions, but all that rose to her lips was, “How did you get home?”
Junghee snorted. “I took a fucking Uber.” Her scornful tone lashed Minjung like a whip. She brushed past Minjung without another word, without another glance, and went into the bathroom. A minute later, Minjung heard the shower running.
She poured her cold tea down the drain, but left the bag in the mug as she set it down on the counter. She went to bed, and pulled her covers over herself, but she did not sleep. She heard the shower stop, and then the bathroom door open as Junghee exited. She held very still as Junghee entered the bedroom, waiting for the gentle noise of the springs as her girlfriend settled on the other side, but instead she simply heard the creak of one of the dresser drawers being pulled open, and then the door closed again. Junghee had gone.
Return to Part One
Part Three