Foxes of Summer
Foxes of Summer;;
jungsis. if jessica can accept her new post-idol life then why can't krystal - sister angst ;_; i will pay someone good money to give me jessica & krystal season two. rip
She shuffles her shoes childishly into the faux carpet on the plane. She might be flying first class, but after an hour or so of being relentless, cheap threads start to wear and her shoelaces surround themselves with loose fabric. She keeps her eyes on the prize, wondering how much dedication it would take to burn a minuscule hole into the bottom of the plane.
She misses the aerial shot of the Atlantic.
"I have a guest room, but you're going to sleep with me," Jessica clings to Krystal's right arm, suffocating her with love, chin clipped to her sister's shoulder. She takes Krystal on a navigated tour through her flat, pointing out the artwork, grown up furniture and little imperfections deviating from Jessica's normal style because the flat embodies New York in its prime; cultural, vibrant, and full of subtext. Krystal takes a finger across the mantelpiece, doesn't pick up a single particle of dust. Jessica has turned into an adult.
"I know what you're thinking," Jessica leads her away into the bedroom, away from Krystal's misguided judgment. "I don't have time for cleaning. Like at all. I've hired someone who comes once a week to do it."
Jessica's room is more of an accurate representation of herself. It lacks the New York flair, more resembling a monotone style hotel room. The sheets and blankets are all white and Krystal plunges herself into them, never wanting to leave it.
"I'd wish you stay with me forever." Jessica mopes, turning her face sideways to lay the guilt into every part of Krystal's core. Krystal avoids her sister's eye contact, bundling herself into the sheets and gazing out the window into a surreal glimpse of Central Park from a distance.
"I can't. Work."
They've had lunch in the city millions of times before but this time it's different.
"You're going to love this place. It's so new and eclectic. The food is substandard, but it's just so cool." Jessica never lets go of Krystal's hand until they reach the restaurant. It's nothing like their usual spots, nothing familiar about the braised duck and vegan lite soup. Krystal hopes they take the food to go and that they pick up a really good crate of wine on their way to the park. It starts to rain after they take their order and they stay put. It's a betrayal of the finest form.
"This shade of maroon would look great on you, Soojung." Jessica paints the sample lipstick on Krystal's lips, smacking her own in example of how Krystal needs to blot it to make it look pristine. When Krystal looks in the mirror, she looks foreign to herself.
She expects the rest of the customers in the store to stare at them, stare at the horrific shade of terror plastered on her lips. No one stares, and Jessica snatches the lipstick box out of her sister's open palm, running to the counter to buy it for her.
"You look really good, unnie." Krystal observes Jessica when they get out of their fifth Broadway show experience. The street lights hit Jessica in flattering angles and she glows like a creature finally finding its proper element. Her cheeks are large, plump, full of complacence. It's midnight and the night is still young, and Jessica thrives, tugging her sister in the direction of the Brooklyn bridge where more adventures await.
"So do you, Soojung." Krystal catches a piece of her reflection in a misplaced puddle. Weary eyes, pale complexion, the question of what are you going to do with the rest of your life written all over her expression, masked underneath the edges of her new leather jacket.
It's Wednesday and cramming every museum is a common theme everyone around them seems to share. It's exhausting. Krystal dreams of indoors, the white interior of her sister's bedroom sanctuary, the empty bookshelf placed for aesthetics begging to be filled up by Krystal. Sister privilege.
"Shit." She tries stamping it out but it's too late. Embers of evidence fly in Jessica's direction when she steps out of the last museum belatedly five minutes after Krystal has already checked herself out of. The remnants of her cigarette stay stamped underneath her boot, and Jessica observes it quietly, as if it's going to waken and explain it's existence directly.
"I'm sorry," Krystal tries, the cold New York air betraying her, freezing her breath full of smoke in plain sight, creating a barrier of distrust between them. "I've just been so stressed out back at home. Everyone keeps harassing me for answers. Explanations about you, expectations about me."
She throws a discouraged hand through her hair, almost not wanting to care when Jessica doesn't bother to hide her disgust. Jessica doesn't look in Krystal's direction on their walk home, keeping her arms crossed at bay.
"That's a bad habit you're going to regret."
Krystal regrets a lot of things.
Jessica is warm when she sleeps. Her breathing is calm, her atmosphere serene. She holds Krystal in her embrace tightly, overprotective and full of jealousy. "You're all I have left," she tells her sister every night before she falls asleep. She always falls asleep before Krystal. Krystal wraps herself tighter against her sister's shorter frame, nuzzling herself into her older sister's neck. Jessica's new shampoo is apple something terra cotta and Krystal finds herself missing that old familiar scent of vanilla sugar and everything sweet.
"Quit." Jessica pleads again and again. The week is reaching its end and suddenly Jessica looks less healthy and weaker like she used to. Krystal counts the white hairs creeping on her crown, notes the glimpse of wrinkles forming around her eyes that can't be hidden with botox.
"And do what?"
"Anything. It's all possible here."
Krystal debates it. Singer turned actress, model, artist, poet, traveler. Jack of all trades, master of none. It suits her sister's personality much more than it would ever suit her. Krystal pulls at her sister's wrist, fiddling with the large rock on Jessica's finger until it almost slides off too easily. "Buy me something yummy to eat."
"Quit." Jessica asks, states, begs one last time holding on to Krystal's biggest suitcase in the taxi. Krystal stares out the window, watching as airplanes set off in the air, fancy billows streaming pretty residue of travel. Her mind fast forwards itself into a vision of what life will be like when she lands again, the familiar whirl of being famous before being forgotten. She clasps her fingers around her sister's. Jessica's hand is suddenly cold, an alternative to its usual feel of something safe and belonging to her. Krystal stares up into the sky again. The wing of jumbo jet 747 aligns itself in her sight, embarking Krystal homeward bound.
"Please quit. Stay with me."
"I love you." Krystal says before breaking free and going back to reality.
"Promise me you'll come visit me more often," Jessica tears up in the background but Krystal already has put her sunglasses on and she refuses to look.
"I promise," Krystal lies.