SNSD || conversations in salamanca || yuri x tiffany
(x-rated) conversations in salamanca
yulti || pg-13 || 800 words
Prompt. || written for kpopficwangst 9.0's 15 Minute Challenge.
They buy the car on a whim, what's left of their cash, and drive.
It's stupid, utterly foolish, but so was running away. They might have destroyed everything running away, after all.
But if that’s the case, if they really did, then they’re set on making it worth it.
And here, in this car, on this road, in this country, Tiffany can't really bring herself to mind. She can’t bring herself to care about what she might have lost or the things she left behind. Korea's a long way away and America has always felt like home.
The road stretches out before them, lined with cities and abandoned barns and haunted houses, yellow straw, grassy fields and blue, blue sky and she can't really bring herself to care that miles and miles away there are people cursing her name and filing lawsuits and screaming obscenities behind closed doors. She doesn’t mind, not when Yuri is by her side, breathing in time. Not when the world is open and wide and hers for the taking.
Not even when the air is dry and the nights are cold and her pockets are almost empty.
She still has her license at least, and that’s really all they need. She drives, radio cranked up too high and ac on even though the windows are rolled down. Yuri sings along in broken English, when she recognizes the song, and laughs too loud when she mangles them all. She spends the days in the passenger seat, decked out in giant, candy-colored sunglasses, and oversized sweatshirts, shorts tiny and legs long and bare. Her hair whips in the wind and she grins out the window like she’s free, trusting Tiffany to lead the way.
Tiffany watches, out of the corner or her eye, as shadows and lights play across Yuri’s face, and she grins along.
They don’t have a destination, no real goal besides just living, and Tiffany takes the back roads and the scenic routes and the old dusty highways, leading them through dizzying circles and curlicues and doubling back on themselves more than once. They stop to see famous sights and quirky local delights, and they stop to walk through a field of sunflowers and to stick their toes into the icy waters of the Atlantic.
They camp out in cheap motels when they can, sharing beds and breath and walking down the streets with their fingers entwined, laughing and whispering and creating memories. They stop at bars and cheap restaurants and eat until they are full on greasy food and drink until they are red-faced and tipsy, collapsing against each other in helpless giggles. Tiffany charms their waiters with bright smiles until they are eating out of the palms of her hands, willing to give her anything she wants. Her English's smooth and flirty and her eyes are wide as she looks up at them through her eyelashes. Yuri watches her, eyes alight with amusement and toes pressed warm into Tiffany’s calves. The moment the waiters turn away Tiffany turns back to Yuri, lowers her voice and speaks Korean instead-says things that would make the grandmother behind them blush and the family next to them storm out in disgust, scandalized. Yuri just grins and whispers back.
They're lost here in this country where only one in a million can recognize their faces, and Tiffany spins tales and tells stories and feels happier than she has in a really long time, feels younger. She feels free. And Yuri follows her along, down the dusty paths and through cities with names she can't say correctly, butchering English and trading filth in the booths of family restaurants every morning, and mumbling promises into Tiffany's ear as they stumble out the door of bars, too drunk to realize she says them loud enough for everyone else to hear.
They can't understand though, so it doesn’t really matter. Tiffany takes her back to their motel or just the backseat of their beat up Chevy and makes Yuri make good on her promises, mouth wet and body warm and smile sharp and bright, even in the darkness.
It's like another world here, miles away from Korea in distance, but years away in memory.
They have all the time in the world here, it seems, and Tiffany’s determined to live every second, make each and every one of them count. She spends her mornings waking up slow and warm, legs tangled with Yuri’s, and drinking coffee, too sugar-sweet and burning. And she spends her days driving, and laughing and seeing the world, Yuri’s hand resting on her thigh and Tiffany’s heart caught in her throat.
The nights are the best though. She spends the nights memorizing the curves of Yuri's body while Yuri memorizes the curves of her smile, and somehow, someway, it feels like home.
|x| concrit always welcome |x|
yulti || pg-13 || 800 words
Prompt. || written for kpopficwangst 9.0's 15 Minute Challenge.
They buy the car on a whim, what's left of their cash, and drive.
It's stupid, utterly foolish, but so was running away. They might have destroyed everything running away, after all.
But if that’s the case, if they really did, then they’re set on making it worth it.
And here, in this car, on this road, in this country, Tiffany can't really bring herself to mind. She can’t bring herself to care about what she might have lost or the things she left behind. Korea's a long way away and America has always felt like home.
The road stretches out before them, lined with cities and abandoned barns and haunted houses, yellow straw, grassy fields and blue, blue sky and she can't really bring herself to care that miles and miles away there are people cursing her name and filing lawsuits and screaming obscenities behind closed doors. She doesn’t mind, not when Yuri is by her side, breathing in time. Not when the world is open and wide and hers for the taking.
Not even when the air is dry and the nights are cold and her pockets are almost empty.
She still has her license at least, and that’s really all they need. She drives, radio cranked up too high and ac on even though the windows are rolled down. Yuri sings along in broken English, when she recognizes the song, and laughs too loud when she mangles them all. She spends the days in the passenger seat, decked out in giant, candy-colored sunglasses, and oversized sweatshirts, shorts tiny and legs long and bare. Her hair whips in the wind and she grins out the window like she’s free, trusting Tiffany to lead the way.
Tiffany watches, out of the corner or her eye, as shadows and lights play across Yuri’s face, and she grins along.
They don’t have a destination, no real goal besides just living, and Tiffany takes the back roads and the scenic routes and the old dusty highways, leading them through dizzying circles and curlicues and doubling back on themselves more than once. They stop to see famous sights and quirky local delights, and they stop to walk through a field of sunflowers and to stick their toes into the icy waters of the Atlantic.
They camp out in cheap motels when they can, sharing beds and breath and walking down the streets with their fingers entwined, laughing and whispering and creating memories. They stop at bars and cheap restaurants and eat until they are full on greasy food and drink until they are red-faced and tipsy, collapsing against each other in helpless giggles. Tiffany charms their waiters with bright smiles until they are eating out of the palms of her hands, willing to give her anything she wants. Her English's smooth and flirty and her eyes are wide as she looks up at them through her eyelashes. Yuri watches her, eyes alight with amusement and toes pressed warm into Tiffany’s calves. The moment the waiters turn away Tiffany turns back to Yuri, lowers her voice and speaks Korean instead-says things that would make the grandmother behind them blush and the family next to them storm out in disgust, scandalized. Yuri just grins and whispers back.
They're lost here in this country where only one in a million can recognize their faces, and Tiffany spins tales and tells stories and feels happier than she has in a really long time, feels younger. She feels free. And Yuri follows her along, down the dusty paths and through cities with names she can't say correctly, butchering English and trading filth in the booths of family restaurants every morning, and mumbling promises into Tiffany's ear as they stumble out the door of bars, too drunk to realize she says them loud enough for everyone else to hear.
They can't understand though, so it doesn’t really matter. Tiffany takes her back to their motel or just the backseat of their beat up Chevy and makes Yuri make good on her promises, mouth wet and body warm and smile sharp and bright, even in the darkness.
It's like another world here, miles away from Korea in distance, but years away in memory.
They have all the time in the world here, it seems, and Tiffany’s determined to live every second, make each and every one of them count. She spends her mornings waking up slow and warm, legs tangled with Yuri’s, and drinking coffee, too sugar-sweet and burning. And she spends her days driving, and laughing and seeing the world, Yuri’s hand resting on her thigh and Tiffany’s heart caught in her throat.
The nights are the best though. She spends the nights memorizing the curves of Yuri's body while Yuri memorizes the curves of her smile, and somehow, someway, it feels like home.
|x| concrit always welcome |x|