ulysses (1/3)
title: ulysses [1/3]
pairings: limejo
rating: pg-13
genre: romance
word count: 1378
summary: in which yoonjo is obsessed with literature and hyelim is a lazy bum
Shin Yoonjo ate literature for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Orwell, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and other various authors were stacked in a very disorganized manner on every available space in her miniscule bedroom. Each novel had been digested thoroughly, with small colony of florescent notes protruding from each, important lines to note lined neatly with a fat highlighter. The spines were worn and heavily used, though that came from the previous owners.
The ever so quiet girl who sat at the same table at her school library every day had a rule. She never read the same book twice.
For such an avid reader, who would abandon her school work simply to flip to the next page, this was an issue. As one would imagine, purchasing a large number of books on a regular basis was quite expensive, especially for a high school student whose parents both worked lower-paying trade jobs. The only inexpensive option to feed her appetite for books was the school library.
In a very general statement, one could easily admit that the small library was anything but a dream. Most of the books were best sellers, obvious choices that Yoonjo had already mulled over in years previous. Due to the lack of variety, she was forced to begin reading books that focused on European shipwreck sites and life of Colonial women in America.
To put it lightly, she was suffering.
Yoonjo wasn’t anti-social, she simply liked to read. It wasn’t that she detested other’s company or that she found it daunting to have a conversation. Reading simply took precedent.
Most of the teachers at her high school did not know much of her apart from her rather impressive essays and lack for zeal in her class participation. The two chatty librarians knew Yoonjo by name, simply due to the extended amount of time she spent there. She, however, tried to speak as little as possible to the duo (however, the younger woman with the plunging neck line and carefully drawn red lipstick did cause slight reddened cheek and overall spluttering).
More than anything, Yoonjo was invisible. How melodramatic. If there was something Yoonjo absolutely loathed, it was a melodramatic character. Somehow she had managed to become one.
“He’s a peach, that ------. Real charmer, isn’t he?”
The buzz from the library was humming as per usual, various teachers spoke (perhaps the correct phrase would be gossiped) in regard to the students they were currently teaching. A chill filtered through the area, due to the unneeded air-conditioning instead of an ominous atmosphere. If there was to be a positive point to the rather disappointing library, it would be the general mood. It was usually quite deserted, save for a few study bugs that spent the majority of their time preparing for their next assignment or quiz.
It was a space left untouched by the noisy and rowdy classmates that Yoonjo had to cooperate with for the entirety of the day. If she could spend but only her small breaks anywhere, it would be in an area remote and out of earshot from the crowd with her nose stuck in a book (regardless of the notion that it may or may not be something about wartime pilots or as equally unappealing to her tastes).
It was a particularly chilly day, it could have been the first snowfall but Yoonjo was too engrossed in South African frogs to fully verify the weather. She was seated with her back facing the only window in the library, with the cold autumn brightness pouring down onto her. This particularly aggravated the student due to the shadow that was cast on her book. She absent-mindedly ventured the idea of moving seats when something quite odd happened.
“May I sit here?”
A monotone voice sounded above the girl, who automatically shoved her face farther in the book in hopes of displaying some sort of obvious interest towards being alone. Several seconds went by in this fashion, until Yoonjo felt a flush creep up her neck and an odd sort of shame wash over her. It was quite rude of her to outright ignore the request.
“Of course,” She sounded gently.
The reply came far less apologetic as she had originally intended. No matter, she pushed the current situation out of her frame of mind and dove back into the Phrynobatrachus mababiensis species that interested Yoonjo very little.
Neither of the two spoke afterward, both focused on their respective activities. From the sound of scratching coming from the opposite, it was safe to assume that the stranger who had taken the seat across from Yoonjo was doing some form of homework. Perhaps she was writing an erotic poem. Highly unlikely.
Yoonjo had made a general rule not to look up at the individual as she felt she might have may have already missed the boat by a few minutes for that. On the contrary to what was first expected, there was hardly an awkward air to speak of between the two. Both had continued their tasks without disruption from the other, no meaningless conversations to serve as filler or questions regarding to what other was working on. Yoonjo enjoyed the simple silence.
The next day happened just as the last, with the stranger sitting opposite to the book worm, who had quickly scanned their appearance at the arrival.
The stranger was slightly boring, if not more so than Yoonjo herself. Her dark hair was messily slept on (One could still see the sleep still crusting in the corners of her eyes) and her uniform wrinkled but appropriately worn. Her face was covered by the mop of waves that looked as if they had sprouted from the other’s scalp like some sort of weed. Yoonjo had the feeling that she was looking a mountain woman. The bookworm was suddenly overcome with the urge to grab a pair of scissors and do a number on the growing mass that appeared to be hair.
This odd partnership continued for the next week and a half, past the point of the first snow storm, which left most of the students forced to bundle as many scarves as possible around their frozen necks. The temperature inside the school was still anything but toasty.
Yoonjo had finally cracked and purchased a used novel to compensate for the horrible excuses for literature that she had been reading for the past month. A Franz Kafka novel was held between her two overly delicate hands, being read extremely slowly. Yoonjo felt she had to savour the book like an expensive meat dinner as she knew soon she would be once again subjected to the library with all of its less than pleasant options. Her neck was bundled with two large knit scarves, the material reaching up above her lips for increased warmth. Most of the other students had done the same as Yoonjo, perhaps with slightly less zeal.
As her dark optics scanned the small printed words, a barely audible sound flitted through the air. Perking up from her novel, Yoonjo could see the sleeping form of the stranger whose arms were spread haphazardly across her school work. The steady rhythm of breathing set the reader on edge, the hair of the girl opposite her was pushed back (most likely to make napping slightly more comfortable).
A blush settled on Yoonjo’s face, the sneaking warmth across her neck and cheeks was far less comforting than the two bundled knit she wore. The other was far prettier than what was anticipated.
“Why isn’t she wearing something warmer?” Yoonjo inquired (to herself, no less) as she stared blankly at the bare neck and arms of the girl sitting opposite of her.
How was she not shivering? The goose bumps were visible from where Yoonjo sat, popping out like brail more than an indication of cold. Before she had realized it, the novel dropped to the table with a very quiet thud and her feet had taken her above the girl who frequented her table.
Unravelling the particularly large and warm red scarf from around her neck, Yoonjo wound the material gently around the sleeping figure. This was considerably more difficult than she had first imagined, and required quite a bit of time as she tried to her full ability not to touch the other.
After returning to her seat, Yoonjo picked up the worn book which had lain abandoned just previously, smiling lightly at the figure.
a/n
pretend you never read the description...
pairings: limejo
rating: pg-13
genre: romance
word count: 1378
summary: in which yoonjo is obsessed with literature and hyelim is a lazy bum
Shin Yoonjo ate literature for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Orwell, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and other various authors were stacked in a very disorganized manner on every available space in her miniscule bedroom. Each novel had been digested thoroughly, with small colony of florescent notes protruding from each, important lines to note lined neatly with a fat highlighter. The spines were worn and heavily used, though that came from the previous owners.
The ever so quiet girl who sat at the same table at her school library every day had a rule. She never read the same book twice.
For such an avid reader, who would abandon her school work simply to flip to the next page, this was an issue. As one would imagine, purchasing a large number of books on a regular basis was quite expensive, especially for a high school student whose parents both worked lower-paying trade jobs. The only inexpensive option to feed her appetite for books was the school library.
In a very general statement, one could easily admit that the small library was anything but a dream. Most of the books were best sellers, obvious choices that Yoonjo had already mulled over in years previous. Due to the lack of variety, she was forced to begin reading books that focused on European shipwreck sites and life of Colonial women in America.
To put it lightly, she was suffering.
Yoonjo wasn’t anti-social, she simply liked to read. It wasn’t that she detested other’s company or that she found it daunting to have a conversation. Reading simply took precedent.
Most of the teachers at her high school did not know much of her apart from her rather impressive essays and lack for zeal in her class participation. The two chatty librarians knew Yoonjo by name, simply due to the extended amount of time she spent there. She, however, tried to speak as little as possible to the duo (however, the younger woman with the plunging neck line and carefully drawn red lipstick did cause slight reddened cheek and overall spluttering).
More than anything, Yoonjo was invisible. How melodramatic. If there was something Yoonjo absolutely loathed, it was a melodramatic character. Somehow she had managed to become one.
“He’s a peach, that ------. Real charmer, isn’t he?”
The buzz from the library was humming as per usual, various teachers spoke (perhaps the correct phrase would be gossiped) in regard to the students they were currently teaching. A chill filtered through the area, due to the unneeded air-conditioning instead of an ominous atmosphere. If there was to be a positive point to the rather disappointing library, it would be the general mood. It was usually quite deserted, save for a few study bugs that spent the majority of their time preparing for their next assignment or quiz.
It was a space left untouched by the noisy and rowdy classmates that Yoonjo had to cooperate with for the entirety of the day. If she could spend but only her small breaks anywhere, it would be in an area remote and out of earshot from the crowd with her nose stuck in a book (regardless of the notion that it may or may not be something about wartime pilots or as equally unappealing to her tastes).
It was a particularly chilly day, it could have been the first snowfall but Yoonjo was too engrossed in South African frogs to fully verify the weather. She was seated with her back facing the only window in the library, with the cold autumn brightness pouring down onto her. This particularly aggravated the student due to the shadow that was cast on her book. She absent-mindedly ventured the idea of moving seats when something quite odd happened.
“May I sit here?”
A monotone voice sounded above the girl, who automatically shoved her face farther in the book in hopes of displaying some sort of obvious interest towards being alone. Several seconds went by in this fashion, until Yoonjo felt a flush creep up her neck and an odd sort of shame wash over her. It was quite rude of her to outright ignore the request.
“Of course,” She sounded gently.
The reply came far less apologetic as she had originally intended. No matter, she pushed the current situation out of her frame of mind and dove back into the Phrynobatrachus mababiensis species that interested Yoonjo very little.
Neither of the two spoke afterward, both focused on their respective activities. From the sound of scratching coming from the opposite, it was safe to assume that the stranger who had taken the seat across from Yoonjo was doing some form of homework. Perhaps she was writing an erotic poem. Highly unlikely.
Yoonjo had made a general rule not to look up at the individual as she felt she might have may have already missed the boat by a few minutes for that. On the contrary to what was first expected, there was hardly an awkward air to speak of between the two. Both had continued their tasks without disruption from the other, no meaningless conversations to serve as filler or questions regarding to what other was working on. Yoonjo enjoyed the simple silence.
The next day happened just as the last, with the stranger sitting opposite to the book worm, who had quickly scanned their appearance at the arrival.
The stranger was slightly boring, if not more so than Yoonjo herself. Her dark hair was messily slept on (One could still see the sleep still crusting in the corners of her eyes) and her uniform wrinkled but appropriately worn. Her face was covered by the mop of waves that looked as if they had sprouted from the other’s scalp like some sort of weed. Yoonjo had the feeling that she was looking a mountain woman. The bookworm was suddenly overcome with the urge to grab a pair of scissors and do a number on the growing mass that appeared to be hair.
This odd partnership continued for the next week and a half, past the point of the first snow storm, which left most of the students forced to bundle as many scarves as possible around their frozen necks. The temperature inside the school was still anything but toasty.
Yoonjo had finally cracked and purchased a used novel to compensate for the horrible excuses for literature that she had been reading for the past month. A Franz Kafka novel was held between her two overly delicate hands, being read extremely slowly. Yoonjo felt she had to savour the book like an expensive meat dinner as she knew soon she would be once again subjected to the library with all of its less than pleasant options. Her neck was bundled with two large knit scarves, the material reaching up above her lips for increased warmth. Most of the other students had done the same as Yoonjo, perhaps with slightly less zeal.
As her dark optics scanned the small printed words, a barely audible sound flitted through the air. Perking up from her novel, Yoonjo could see the sleeping form of the stranger whose arms were spread haphazardly across her school work. The steady rhythm of breathing set the reader on edge, the hair of the girl opposite her was pushed back (most likely to make napping slightly more comfortable).
A blush settled on Yoonjo’s face, the sneaking warmth across her neck and cheeks was far less comforting than the two bundled knit she wore. The other was far prettier than what was anticipated.
“Why isn’t she wearing something warmer?” Yoonjo inquired (to herself, no less) as she stared blankly at the bare neck and arms of the girl sitting opposite of her.
How was she not shivering? The goose bumps were visible from where Yoonjo sat, popping out like brail more than an indication of cold. Before she had realized it, the novel dropped to the table with a very quiet thud and her feet had taken her above the girl who frequented her table.
Unravelling the particularly large and warm red scarf from around her neck, Yoonjo wound the material gently around the sleeping figure. This was considerably more difficult than she had first imagined, and required quite a bit of time as she tried to her full ability not to touch the other.
After returning to her seat, Yoonjo picked up the worn book which had lain abandoned just previously, smiling lightly at the figure.
a/n
pretend you never read the description...