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16 May 2014 @ 11:54 am

For:

aitibar
From:

illusionstars

Title: Novel Romance
Rating: R
Length: 2460 words
Summary: Kim Jungah meets Kim Jiyeon somewhere between the pages of a cheesy romance novel.

Kim Jungah meets Kim Jiyeon somewhere between the pages of a cheesy romance novel.

It’s the summer of Jungah’s second year of university, when the throbbing heat of summer beats down heavily on Seoul. They meet as interns at Howling Wolf Publishing, a new but promising publishing house in Korea’s literary scene. Jiyeon’s the definition of a model employee, always coming into the building early, always bright-eyed and bushy tailed, and her appearance impeccable despite the suffocating heat outside.

They meet when the two of them accidentally run into each other in the hall, both dropping piles manuscripts, still hot from the printer (and still unstapled) onto the polished wooden floor. Jungah had watched with dismay as the two piles of paper bled into each other, and couldn’t tell whether the garish horror story she had been assigned to edit had become a sappy love story.

She had been ready to unleash a barrage of angry words and insults, but a soft, lyrical voice had stopped her. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” The owner of the voice had dropped onto her haunches, her pastel pink skirt pooling around her as she tried to sort whose manuscript was whose. The other girl looks up at her, pink lips pursed together in distress, apology evident in her eyes.

She’s nothing short of a beauty. She’s gorgeous, in a traditional Korean way, even with minimal makeup. She’s small and petite, with long dark hair falling down her back like a black waterfall. Her eyes, large, and colored a warm honey brown, framed by feathery lashes that brush against her rosy cheeks when she smiles. Her skin is pale, unmarked from any of blemish or imperfection of any kind.

Jungah stays rooted to the spot, a surge of affection swelling in her chest for this girl, before dropping to her knees silently, taking a pile of papers and sifting through them. “It’s okay,” she mumbles, flicking her eyes to the other girl, a smile pulling at her lips.

The other girl smiles back at her with her eyes, and Jungah thinks it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen.

- -

In a way, Jiyeon is kind of like Jungah’s opposite. Jungah is small and petite like Jiyeon, but her hair is short and messy, eyes mischievous and almost always framed by immaculately winged liquid eyeliner. Where Jiyeon is all soft curves and features, Jungah is sharp and angular in an impish or pixie sort of way.

Perhaps it’s their differences that make Jungah like her as much as she does. There’s always something that she finds new about her, something that she finds charming, adorable, or even annoying that compliments her well.

As much as they attract her, their differences also repel her.

Jiyeon lives in Gangnam with her lawyer mother, college professor father, and accountant older brother, and that alone nearly makes Jungah have an aneurism. Jiyeon wears fancy brand name clothing, dainty skirts and colorful cardigans, drinks expensive coffee and goes to university at one of the most exclusive colleges in all of Korea. Her family’s two floor penthouse apartment is situated in Apgujeong. Apgujeong means house prices worth more than Jungah’s college tuition, Apgujeong means high scale clothing worth more than Jungah’s entire wardrobe, Apgujeong means people worth more than Jungah.

It also means that Jiyeon is worth more than what Jungah can offer her.

Jungah on the other hand lives in Gyeonggi, with her blue collar worker parents and her in-between-jobs older brother. Their apartment is homey, but cramped, suited more for a family of two than one of four. Jungah wears jeans that are either too tight or too baggy, band t-shirts and usually buys coffee at small family owned coffee shops not because they’re better quality but because they’re cheaper.
Jungah tries to make it seem like it doesn’t bother her, but Jiyeon seems to tell either way. She’s observant like that.

- -

Jungah first lets it slip when Jiyeon takes Jungah to some fancy restaurant near Gangnam after their first few months of dating. It’s business casual, and Jungah feels severely underdressed in her skinny jeans and button down. Jiyeon looks more in place, in her soft lavender blazer and pleated skirt, her tiny Oxford shoes shining in the dim light.

Jungah remains still until Jiyeon tugs gently at her hand, leading her to their velvet booth table. Their waiter gives them glossy appetizer and drink menus, talking a mile a minute about foods that Jungah only thought existed in foreign cookbooks. Jiyeon answers him easily, ordering for the two of them with a smile and polite “thank you”.

Jiyeon looks at her, affection in her eyes, along with a bit of shame. “Is this too much?”

“No, of course not.” Jungah lies easily, her heart rate speeding up anxiously when an old lady looks at her quizzically, hearing her Gyeonggi accent, practically foreign in Gangnam.

Jiyeon follows her line of sight, smiling in a perfect, cookie cutter way at the old woman, grabbing Jungah’s hand across the table. The woman looks flabbergasted, turning her back on them quicker than she turned around.

“We don’t have to stay, you know…” Jiyeon says quietly, her thumb stroking soothingly across the back of Jungah’s hand.

“No, no, it’s fine,” says Jungah, just as quietly. She grins in a cat-like way that she knows makes Jiyeon blush. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to see what rich people eat.”

Pink dusts Jiyeon’s cheeks, and Jungah feels her heart flutter against her ribcage.

- -

Rich people food is practically heaven, Jungah discovers once the two of them have downed their food. She feels bloated and happy, patting her stomach with a content look on her face. Jiyeon looks practically the same, her eyes glazed over in a way that only good food can do.

Moments later, their waiter sets the check between the two of them, and Jiyeon looks shocked when Jungah pounces on it like a cat. “J-Jungah, don’t—” the other girl starts. “I-I can pay it, just give me the check.” She whines when Jungah keeps it out of her reach.
Jungah turns away from her, opening the check and nearly chokes on her own spit. How many zeroes are in five hundred thousand won? How much did they eat? What did they eat?

Jiyeon plucks the check from her hands, slipping a black credit card between it and handing it back to their amused waiter.

“How rich are you?” Jungah blurts out.

Jiyeon looks bashful. “I don’t know, very?” Her bashful look melts into worry. “I-It’s not a problem, is it?”

Jungah shakes her head. “No, of course not…” she hopes that the nervous laugh she lets out don’t tip Jiyeon off.

Apparently from the look on the older girl’s face, it did.

- -

Jiyeon manages to drag Jungah to her neighborhood by subway. Apgujeong is smaller than she imagined, filled with fashionably dressed young people and expensively dressed old people. The grip she has on her hand is tight, almost painful, and she keeps looking up at her, her brow wrinkled with worry.

Jungah hears warning bells ring in her head when they reach an elaborately designed apartment building. The doorman tips his hat at Jiyeon, wishing her a nice evening, and eyes Jungah dubiously. Jiyeon grips her hand even tighter and tugs her closer to the elevator, smiling at the elevator attendant.

Jiyeon leads her to an immaculate white door, punching in the security code and walking in, pausing when Jungah doesn’t follow her. “Is something wrong?”

Jungah shuffles her feet nervously, peeking in at catching a glimpse of equally immaculate white interior and a staircase that leads up to the penthouse. “U-uh, I don’t think your parents would appreciate me dropping by unannounced...”

Jiyeon smiles again. “My parents aren’t home,” she reaches forward and tugs her inside. “They’re out on business.”

The door shuts behind them with a click and a whirring of the electric locks. “Do you want a drink?” Jiyeon says over her shoulder, walking into the conjoined kitchen once she’s toed off her shoes.

Jungah makes a noncommittal noise, and looks around the living room, catching the attention of a small Yorkshire terrier. The tiny dog trots over to her, its tiny tail wagging happily. “I see Byeol likes you.” Jiyeon says amusedly, walking over and handing Jungah a glass of ginger ale.

Byeol scratches at Jungah’s leg, barking happily when she finally gives up and picks him (she confirms this with a quick look under the tail) up. The tiny thing licks at her face, probably ruining her makeup with his slobber.

“Wanna see my room?” Jiyeon says innocently enough, plucking Byeol from Jungah’s hands and placing him near his food bowl, now full of what looks like organic dog food. Jungah nods dumbly, walking with her up the stairs to a penthouse bedroom, colored a soft shade of lavender, contrasting with the huge wall of glass separating them from the outside. Her bed is large, practically queen sized and covered with silken sheets with a higher thread count than what Jungah thought was possible.

Jungah registers a thick manuscript lying open on the coffee table in the middle of the room, freshly printed and stapled. “What’s this?” She asks, setting her cup of ginger ale on the table and picking up the manuscript.

“It’s a story I’ve written,” Jiyeon says with a smile, leading her to the white leather couch near them. “Just finished it.”

“May I?” Jungah asks, and receives a nod in return. Jungah reads, trying not to be distracted by the way that Jiyeon runs her fingers across her thigh. Jungah registers a romantic story about two different girls, from different worlds, who fall in love in the heat of summer. Her mind goes blank when Jiyeon nuzzles at her neck, her long hair tickling her shoulder.

Jungah drops the manuscript with a thud when Jiyeon throws a shapely leg across her lap, and all thoughts fade from her head.

- -

Jiyeon is a writer of romance, of prose and poetry, hoping that her internship at Howling Wolf will land her a spot in the literary world. Jungah is a writer too, in a similar way, but much more vulgar, in a way that is marketed to middle-aged housewives who are unsatisfied with their non-existent sex lives. The proper term is erotica, but Jungah likes to think of it more like romance with interest. What’s the point of reading something romantic if the characters don’t bang each other in the end?

Jungah writes novels across the smooth, untouched plane of Jiyeon’s body, across her hips, her breasts, to the dips and curves of the soft expanse of her stomach. The words on the pages take form as tiny marks, tiny love bites on Jiyeon’s flesh. Jiyeon is Jungah’s muse, from the way that she tangles her fingers in Jungah’s short hair when she goes down on her, to the way that her pretty face scrunches up in pleasure when she feels the pressure building up inside her until she finally breaks.

Breaking down Jiyeon’s composure is always an adventure. Maybe it’s the way that her soft voice chokes up whenever she gets too worked up, hiccupping in the most adorable way. Maybe it’s the way that the flush on her face can spread down all the way to her nipples. Or perhaps it’s the cute way she gets embarrassed whenever Jungah blatantly ogles her whenever she’s naked, batting at the younger girl with her foot to try and get her to stop.

Jiyeon’s cute. Adorable. Endearing. She’s kind and lovely, always worrying over Jungah like a mother hen. She doesn’t mind Jungah’s crappy university apartment. She doesn’t mind Jungah’s bitchy roommate. She doesn’t mind that Jungah is worlds underneath her, because, in her words, “there’s only one world when I’m with you.”

Jungah thinks she might love her.

Why, even right now, the both of them on Jungah’s patched couch, Jiyeon tucked under Jungah’s arm, warm and happy, Jungah thinks she might love her.

Jiyeon’s curled up with Jungah’s latest manuscript in her small, well-manicured hands. Jungah amuses herself by observing the faces she makes while she’s reading. Every once and a while, her brow will furrow, and she’ll make a mark with the red pen in her hand. A smile will tug at her pretty pink lips here and there, and a small pink flush will dust her cheeks. Jungah feels Jiyeon’s thighs clenching and unclenching, she sees her bottom lip being kneaded between her straight white teeth.

Jungah feels a bit of déjà vu when she becomes the one who nuzzles at Jiyeon’s neck, nipping at her pulse point. Jiyeon lets out a breathy moan, and Jungah takes that as permission to cup her cheek and envelop her lips with her own. A small tongue pokes at Jungah’s lips, no longer shy and hesitant, slipping between the two folds of sensitive pink skin to meet another, pierced through with a sleek piece of metal.

Jiyeon’s hands creep up along Jungah’s neck, clenching around the short, sensitive hairs at the back of Jungah’s head. The smiles against Jungah’s mouth at the little noise the other girl makes in the back of her throat. Jungah slips her hands underneath the soft material of Jiyeon’s blouse, scratching gently at her lower back. A laugh bubbles up in Jungah’s chest when Jiyeon pulls back with a gasp.

Jiyeon narrows her eyes at her before shooting her arms out and shoving Jungah back against the arm of the couch, straddling her hips with a triumphant smirk. “Gotcha,” she whispers against Jungah’s ear, sliding her hand up under Jungah’s shirt to cup at a breast.

Yeah, Jungah thinks to herself, she might definitely love her.

- -

Jungah thinks she could write a book about how much she loves her.

Jungah keeps her eyes on Jiyeon and writes. She writes about beauty, sincerity, wealth and love. She writes about broad smiles and crinkled eyes and straight white teeth. Jiyeon does the same. She writes about talent, strength, beauty and mischief. She writes about crooked smirks, playful eyes, high pitched, girly laughs (with an adorable snort).

They write together, about two young women who meet in the heat of summer, who make love in the coolness of expensive silk sheets. The subtle nuances between their witting styles flow together like a running stream of water, weaving between Jungah and Jiyeon at tiny different intervals.

Their editor doesn't think much of it during their meetings. "Too unrealistic," she says, "Too flowery," she says another time, "Too perfect,".

Yeah, Jungah thinks to herself sometimes with a smile. It is pretty perfect.

1. what is writing omfg i hope its somewhere
asking the lines of what you wanted!!