from jessica's pov: her shine is common.
just once, she says, and makes a point in resting her head on your shoulder. you push her off with a shove that seems more deliberate than playful, and the realization burns in the back of your mind like a cigarette when she laughs like it didn't hurt and sits down on your bed instead. flipping through a magazine, her nails are a thick opaque black, but serious and angry doesn't match the way her brow furrows in confusion or the awkward shape of her mouth around tricky syllables. "that's last month's issue," and you steal it from her hands, arch your arm to tuck it between two dvds on the bookshelf. "hey i was reading that," she says.
"not anymore." you smile-but-not-really.
she broods like heechul, but less stunning. her shine is common; his is dull but still stings to the touch. he is quicksand and she is cornstalks. she is a scarecrow. but she serves her purpose, as do you.
"just once," she says again, hand on your thigh, like i don't really want this either, but hey. we're here, aren't we.
"you're disgusting," you hear yourself say, flipping her off. she lets out a little laugh that holds the air still.
"just kidding," she says. "as if i would."