It all seems a little unreal to him. And maybe it is, or maybe it's the fact that he dropped acid the night before and he's confused if what happened really did. Myungsoo doesn't know if Park Jiyeon really did suck him off last night, and he doesn't really have a way of knowing for sure.
Whenever it happens, it feels surreal, a little bit like a dream more than a trip. The next morning, it's as if it never did.
The first time he sees her, they're at a rooftop party on New Year's Eve and she's taking a swig of beer and holding a cigarette in her free hand, swaying a little too much and laughing a little too loud. He keeps his eyes on her, watching as she takes shaky sips from her drink and haphazardly tosses her cigarette to the ground before putting it out with the sole of her shoe. She's a vision in that tight red dress of hers and Myungsoo wishes he hadn't downed two shots of 151 because his feet are moving like they've got a mind of their own and now he's gonna hit on her and - "Hey there," he slurs, leaning on the railing next to her, turning to her companion and waving his hand at him. The latter shoots Myungsoo a dirty look before walking away.
Barely acknowledging her companion's departure, she glances at him in before laughing. "Um, hello." He just gives her a drunken smile and another laugh escapes her lips. "You alright?" She places a hand on his shoulder and he nods.
"I'm f-fine," he waves a hand at her dismissively, making her raise an eyebrow in amusement. "I'm fine and I'm Myungsoo." The hand on his shoulder moves down to his back, patting gently.
"Jiyeon," she replies. "You sure you're okay? You don't look fine," she notes, looking him up and down. He gives her this cocky laugh.
"Well, you definitely look fine," he says, biting his lip appreciatively as he moves closer. She raises her eyebrows and nods, lips pursed like she doesn't know what to say. When her gaze wanders away from him, an alarm goes off in his head and he's pretty sure she's going to want to get away from him soon, so he clears his throat and steps away, trying to ignore the buzz that he's feeling. "Sorry."
She turns back to him. "No, no," she insists. "Don't be." He smiles at her sheepishly before rubbing the back of his neck.
"I still am, though." He pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds, holding it out to her. "Care for one?" He grins. She looks at the pack then up at him, and he can practically feel her warming up to him.
A small smile graces her lips. "No, thanks. I'm not really a Reds girl."
He cocks an eyebrow in amusement and flips open the top of the pack. "I know, I saw you put out that Black Menthol a few minutes ago." Before she can call him out on watching her, he continues, "These aren't Reds." And she doesn't have to look inside to know what he means.
"No fucking way," she exclaims, stepping closer and wrapping her hand around his wrist, trying to get a good look inside the small carton, and there it is, ten neatly rolled joints of what seemed like some of the finest kush. He can faintly smell strawberries and vanilla underneath the scent of alcohol and cigarettes, and he finds himself leaning closer, eyes fixed on her. It's probably the stupidest thing he's ever done - he doesn't even let Dongwoo in his stash - but he doesn't really care once she looks up at him, face mere inches away and her eyes glinting mischievously.
He smirks. "So, you still going to decline my offer?" She rolls her eyes and steps back. He laughs. "Come on, let's find a place."
And it's ten minutes later and it's forty seconds until midnight when they're sitting on the floor in a broom closet a floor down from the party, snickering at each other as she passes him back the joint.
He takes a drag and takes her in with his eyes. Her dress has ridden up her legs slightly and her hair's all messy; she's giggling like a child and her eyelids are drooping, but Myungsoo smiles despite everything. He keeps his gaze on her, eyes scanning her features over and over again in the dim light. Suddenly she looks up at him, and he doubles over with a cough before she takes the joint in her hand.
Another laugh. She shakes her head and raises it to her lips, shifting onto her knees. "Man, you're high as fuck." He just grimaces and leans forward in an attempt to snatch back the spliff. She leans back, stretching her arm behind herself. "Wait your turn!" She laughs, leaning back. He presses a hand onto the floor next to her waist and hoists himself forward until he's leaning over her legs, his free hand reaching for hers.
Suddenly, loud voices reach their ears and they both collapse onto the floor. She yelps underneath him before giggling. "Ow." He hovers over her tentatively and looks over his shoulder, toward the door, listening to the noise coming from one story up. "Six seconds," he murmurs. When he turns back, her eyes are wide and cheeks are pink, and her hair's splayed out on the floor and Myungsoo just thinks, to hell with it, and leans down to kiss her.
Myungsoo wakes up on New Year's Day, cold and not so sure where he is. He can feel the cold radiating from the wooden floor his back rests on, and a few tentative glances around the bright room suggest that he's in a living room, so he figures he could accept that answer for now. He pats his pockets for his phone, sighing in relief when he feels it press against his hand through the fabric. There's this ridiculous aching in his head that is not unfamiliar to him, but there's also this sticky feeling on his stomach that definitely is.
He sits up, ignoring the head rush that disagrees with the sudden movement. "Please don't be jizz, please don't be jizz," he whispers as he peels his shirt upward and nearly exclaiming at the sight that greets him.
It's not any type of bodily fluid sticking to the skin of his stomach. Instead, he finds that someone's written a phone number and doodled all over him using red lipstick and what he hopes wasn't a Sharpie. Pulling his shirt back down, he tries to recall the previous night to no avail and eventually lies down again to soothe his raging headache, resting the back of his arm on his eyes.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" A familiar voice reaches his ears. He turns his head to the source, finding a tall man leaning against the doorjamb.
Myungsoo groans and rolls over onto his stomach, resting his cheek against the floor. "Fuck off, Woohyun."
The elder of the two laughs and walks over to him, nudging Myungsoo's stomach with his foot. "Up, up. It's like, three in the afternoon. We're meeting the guys in about," he pauses, taking a look at his watch, "an hour. Shower and head back to your place to change." Sighing, Myungsoo props himself up on his elbows and looks around.
"Speaking of which," he starts, "where am I?" Woohyun clears his throat and offers his hand to Myungsoo, who, with great difficulty, stands. The latter blinks a few times and rubs his forehead. "We're at Hyomin's. She's pretty pissed you went batshit crazy at the party last night, so you should consider yourself lucky she even let you sleep here."
"On the floor," Myungsoo exclaims, wincing as his voice bounces off the polished floor.
Woohyun rolls his eyes. "Under a roof nonetheless." He walks toward the coffee table and picks up a towel before tossing it to Myungsoo, who groans but complies, following him grudgingly as he leads the way to the bathroom. "You're also lucky she's not here to hear that, by the way. She would've thrown you out the window."
Myungsoo opens the bathroom door, grimacing. "I don't understand why I have to shower here before going home." Woohyun stares at him for a moment before bursting out laughing.
"Are you serious?" His laughs only grow louder as he catches Myungsoo's confused expression. He shakes his head. "Dude, check the mirror."
The younger kind of doesn't want to, but he walks towards the large mirror above the sink regardless. When he catches sight of his reflection, he's too shocked to say a word.
It hadn't been just on his stomach. Little red kisses decorated his face and neck, the pattern disappearing under the collar of his shirt. Grumbling, he yanks it off and scans the rest of his body as Woohyun's laughs become more hysterical. His eyes travel over the phone number and stick figure drawings on his stomach. "Fuck."
Woohyun shakes his head, laughter subsiding. "Man. Better save that number though," he chuckles.
Myungsoo turns his head to look at him. "Why?" Woohyun steps closer and makes Myungsoo turn around, exposing his back against the mirror. He laughs as Myungsoo's eyes register the flipped name.
"The artist of this masterpiece - absolutely beautiful, by the way - is Park Jiyeon."
Okay, Myungsoo probably should've figured this out because not a lot of people are named Jiyeon and, although they've never actually met and he's never seen her until last night, Myungsoo hears her name often. Like, a lot.
It's a little bit of an urban legend in a way. Everyone who runs in their group's circle talks about this girl Park Jiyeon, who is a little bit of an angel but also a little bit of a slut. "Apparently, she's like a cross between the ultimate girl-next-door and a femme fatale," Dongwoo had said after spending nearly an hour talking about her. (Of course, all thoughts had instead gone to the idea of two girls like that making said hybrid.)
So Myungsoo probably should've been able to piece together that the girl he had made out with was in fact, her.
But then again, he was coked out of his mind and drunker than ever, plus he'd smoked like, an ounce of kush, so he didn't even know how he was walking in such a state, let alone still alive.
He saves Park Jiyeon's number immediately. He thinks he won't even call it, but keeps it in his contacts list just in case, ignoring how Woohyun looks at him with this stupid face until he shoves him out the door so he can shower.
Word travels fast in their group of friends. It should, given that there's only seven of them, but Myungsoo finds himself groaning when he arrives at the restaurant and the others bombard him with questions.
Leave it to Woohyun to tell everyone.
Still, Myungsoo responds, although a little indifferently, and tells them everything they want to hear. Yes, her lips are soft. No, I didn't get to third base. Yes, we made it to second. No, she didn't put too much tongue to it. No, I didn't either!
It's a little strange for Myungsoo to get so much attention from them for so long, and he really doesn't like it. He had always managed to slip into the background, and liked observing their surroundings a lot more than starting a conversation.
This time, though, he couldn't, which explains why he hadn't been able to see Jiyeon passing by and falling in line to order.
Sungyeol does, though.
"Myungsoo," he laughs before cocking his head to the side, in her direction. Myungsoo nearly breaks his neck turning around, and there she is. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath as she abruptly turns to his direction.
"Hey!" She says, smiling. The breath he'd been taking catches in his throat. She walks over to them, stopping next to Myungsoo. He's still mid-breath, mouth slightly open and eyes focused on her, so Sungyeol kicks him in the shin.
Myungsoo snaps back to reality. "Yeah, Jiyeon, hey," he nods, standing up. He pauses, unsure of what to do. Should I hug her? Is a handshake too formal? He raises his fist for her to bump and even before she laughs he already feels like an idiot. He lowers his hand. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she manages through her giggles. "It was funny." And she leans up and presses her lips against his cheek. Oh, wow. He looks down at his shoes momentarily, his face heating up like a little girl's, before turning back to her.
"Ah, and these are my friends." He gestures to the other six sitting at the table, introducing each of them to her. "And this is Jiyeon."
They all nod and smile at her like they've never heard of her before, and Myungsoo almost wants to poke fun at them, but decides against it. "Do you want to sit with us?" He asks her.
Jiyeon shakes her head, her light brown hair swinging with every turn. "I'd love to, but I'm here to meet my-" she pauses, "-I'm here for a meeting." Myungsoo forces himself not to frown. "But I'd love to hang out another time," she puts her hand on his arm, eyes all big and brown and Myungsoo can't bring himself to look away. "You still have my number, right?" A grin appears on her face. He laughs and nods.
"Yeah, I do." Her smile widens and she opens her mouth to speak, but stops herself and looks at the entrance, spying a middle-aged man with thin lips and a receding hairline. The man raises a hand to her in greeting before settling down at a table by the window.
Her gaze travels back to Myungsoo, an apologetic look in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I have to go. Mr. Jung's arrived." She turns and flashes all of them a fleeting smile before walking away, but not before looking over her shoulder one last time.
The second time he saw her, he had been sober. He felt her lips against his cheek, smelled the strangely familiar fragrance of strawberries and vanilla even after she'd left. And Myungsoo knows that was real.
Myungsoo spends a good thirty minutes contemplating on whether or not he should call her right away, and a part of him still decides against it when he dials her number and presses his cell phone to his ear. He stops himself from shouting in glee when she picks up on the first ring.
He clears his throat. "Yeah, Jiyeon, it's Myungsoo."
A pause. He licks his lips, starting to wonder if he's saved the wrong number, or if he had copied it wrong, then - "I'm really glad you called." He smiles to himself, sitting down on his bed before lying down.
"You asked me to," he reminds her, and she laughs. "But I wanna ask you something, too."
On the other side of the line, Jiyeon's red lips curl up into a shy smile, cheeks tinged pink. "Yeah? What is it?"
"Do you want to go out sometime? With me, I mean." He curses himself for adding that last part, nose wrinkling. Stomach twisting, he raises his free hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as he listens to the silence stretching out through the phone.
"Yeah, I'd love to."
The first thing Myungsoo hears when he knocks on Jiyeon's apartment door is a thud, followed by a string of curses and, "Hang on!" He stifles a laugh before stepping back, just moments before the door swings open.
Jiyeon is standing before him, smile in place, one hand fiddling with the strap of her heels, the other propping the door open. She straightens up and tosses her hair back, catching her breath. "Hey," she breathes, half-laughing. "I'm sorry I took long in answering the door, I just-" she points over her shoulder and shakes her head. "Sorry, I'm rambling."
He doesn't hold back his laugh this time, and when it comes out, he swears her smile only gets bigger. He stretches out his arm. "I brought you flowers," he says, delighting in how her eyes light up as she takes them with her hands.
"Oh, they're beautiful," she sighs. "Peonies. My favorite," she adds. She turns to the side and sets it down on the table next to the door and picks up the leather bag sitting on its surface. "Should we go?"
Myungsoo smiles, nods. She folds her coat over her arm and steps out, locking her door behind her and locking her arm with his.
Their first date is a movie.
It's strange, given how they both met. The movie date, one of many the both have been on, is so normal compared to everything else they've experienced together. It's sweet and innocent, so unlike the messy, drunken first meeting, and Myungsoo finds he doesn't mind.
Like sixteen-year-olds, they hold hands in the cinema and do nothing further, aside from maybe a head on a shoulder and a kiss on a cheek.
When he walks her to her door, he's already swearing to himself in his head that this is where the night ends, that he has no ulterior motives. She stares at him, lower lip caught between her teeth, and she steps closer when they both stand outside her apartment. He smiles at her and places a hand behind her neck before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips.
It's short and sweet (like strawberries - he thinks, within a few weeks of whatever this is, he'll see a strawberry and only remember her) and it's so much better now that he's sober that he has to remind himself not to take it any further.
He pulls back, opening his eyes to scan her face. Her eyes are still closed, but there's a smile on her lips as she hums in satisfaction. He steps back, dropping his hand to hers. "I'll call you."
She opens her eyes slowly and nods, licking her lips. "Yeah. Thanks for tonight," she murmurs. He returns the thanks and raises a hand in goodbye before turning around and walking down the corridor.
Jiyeon faces her door and punches in her keycode. There is a soft beep and she wraps her hand around the doorknob, but pauses before opening it. "Myungsoo," she calls, looking up. He turns around, eyebrows raised and lips formed into a smirk.
"Would you like to come in for a drink?" she asks, hoping her voice wasn't too high.
He smiles and walks back towards her. "Thought you'd never ask."
As he steps into her apartment, his eyes first catch the dozens and dozens of pictures on the wall behind her television, the black frames neatly aligned and perfectly contrasting with the spotless white wall. "Make yourself at home," she offers, before stepping into the kitchen.
Myungsoo looks at each photo, eyes taking in a new face as he steps from frame to frame. A part of him feels that he should be bothered at how most of them seem to be guys standing next to her, but he shakes it off and opts to take a seat on the pristine white couch, just as she steps back into the living room holding a wine bottle and two glasses.
"'89 Lafite," she tells him, setting down the items on the coffee table as she takes a seat next to him. She pours them both a glass and hands him his with a slightly devilish smile. "This wine is heaven, believe me."
He doesn't know about that, but he does taste heaven in it when he leans forward and presses his lips against hers, tasting the wine on her lips. He kisses her like he needs her to breathe, and she finds herself panting slightly when he pulls away and takes a large gulp from his glass, nearly leaving it empty. She gawks at him, mostly from the kiss, before lifting the bottle. "More wine?"
The bottle's nearly empty when he pushes into her, hands on the arm of the sofa to balance himself. She's laying underneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, her lower back raised from the cushions. He buries his face in her neck, relishing in how her voice, moans and sighs and all, sounds when she comes, and it's all he thinks about when he does, bringing down his left hand to her waist and kissing her again.
She lays on the couch, still catching her breath, but lifts her head up to look at him and laugh. "I like you, Kim Myungsoo."