The Choices I Never Made (annyeongz version)

We Can Be True

Yujin wakes up with the worst headache ever possible to humankind.

The curtains are too white and cannot, for the sake of it, do its job covering away the sunlight from the room. It only filters the rays and sends some aesthetic feel to the room, none of which a currently-despicable Yujin concerns herself of because she feels her throat excessively parched and her skull being cracked in half.

She closes her eyes, brows furrowed together, in a futile attempt of internally pleading for her brain to keep its shit together.

From the excruciating headache, the vomit taste in her mouth, and the dehydrated feeling, Yujin figures she must have been drunk dead last night with Yuna. Her throat feels like sandpaper and moving an inch of her body feels like it's too much work.

Yujin miserably opens her eyes again and only realizes, after a whole minute of chastising herself for her awful life decisions, she's not in the right room.

She looks down on the bed she's on. It has clean, vanilla-smelling white sheets, definitely not Eunbi's coverless bed Yujin's slept on the other night. The walls are blindingly white, too much for someone like Eunbi who'd prefer warm white than any color in the world.

Magnolia citrus. It smells like Magnolia citrus. Yujin's head may feel like it's got an axe down to the middle, but her senses still work and her nose never fails her.

Eunbi uses a For Her Mercedes Benz perfume. White Floral.

This isn't Eunbi's house.

The thought is overhwleming, and Yujin feels another wave of excruciating headache hit her like an iceberg, eliciting a yelp from her lips. "Ah!" She holds tightly around her head, as if piecing it back together—to no avail.

She must have been too focused on gluing her skull together to notice the movement beside her, the bed dipping and the covers ruffling. Warm pads of soft fingers grab a hold of her hand, and Yujin freezes.

Who the fuck—

She opens her eyes and sees a pair of half-asleep brown orbs looking at her worryingly. Yujin's too taken aback to respond when soft hands tug at her hands, pulling them away from the hold she has on her own head.

Wonyoung's voice is raspy and half asleep. "Does your head hurt?"

Yujin can't even find herself to react, not because of the hangover but because Wonyoung's beside her, they're on a bed—perhaps even Wonyoung's bed—and...well, Wonyoung's beside her on a bed."

At the lack of response, Wonyoung's eyes open a little more. It's like the silence has waken her up. She's a little more aware now of the situation. "Oh, right..." with that, she removes her hold on Yujin's hand—it feels empty, suddenly—and reaches over to the bedside table to get the Ibuprofen and a glass of water.

"Here, drink this."

Yujin blinks first, still dumbfounded, before grabbing the pill on Wonyoung's palm and the glass of water, chugging the tiny thing down in one go, a little to desperately for her liking.

Once that's done, they wait for a few more seconds before Wonyoung asks, "How do you feel now?"

Yujin's still thinking if this is all just a dream. She doesn't have the guts to break it therefore she doesn't do anything and just...stares at the beauty in front of her.

Wonyoung's hair is disheveled probably from sleep, tiny baby hairs sticking out. Her face is devoid of any touch of makeup, completely bare with traces of sleep everywhere—her lids a little too heavier and the bags under her eyes a little too visible.