my heart, your hands | winrina

two

"no advice for this shit,

might die for this shit"

— LIMBO, keshi.

The redness around her eyes has mostly faded by the time she's off campus.

She doesn't bother going to the library to charge her cell phone; there's no point. It'll be crowded with students studying, and she doesn't want to run into anyone. Not after this morning. It's now midafternoon, and she's got one more class, but that's at night. And she'll be more prepared for it, anyhow.

By some miracle, the driver lets her on the bus without paying, and Minjeong sits, hazy-eyed, in the middle of the vehicle as it sways and swerves through highways. Her bag feels heavy on her back, her ID leaden in her pocket. Community college may be easy for some, but it isn't for her. The material itself isn't difficult. It's the time that is, and since time slips through Minjeong's fingers like sand, she is struggling. Everyone relies on her, all the time, and her eyes need to be open. She'll keep them open until they're bloodshot and watering.

But they don't end up staying open because for some reason, when Minjeong opens her eyes, she's in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Immediately, she knows she's missed her stop, and she sits bolt upright, scrambling to the front of the bus and hurling herself through the closing doors.

Minjeong glances around. This neighborhood is more urban- it's way off the highway. The bus seems to have stopped along a long street, one that runs through a whole town. Minjeong looks across the street. There's a cafe there.

Well, fuck this. She runs across the long street, careful to watch the street lights, and stops on the curb right outside the cafe. It's glass-windowed, with golden loopy lettering on the window, and an autumn-bookish kind of vibe on the inside.

Probably expensive. It looks expensive. Minjeong isn't sure what compels her to walk inside (thankfully, the cafe has bookshelves so she can sit and take advantage of them).

She drops her bags and buries herself in some antique romance novel. Buying something will probably be inevitable soon- but right now, she's going to sit until someone calls her out or her tailbone begins to ache. She needs relaxation, and she's not getting on that bus until she charges her phone.

Charges her phone! Minjeong's head whips around to find outlets, and thank God, there's one a few feet away from her, under a window table. She crawls closer, hand extended, a cord dangling from her hand, and-

Her head meets cold wood and she jolts back, startling pain cracking through her forehead. She's just rammed headfirst into a chair leg.

Stumbling back in complete and utter embarrassment, Minjeong sits back on her haunches, cord wrapped around her fingers and back against her backpack. Luckily, she's deep in the bookshelves, so no one really notices. Except whoever's sitting in the chair.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Minjeong looks up, and meets a pair of surprised eyes, and oh dear God.

The face looking at her has such stingingly perfect proportions Minjeong wouldn't be surprised if she was some sort of AI-generated creation. The woman has feline eyes, a V-shaped, small face, and a wavy black wolf cut that looks so sculpted it's perfect. Immaculate strands barely move as the woman leans forward, the edges of her black leather jacket creasing against the seat. "That was a rough fall."

Minjeong winces at the hint of a smile tugging on the woman's mouth. Her lips are perfectly shaped, and there's a mole just underneath them. "Yeah, I'm, ah, really out of it today."