what a feeling (to be right here beside you now)

Oneshot

It's the dress, Jungeun reasons to herself, watching, almost hypnotized, to the gentle sway of Jiwoo's hips in that shimmery dress. The low lights of the club they are in reflects off in all the shades of the rainbow from the silvery fabric, and Jiwoo is an angel made of sin.

She makes a motion to put her hand on Jiwoo's hip, hesitating at the last second. Jiwoo, all sixth sense and magic, looks at her just at the right moment, and put her hand there, skin slick with sweat and warmth, bringing Jungeun even closer.

Don't be shy now, Jungeun, she hears, only slightly louder than the music, and Jungeun doesn't know if she heard it or if she imagined it.

This was a bad idea in so many senses, but that train already had left the station hours ago, so she kept her hands on Jiwoo's hips and followed the music that had been set for her.

Jiwoo arrived in Jungeun's apartment one fatidic Sunday morning. Her mascara was running off her face in rivers of black, and red - red as blood and red as anger - filled Jiwoo's eyes.

She finally had caught Sooyoung cheating; she cried in Jungeun's arms (Jungeun, who had barely slept an hour after she got home from her DJ sidegig, but fuck if she isn't going to be there for Jiwoo, her best friend/longtime crush), and Jungeun soothed her.

Jungeun knew Sooyoung was cheating - specifically, with this blonde model new to the scene -, and so did Jiwoo. But what the eyes didn't see the heart didn't feel, right? So Jiwoo played pretend, Jungeun played pretend, and it was like the world's worst fucking game of hide and seek.

But that was for another time. Jiwoo cried until her eyes couldn't produce tears anymore, and Jungeun patted her back and soothed her.

Jiwoo sniffed one last time and fell asleep, spent. Jungeun rose, lit a cigarette and started making coffee. Her blood was close to boiling - Sooyoung and Jiwoo shared an apartment, for fuck's sake, couldn't she have fucked Jinsol literally anywhere else? -, but she couldn't pound down Sooyoung's door and crack her little perfect nose because she knew Jiwoo wouldn't like that.

So instead, Jungeun made coffee and went on a breakfast run, returning with frozen skillet waffles and her heart lighter after leaving a curse-filled message on Sooyoung's voicemail. Not like Sooyoung would care, anyway, but fuck if it didn't make Jungeun feel better.

Jiwoo said she had a plan. Jungeun lit a cigarette because she knows that none of Jiwoo's plan either work or are any good, barely looking at the girl as she circled in red pen the job offerings in the newspaper.

She showed her a dress, the material silver and shiny, and it looked just like something Jungeun might've seen on the runway of a fashion show. That made her raise an eyebrow, a silent question dangling off the top of her cigarette, ash falling in the table. It would stain, but what is one more stain on that piece of shit, anyway?

Jiwoo presented her plan: to make Sooyoung jealous, simply put. If Jungeun wanted in, she was welcome to, but so far, Jiwoo planned on donning that dress (so short, so short and tight; Jungeun would've killed to see Jiwoo in that) and going to the party Sooyoung always went on Saturday nights. It's like clockwork, she reasons, even if it isn't, and Jungeun fingers the cold fabric.

Jiwoo in that dress: it might be too much for her to bear.

She grinned, saying instead: the girls won't leave you alone, Jiwoo. Let's do it.

Jungeun put on her cleanest leather jacket and her hair in a ponytail. She doesn't look at Jiwoo, bent by her side and applying what is too much makeup for her usual tastes, staring at her own reflection in the slightly grimy mirror. She was focused on making sure her eyelashes look big and full, eyes bigger than usual, and Jungeun had to suppress a chuckle.