Chapter Text
"You can just kiss me now."
Soojin scoffs, "Bold of you to assume I want to."
The sound of a chair scraping against the tile cuts through the silence of the library like a hot knife through butter. "What can I say, I'm a bold person." Shuhua collapses into the chair with a smug smile.
"And an idiot," Soojin adds as she rolls her eyes, "How did you find me?"
Hand clasped over her heart, Shuhua gasps, "Oh babe, I followed my heart!"
Next to Soojin, a woman hunched over a stack of books ushers out a seething shush to accompany her withering gaze. "Soyeon sold me out didn't she?" Turning the page of her book, Soojin clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, "How much did you have to pay to get her to talk?"
It’s Shuhua’s turn to scoff, "Pay? Please, Yeh Shuhua does not pay—"
Finger marking the page, Soojin leans back in her chair. Her eyes naturally travel upward, settling on Shuhua with a pointed glare.
"Chores for three months and Joe's Pizza for a month." The words rush out in an abnormally high pitched squeak.
If the seething table woman was angry before, she is down right murderous now. "Excuse me, this is a—"
"— public library," Soojin interrupts, pointing to the colourful sign hanging over the librarian's desk. "If you wanted silence, you should have tried References on the fourth floor. It's a tomb."
The woman returns to her books, but not without a humph and a flashy show of pulling out her headphones.
"Three months of chores and Joe's Pizza?" Soojin let's out a low whistle, "I know you're not poor Shuhua, but that's a little steep. Even for you."
Picking at the invisible lint on the sleeve of her cashmere sweater, Shuhua shrugs, "It's nothing." The original boldness is gone, replaced by a casual air of indifference.
"You hate cleaning more than Soyeon." Soojin points out the obvious lie. "What did you do?"
“Why would you assume I’ve done something? I’m innocent," Shuhua defends as she crosses her arms over her chest. The way she huffs and sinks further into the chair is suspicious to say the least.
"Shuhua." It isn't a statement, it is a demand.
"Okay, so there's this musical, Bombshell—"
"It sold out." Soojin cuts in. The musical is a New York classic. An exclusive charity musical for the high rollers, where the cheap seats go for more than a month’s rent in an Upper Manhattan, hole in the wall, studio apartment. “Last year.”
"Did it? That’s weird." The air of nonchalance deflates like a popped balloon the moment Shuhua stops fidgeting with her eyes and catches Soojin's stare. “I had a few friends who didn't want to go,” is the nonsense Shuhua spews out. "So?" There is an expectant look in Shuhua's eyes.
"What?" The ire from her thoughts seeps into her tone.
"Will you go?" Beneath the cocky veneer is a tremor in her words, indistinguishable to the untrained eye.
"I'll think about it." Soojin deadpans.
"Babe!" Shuhua whines, arms uncoiled and flailing like a child. "Babe, come on!"
Cheeks fire engine red at the term of endearment, Soojin huffs, "I said I'll think about it."
Shuhua melts in her chair, folding to the floor in a puddle of whining, human goo.
The public floor is grimy, covered in the filth of years worth of use that no machine will ever remove. "Shuhua, get up. Have some dignity."
Crawling back into the chair, Shuhua pouts.
"Stop that. You look like a child." Soojin tuts. The muscles in her cheeks fight to withhold a smile from her lips.
The pout only deepens until a spark of joy ignites and Shuhua is down on one knee. "Babe," she starts, scooching forward to grab ahold of Soojin's hand, book and all, before continuing on, "Love of my life. Will you make me the happiest idiot around, and come with me to that grossly overpriced musical you've been dying to see for years?"
Like a Christmas miracle, the woman beside them can suddenly hear again. But instead of shush ing sounds, she is oohing and ahhing , mouthing an apology for what is most certainly a terrible misunderstanding.
"So you can finally have your way with me, in the shadows of the balcony, as we overlook— Ow, ow, ow, ow! Babe!" Shuhua clutches her head in an attempt to fend off the book Soojin swats at her again and again.
"I hope it hurts." Soojin grounds out, cheeks burning. Attention refocused on the page she left off, Soojin mumbles, "Just pick me up at six."
Shuhua doesn't dance. Much. It's more an awkward squat wobble of sorts with an irritatingly smug grin. Leaning forward, elbows on the arm of Soojin's chair, Shuhua beams, "Babe?"
Eyes focused on the tiny black font, Soojin hums.
"You can kiss me now."
Like fire twisting and contorting matter under its blazing inferno, the tail ends of Soojin’s lips curl upward, "Still bold of you to assume."