Characters/Ship: aespa giselle/winter Tags: post disbandment Permission to Remix: Yes -
There is an afternoon Aeri couldn’t seem to forget.
They are walking back to the dorm after a grocery run and not for the first time, Aeri wonders what exactly she’s doing here. The cherry blossoms pours like a cloudburst and none of this is her type of scene to be in. But the flowers are singing and everyone looks peaceful, basked under the pink warmth of spring.
This is their last grocery run before the news would break, and she wasn’t sure where a farewell would fit in a space so alive like this.
“Do springs in Tokyo look like this?” The question is asked as idle talks, but Aeri is familiar with this, the way Minjeong asks loosely of significant matters it’s almost easily brushed off.
“You’ve seen it before.” They have, when time had permitted the line of spring and their Tokyo concerts to meet.
“Yeah, when we were still a group.” Minjeong answers with a blade and Aeri accepts it in silence, holding her gaze steady. “I wonder if it will all be different after.”
[End of an Era: Aespa Addresses Disbandment and Gratitude for Fans’ Support for the Past 7 Years]
Somewhere in her second year of living alone, Aeri finds herself thinking of her last year in their old apartment unit. The floor of her home is slightly darker and the light doesn’t stream in as much in the morning. The distance between her bed and the kitchen seems cut short that it makes her wonder when has this changed so much.
She thinks about Minjeong, whom she hasn’t spoken to in a year, and has not seen in two. The last contact she’d had from her was a new year’s greeting, Minjeong’s friendly text wishing her a good year ahead. She had sent a reply, equally merry yet distant.
Amidst all, Aeri writes, phantom words waiting to be given a melody of life. She keeps writing even when she’s uncertain for whom these words are written.
At last she lets these words hang, settle where they will do so. It was always Jimin and her knack for words, Ning with her easeful ones, Minjeong with her honest blade, and Aeri is struggling to find hers right now.
Do you think we could go back to the way we were?
I don’t want to go there again, but I want to be with you, with everyone. To when everyone laughed freely and Jimin didn’t look like she’d carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, before Ning looked so lost and your eyes took on that cynical edge I am unfamiliar with, and I
I
We lost so much that year, even though we kept winning.
She doesn’t finish it, slips it within the scattered music scores on the table. These are hers to keep.
Three years in and Aeri visits Seoul. The week before she leaves for Tokyo again, Minjeong asks to meet her. It’s late as they walk along the sidewalk, and Aeri realizes the corners and turns of the street.
“I am really happy for you.” Minjeong declares. “You seem happy."
Minjeong will not lie to her. She will say, you are happy, or you are afraid, or you are too slow. She will meet you where the fight is, blade meeting you head-on. She will spare no tender mercies. This is how Aeri learns and wants to be honest too. It is because Minjeong is kinder than she knows.
"I am. I have everything I always wanted.” says Aeri. “Almost."
“Almost?”
“I don't know, I just missed being with everyone.”
There was momentary silence before it drops:
“You know, I think I could have loved you, all those years ago.” She says suddenly. The words startle Aeri, making her steps falter briefly.
“During aespa?”
“It’s weird to hear that name again.”
“What about now?” Aeri asks.
“Hm,” Minjeong is quiet for a moment, contemplative. “I could still, might yet.”
“I did once.” Aeri confesses. "During aespa."
Minjeong’s smile is sad and knowing, the passing years showing in the shadows of her face. “I know.”
Aeri knows regret when she hears it, when she sees it—after all, she’s written all about it. Regrets weigh on people in indefinite ways that need an eyeful to see. In Minjeong, she sees it lean along her shoulders, the lines of her lips, hanging there in the faint creases of her eyes.
Aeri thinks it over, considers the years that have passed and she cannot claim to know Minjeong now, not the way she did at twenty, with the arrogance of youth and the assurance of a place in Minjeong’s life.
“Perhaps,” she says, finally. “I might still do, just not the same way I did all those years ago.” We changed, from those days. I changed, and you, too. Those are the words she doesn’t say, but Minjeong nods as if she heard them.
“Can we still be friends, unnie?” Minjeong asks.
That one draws a rueful smile out of Aeri. “Are we not friends now, Minjeong-ah?”
Minjeong’s smile makes warmth bloom in her chest, and reminds her of long ago days.
They keep silent for the rest of the walk and part ways at the mart in the intersection. Aeri pauses to watch Minjeong disappear slowly, engulfed by the buildings and leaving a space where she once stood. She looks so far away it makes Aeri want to reach out and reassure herself that she is still and will be there.
Aeri thinks of her writings, the words that sit heavy on her floor, her desk, waiting in Tokyo. They can't go back, only forward.
There still will be words worth the write, but Aeri will stop looking for the Minjeong and everyone she once knew. Maybe when they meet again, it will be easier to reach out and bridge this distance.
Tokyo drowns in pink in a way that’s different from Seoul, and Aeri turns another year older.
[FILL] spring, you must have been spring to me
Tags: post disbandment
Permission to Remix: Yes
-
There is an afternoon Aeri couldn’t seem to forget.
They are walking back to the dorm after a grocery run and not for the first time, Aeri wonders what exactly she’s doing here. The cherry blossoms pours like a cloudburst and none of this is her type of scene to be in. But the flowers are singing and everyone looks peaceful, basked under the pink warmth of spring.
This is their last grocery run before the news would break, and she wasn’t sure where a farewell would fit in a space so alive like this.
“Do springs in Tokyo look like this?” The question is asked as idle talks, but Aeri is familiar with this, the way Minjeong asks loosely of significant matters it’s almost easily brushed off.
“You’ve seen it before.” They have, when time had permitted the line of spring and their Tokyo concerts to meet.
“Yeah, when we were still a group.” Minjeong answers with a blade and Aeri accepts it in silence, holding her gaze steady. “I wonder if it will all be different after.”
[End of an Era: Aespa Addresses Disbandment and Gratitude for Fans’ Support for the Past 7 Years]
Somewhere in her second year of living alone, Aeri finds herself thinking of her last year in their old apartment unit. The floor of her home is slightly darker and the light doesn’t stream in as much in the morning. The distance between her bed and the kitchen seems cut short that it makes her wonder when has this changed so much.
She thinks about Minjeong, whom she hasn’t spoken to in a year, and has not seen in two. The last contact she’d had from her was a new year’s greeting, Minjeong’s friendly text wishing her a good year ahead. She had sent a reply, equally merry yet distant.
Amidst all, Aeri writes, phantom words waiting to be given a melody of life. She keeps writing even when she’s uncertain for whom these words are written.
At last she lets these words hang, settle where they will do so. It was always Jimin and her knack for words, Ning with her easeful ones, Minjeong with her honest blade, and Aeri is struggling to find hers right now.
Do you think we could go back to the way we were?
I don’t want to go there again, but I want to be with you, with everyone. To when everyone laughed freely and Jimin didn’t look like she’d carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, before Ning looked so lost and your eyes took on that cynical edge I am unfamiliar with, and I
I
We lost so much that year, even though we kept winning.
She doesn’t finish it, slips it within the scattered music scores on the table. These are hers to keep.
Three years in and Aeri visits Seoul. The week before she leaves for Tokyo again, Minjeong asks to meet her. It’s late as they walk along the sidewalk, and Aeri realizes the corners and turns of the street.
“I am really happy for you.” Minjeong declares. “You seem happy."
Minjeong will not lie to her. She will say, you are happy, or you are afraid, or you are too slow. She will meet you where the fight is, blade meeting you head-on. She will spare no tender mercies. This is how Aeri learns and wants to be honest too. It is because Minjeong is kinder than she knows.
"I am. I have everything I always wanted.” says Aeri. “Almost."
“Almost?”
“I don't know, I just missed being with everyone.”
There was momentary silence before it drops:
“You know, I think I could have loved you, all those years ago.” She says suddenly. The words startle Aeri, making her steps falter briefly.
“During aespa?”
“It’s weird to hear that name again.”
“What about now?” Aeri asks.
“Hm,” Minjeong is quiet for a moment, contemplative. “I could still, might yet.”
“I did once.” Aeri confesses. "During aespa."
Minjeong’s smile is sad and knowing, the passing years showing in the shadows of her face. “I know.”
Aeri knows regret when she hears it, when she sees it—after all, she’s written all about it. Regrets weigh on people in indefinite ways that need an eyeful to see. In Minjeong, she sees it lean along her shoulders, the lines of her lips, hanging there in the faint creases of her eyes.
Aeri thinks it over, considers the years that have passed and she cannot claim to know Minjeong now, not the way she did at twenty, with the arrogance of youth and the assurance of a place in Minjeong’s life.
“Perhaps,” she says, finally. “I might still do, just not the same way I did all those years ago.” We changed, from those days. I changed, and you, too. Those are the words she doesn’t say, but Minjeong nods as if she heard them.
“Can we still be friends, unnie?” Minjeong asks.
That one draws a rueful smile out of Aeri. “Are we not friends now, Minjeong-ah?”
Minjeong’s smile makes warmth bloom in her chest, and reminds her of long ago days.
They keep silent for the rest of the walk and part ways at the mart in the intersection. Aeri pauses to watch Minjeong disappear slowly, engulfed by the buildings and leaving a space where she once stood. She looks so far away it makes Aeri want to reach out and reassure herself that she is still and will be there.
Aeri thinks of her writings, the words that sit heavy on her floor, her desk, waiting in Tokyo. They can't go back, only forward.
There still will be words worth the write, but Aeri will stop looking for the Minjeong and everyone she once knew. Maybe when they meet again, it will be easier to reach out and bridge this distance.
Tokyo drowns in pink in a way that’s different from Seoul, and Aeri turns another year older.
🔗.jpg
its raining sakura 12:40
jiminie
AHHHH
tokyo-saitama-osaka trip when? 12:40
ning yizhuooo
all of you give me your schedule 12:41
yangsan
🔗.mp4
there’s a lot of cherry blossoms here too ㅎ 12:42