Characters/Ship: ITZY Chaeryeong/Ryujin Tags: sorry for latching on to just the first part of ur comment.....i love girls who Cannot Read Each Other's Minds Permission to Remix: Yes -
“So what do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” Chaeryeong says, stealing another bite of the banana pancake. “But I’m not sure my judgment will mean that much. Yuna likes her food absurdly sweet.”
Ryujin flips another pancake, pleased. “I’m just trying to make sure that we don’t outlive our maknae.”
“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Chaeryeong observes. In just over an hour Ryujin managed to prepare seaweed soup, kimchi fried rice, and a yogurt parfait dessert thing that Chaeryeong sent her the recipe for on Instagram last week. No one else had volunteered to cook for Yuna’s surprise birthday brunch – Yeji and Lia sheepishly elected to sleep in after the eight hours of dance practice yesterday, and Chaeryeong simply had none of the skills required to do more than scrape Nutella on a piece of toast. She’d figured that they could just order some fried chicken and soup in the morning since Yuna isn’t sentimental about these things anyway, and foolishly decided to spend an extra hour scrolling through TikTok last night. When Ryujin woke her up at an ungodly hour this morning to ask for her help, Chaeryeong had been too grumpy to fall back asleep, but something about it surprised her too: that she hadn’t known Ryujin would care this much, and that Chaeryeong herself hadn’t been perceptive enough to even consider it.
Ryujin looks up from the pan. The sunlight beaming through the windows glitters in her hair and against the apron, bathing her left in yellow. Chaeryeong’s help in the kitchen was entirely limited to dialing the radio until she found a station whose music they both liked, but Ryujin didn’t seem to mind. Quiet mornings were rare in the dorm; Chaeryeong feels unexpectedly touched that Ryujin wanted to share this moment with her.
“Should this be part of my idol persona, too?” Ryujin jokes. “The dancer and rapper who likes cooking breakfast for people’s birthdays.”
“Won’t that limit your cool factor, though?”
“You think cooking is uncool?”
“I’m just saying.” Chaeryeong giggles. Out of everyone – “You’re so easy to read, you know. Everyone can tell that it’s just you behind the camera.”
“Ah.” Ryujin goes back to watching the batter. “I wouldn’t say it’s that easy.”
“You’re quite predictable, Shin Ryujin,” Chaeryeong says, though less sure of it now. Ryujin has this habit of holding her breath when she gets lost in thought, sometimes, like she’s trying to condense the present into a single focal point before it evaporates out of sight: at the park with a mask on, watching a group of twenty year old girls drinking beer and laughing so hard they topple into each other, spilling fizzy liquid onto their skirts; listening to Yuna swoon about the male lead in a drama as Yeji makes a face at the exaggerated curve of his eyebrows; watching Chaeryeong dance in their practice room mirrors and then not meeting her eyes afterwards. It would be so easy to ask why. But Chaeryeong is also the kind of person who will avoid any sort of conversation that might spiral into an emotional confrontation, and anyway, it’s easier to make guesses in her head.
Ryujin plates the pancakes and arranges blueberries in the shape of a racecar, which Yuna is bizarrely into these days. Someone’s alarm starts ringing in their bedroom. Chaeryeong’s still watching the curve of Ryujin’s shoulders as she takes a deep breath.
“I think,” Ryujin says, slowly, “I want to be brave instead.”
[FILL] skylight
Tags: sorry for latching on to just the first part of ur comment.....i love girls who Cannot Read Each Other's Minds
Permission to Remix: Yes
-
“So what do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” Chaeryeong says, stealing another bite of the banana pancake. “But I’m not sure my judgment will mean that much. Yuna likes her food absurdly sweet.”
Ryujin flips another pancake, pleased. “I’m just trying to make sure that we don’t outlive our maknae.”
“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Chaeryeong observes. In just over an hour Ryujin managed to prepare seaweed soup, kimchi fried rice, and a yogurt parfait dessert thing that Chaeryeong sent her the recipe for on Instagram last week. No one else had volunteered to cook for Yuna’s surprise birthday brunch – Yeji and Lia sheepishly elected to sleep in after the eight hours of dance practice yesterday, and Chaeryeong simply had none of the skills required to do more than scrape Nutella on a piece of toast. She’d figured that they could just order some fried chicken and soup in the morning since Yuna isn’t sentimental about these things anyway, and foolishly decided to spend an extra hour scrolling through TikTok last night. When Ryujin woke her up at an ungodly hour this morning to ask for her help, Chaeryeong had been too grumpy to fall back asleep, but something about it surprised her too: that she hadn’t known Ryujin would care this much, and that Chaeryeong herself hadn’t been perceptive enough to even consider it.
Ryujin looks up from the pan. The sunlight beaming through the windows glitters in her hair and against the apron, bathing her left in yellow. Chaeryeong’s help in the kitchen was entirely limited to dialing the radio until she found a station whose music they both liked, but Ryujin didn’t seem to mind. Quiet mornings were rare in the dorm; Chaeryeong feels unexpectedly touched that Ryujin wanted to share this moment with her.
“Should this be part of my idol persona, too?” Ryujin jokes. “The dancer and rapper who likes cooking breakfast for people’s birthdays.”
“Won’t that limit your cool factor, though?”
“You think cooking is uncool?”
“I’m just saying.” Chaeryeong giggles. Out of everyone – “You’re so easy to read, you know. Everyone can tell that it’s just you behind the camera.”
“Ah.” Ryujin goes back to watching the batter. “I wouldn’t say it’s that easy.”
“You’re quite predictable, Shin Ryujin,” Chaeryeong says, though less sure of it now. Ryujin has this habit of holding her breath when she gets lost in thought, sometimes, like she’s trying to condense the present into a single focal point before it evaporates out of sight: at the park with a mask on, watching a group of twenty year old girls drinking beer and laughing so hard they topple into each other, spilling fizzy liquid onto their skirts; listening to Yuna swoon about the male lead in a drama as Yeji makes a face at the exaggerated curve of his eyebrows; watching Chaeryeong dance in their practice room mirrors and then not meeting her eyes afterwards. It would be so easy to ask why. But Chaeryeong is also the kind of person who will avoid any sort of conversation that might spiral into an emotional confrontation, and anyway, it’s easier to make guesses in her head.
Ryujin plates the pancakes and arranges blueberries in the shape of a racecar, which Yuna is bizarrely into these days. Someone’s alarm starts ringing in their bedroom. Chaeryeong’s still watching the curve of Ryujin’s shoulders as she takes a deep breath.
“I think,” Ryujin says, slowly, “I want to be brave instead.”