chaelisa prologues: you switch from vodka, lime, and soda

you never got the girl who never got rid of your clutter

A/N: HAPPY ALTER EGO RELEASE! I have so many feelings about Lisa's songs, Rosie's songs tying up in my head (and reading Normal People after x years after watching it a long time ago), but I will park this prologue for a multi-chapter later while I finish my ongoing fics! Maybe someday!

**********

Lisa Manoban held two fingers up to the cashier, but her mouth seemed to forget how to speak when the cold hit her face. Her eyes gradually looked up at the air conditioner—still the same old, dusty box—'failed to harden nipples, failed at life' piece of junk, as she usually called it—finally serving its purpose again after six months of not functioning.

The cashier, named Lee Kwangsoo, cleared his throat, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You're staring pretty hard at the smokes today. Your nipples hard yet?"

"Fuck off, Soo-Kwang. I bet my nubkins that that piece of junk's going to disappoint my nubkins again tomorrow," Lisa shot back, raising her eyebrows and lowering them repeatedly to toy with Kwangsoo, who looked bored at her usual tease or nonsense jab at the air conditioner. Turning to look behind her, she checked if someone little was queued up behind her because her usual chitchats with Kwangsoo were never for the kids.

It happened more than once, almost every time she was there, that children got corrupted by her exchange with Kwangsoo—nipples, sex, smokes, and life—topics about life that people frowned upon or never openly talked about. Parents would eye her and Kwangsoo appallingly and leave the store. Kids would step away, sensing they were bad guys. She would crouch and talk to them, but that never worked because they were exactly the stranger danger around town.

Kwangsoo snorted, leaning his elbows on the checkout counter. "Get laid already, so you'll get a little less sad, Keats." He slid two packs of Marlboro Lights toward Lisa, then nodded at her outfit. "Not too shabby, his style."

Keats. Roseanne gave Lisa that nickname until her friends adopted it without even reading a single thing John Keats wrote, only because they knew he was sad.

Lisa instantly snorted even before she checked herself. "You'd say he died handsomely at twenty-five. Tragically handsome, huh?" Stretching out her arms, she flaunted her oversized black suit, pulled up both sleeves up to her forearm, and stood up straight. "C'mon, you know I won't die wearing such a classy outfit."

"Thought you don't want to be like any normal people, or at the most, break everyone's expectation of you." Kwangsoo chortled. "Everyone's going to be shocked seeing you like some dapper dude. Sharp. Proper. Nattyyyyy."

"Natttyyyyy... Nuttyyy," Lisa echoed, laughing briefly. She shook her head subtly, shoving her hands inside the pockets of her pants. She turned her head outside, her gaze somewhere far off, trying to connect with the distant past that was out of her reach. "You know... There's always something poetic about dying young. Being young forever, you know. Nobody ever hates you when you die young like that. They—They think there's so much in life for you—potential—but..."

Kwangsoo looked in the same direction, absently drumming his fingers on the counter. "Jae beat you to it. How young is he?"

Lisa hung her head. "Twenty-eight. But he did lead a great life, don't you think so?" Her voice quieted in the end as if she was asking a rhetorical question to herself.

"You could say that. Everybody does, but we're only outside looking in," Kwangsoo said, straightening up and pointing a finger at Lisa. "You said that. It's different when you're inside looking out—whatever that shit is, Keats. But he hardly ever scraped his knee or had to lift a finger—I mean, he's the son to a millionaire who practically lights up this town." He shrugged. "But did he really live happily? Greatly? Nothing against him—I'm just trying to change your narrative there about yourself. You're doing great."