Series: chapter 3 - Spring
Word count: 923
AU: High school, College/University, Modern setting
Author: @fated_addiction on AO3
Additional information: romance, friendship, adulthood, growing pains
➿➿➿
the bottle of wine is empty.
or, wendy, irene, and the pains of growing up together.
➿➿➿
-
the bottle of wine is empty.
the second sits between them in the bed. watches the movie like an honorary member for the night.
"your bed smells weird," irene comments. she waivers and wendy chokes, watching the alcohol flush into her face. "like you spilled a perfume counter on top of it. did sooyoung break into your room?"
"probably." wendy shrugs. the movie in front of them blurs. she gives up and shifts, dropping back into her pillows. this is the first, real night she's had at her apartment. even thought it's been three months. "she said that the place is haunted and she was going to sage it for me. i told her to go crazy... except it smells like chanel and i'm missing my crock pot."
irene chokes. "sounds about right."
"she means well."
irene laughs.
it echoes in the movie too. wendy isn't sure if it's a good idea to have the television in her room yet. mostly, she's over moving. half her kitchen is still full of boxes. irene cancelled plans to help her unpack. instead, they've split a piece and their second bottle of wine is disappearing pretty quickly. sorry not sorry, she thinks.
alcohol is also a stupid idea. wendy feels her fingers twitch. irene shifts and joins her in the bed. drags the covers over her legs. shifts to come closer and ends up taking the bottle of wine. puts it on the floor - not before she steals a sip.
"this is nice," irene says quietly. sounds like she means it. rustles all those stupid feelings that wendy shoves and hides and prays for nothing to happen. because they're just feelings. they're dangerous and irresponsible. "your place," irene adds. "it feels like home." she pauses and corrects herself. "a home."
it comes out of nowhere. wendy makes no effort to mention the ring that sits in irene's bag. for someone else. they don't talk about the someone else. wendy thinks she might do something stupid anyway.
"i'm glad you're here," she says. gently, maybe. her throat burns a little. she even turns on her side to face irene. she's a little braver. "it's a nice way to settle in. i know we've been busy."
irene turns on her side. her eyes close and she laughs breathlessly. "busy," she agrees.
the color of her voice changes. wendy finds it unrecognizable. mostly, it's because she doesn't want to get into it. it seems dangerous. or hard. and she's long since promised: there's a line and they'll keep to the line. it's the silent agreement.
it's just that irene is here, right in front of her, in her bed and her bed isn't always going to be the same. it'll have the memory and the shape of irene's memory. it'll color and rest and write itself into how she decides to share this space with someone. anyone - anyone that's not irene. it used to make her angry. and sad. all at herself. because if she opened her mouth and said something, maybe the idea of rejection wouldn't be as scary. or sad. maybe moving forward could happen.
"i'm in love with you," she says, out loud. it's not alcohol-ridden. not completely. wendy feels it in her throat. "since high school, i think." she laughs too. "i actually think it feels like forever, but i really don't know how to navigate that."
"me too."
wendy watches irene's eyes open. "what?"
"me too," irene says. she licks her lips. "i've been in love with you for..." she smiles wistfully. then groans, hitting the heel of her palm to her forehead. "i don't think it matters when. it just seems like i've been in love with you. just don't remember when it started."
it's an impasse and wendy knows. knows irene well enough to know that she's going to be pragmatic about this. because they've kept each other in limbo for so long, that it doesn't make sense to do anything beyond that. or mostly, it's because they don't know how to be anything else. wendy, irene, and separate people.
wendy swallows. "i saw the ring."
"i know." irene's knee pushes against wendy's thigh. "that's why i brought it."
irene's always been a terrible liar.
so wendy looks at her, really looks at her, smiles sadly and then tastes the laugh - it unfurls from the back of her throat, almost in a panic, but mostly because she knows irene and irene knows her and this is how they stand.
"i wouldn't expect anything less," she says softly.
this much is true.
sex is quiet. on the kitchen table, just before irene leaves.
wendy bites irene's lip. hard. she's spiteful without meaning to be; especially since irene sinks between her legs with her mouth, shoving her tongue inside of her. because irene is just as spiteful when she wants to be.
"joohyun," wendy moans. drops her head back. her hands slam against the table, knocks the bags of the end. neither of them see: a wallet, the velvet box, a wad of receipts and concert tickets. wendy's nails drag into wood and irene bites the inside of her thigh, pushing her fingers inside of her too. "jooo -"
maybe she finishes. maybe she won't. but the heat explodes deep in her belly. and irene's mouth is slick and wet. her eyes are dark and wendy hates how satisfied she is that she'll bring that home. that she'll bring her home with her. inside, and inside her bed.
this is what it's like, adults in love.
➿➿➿
https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707681/chapters/31488177
