Work Text:
Han So-hee knows what love is, and she knows for a fact that love is not found in a laundromat.
She just truly, desperately, wildly wants and needs Jeon Jungkook to get that through his head before he convinces her otherwise. That man is really too persuasive for his own good, and Han So-hee does not want to bend on this issue.
Jungkook, however, seems to have other plans.
“Can you leave me alone?”
“I love you.”
“Like, for one second, that’s all I’m asking. One second, I promise, after one singular second you can go back to bothering me, but like— One second, I feel like one second isn’t so much to ask. Just don’t talk to me, don’t say a single word, it’s really not so hard.”
“I love you,” he says again, and So-hee just sighs. Jungkook is kicking his legs back and forth, smiling at her hopefully like a child. Because, honestly, he might as well be one. Even at 25 years old, he acts like she used to when she went to the laundromat with her mother as a child. Looking at him again, with his hoodie slipping off one shoulder and his wide, doe-like, brown eyes staring at her pleadingly, she decides that he was far worse than her as a child, because she can’t remember ever being this annoying.
“So-hee,” Jungkook whines, grabbing at her sleeve as she turns from him, “I love you.”
So-hee, instead of looking at him, resolutely declares to herself that the moment she gets home she’s calling her mother to apologize for ever behaving slightly similar to the way he is right now. Her mother deserves ten awards, maybe a nobel peace prize, and, at the very least, ten winning lottery tickets.
Jungkook is her boyfriend, or he used to be her boyfriend before she wisened up and figured out he was no good. He’s pretty, and sweet, and fairly smart on the occasions where he uses whatever brain he has in there. He’s so funny that she has to sometimes grind her teeth together and zone out to keep from laughing or smiling, because to give in to his jokes means he has won. But he’s an asshole: an immature, reckless asshole that So-hee should want, does want, nothing to do with. So, she broke up with him, and that should’ve been the end of it.
It’s been two months since they broke up, and So-hee is still getting used to an empty apartment where he used to be. He didn’t live there, he had his own place with a couple of his guy friends, but he was over so often that he had carved a permanent place in her home. So-hee can feel the void where he used to be whenever she goes home.
In other news, So-hee has been spending a lot of time out of the house. Online forums say fresh air is the best way to get over a breakup, so it’s not like she’s being unhealthy. She’s fine. She’s so fucking fine.
So-hee takes the clothes out of the dryer and slams them into the empty laundry basket.
She’s fine .
When So-hee turns around to load the rest of her dirty clothes into the washing machine, Jungkook is still there. He’s quieter, not chatty or pleading like he’s been the whole time after she broke things off. He’s just... quiet; Maybe even introspective. He’s just looking at her with an unreadable stare. And he is not leaving. He sits on the washing machine and kicks his feet as she throws more clothing in, not even looking at it. She knows they won’t wash as well if she doesn’t shake them out, turn them the right side in, but the risk of Jungkook seeing something of his in her basket of dirty laundry is too high to risk. So-hee’s fingers catch on a loose string, and she knows from just the feeling of the fabric that it’s the old college sweatshirt she never gave back, the embroidered logo of white flames through a red circle faded and worn with time. She shoves it into the machine and then buries it underneath her own clothing.
So-hee can almost feel his stare, even though she knows it’s not actually possible. Something about his presence is heavy. Something about his presence makes her feel something complicated, and complicated is very rarely something So-hee likes to deal with. She sighs loudly, and gives him a pointed glare, and he raises his hands placatingly; an easy grin replacing the contemplative look he was wearing just moments prior.
“Shut up,” she says childishly, and she does not notice the way his eyes gleam at the recognition or the way his posture straigtens as she notices him. The whole reason why they broke up is because he never cared, because he was too reckless and messy and indifferent. He didn’t care about anything, and in the beginning it was fun, because he knew how to have fun and keep the fun going. But they’re adults, and going with the flow doesn’t buy houses or keep jobs or stay stable .
“I didn’t say a word,” he says with an audible smile, and So-hee hates the way he can reduce her of every bit of wit she knows that she has. So-hee’s smarter than this, she knows she is. She’s always been quick with words, and she’s always known how to make her words sharp to a point and sharp as a blade. Jungkook takes that away from her, and the worst thing is that he doesn’t even mean to. So-hee snaps away from him with a roll of her eyes and a grimace —truly not her finest moment— and barely notices the water rising in the building as she grumbles frustrations under her breath.
So-hee doesn’t notice the water until it’s about waist high, and she can’t see the tops of the washer and dryer units anymore. She swears, and pushes at Jungkook who is saying something that she refuses to listen to. The water pushes them upwards, and a silly, stupid part of her feels like she’s in Titanic; the movie, not the tragedy. Jungkook is still smiling at her, even as the water reaches their chests and they’re practically swimming towards the ceiling. So-hee, because she’s a genius, manages to push at him and the ceiling at the same time. He barely drifts away from her, but the water is reaching their necks, and one of those things is far more pressing than the other.
As they barely escape the laundromat —through the cieling, of all places, and then through the vents that lead outside— Jungkook is blessedly, strangely silent. He doesn’t talk to So-hee as they escape, just watches her with an unfaltering focus and care. When they finally are on solid ground, soaked in the cool, late night air, he keeps a steady hand on her shoulder. She’s nearly coughing her lungs out, the hand drifts to her back to rub soft, comforting circles. It’s off-putting, because Jungkook shouldn’t have that focus, doesn’t have that focus. He’s messy and careless , and that’s all he is. He can’t be anything else.
He can’t be.
So-hee has known Jungkook for years, has gone on countless outings alone with him or with his weird, codependent friend group or with his rotation of dogs that he’s always fostering or babysitting or adopting. She knows that he cares about things, that he’s given his whole life to his family and his best friends and his job and his passions. But, she knows Jungkook. She knows that he’s selfish and possessive and impulsive. So-hee knows that he thought he loved her, and So-hee knows that he still thinks he loves her, but So-hee knows better.
Jungkook dedicates everything in him to what he loves, and he dedicated himself to her. He loves her, according to him, but So-hee knows better because dedication runs out and love runs out and passion runs out. Jungkook is running on empty, and one day he would regret ever loving her, and then where would she be?
So-hee knows better.
She doesn’t even say goodbye when she leaves for the train. He’s still standing out in the nighttime rain, alone and soaking wet. She doesn’t look him in the eyes when she leaves, and she doesn’t turn around.
So-hee knows better. So-hee knows it’s for the better . She still does not look at Jungkook.
The trainride home is a long and silent one. She checks her twitter feed in an attempt to not make eye contact with any of the other people on the train, who are unsubtly staring at her dripping wet hair and soaked clothing. On the news, there’s a mention of a laundromat flooded by a freak accident, and So-hee catches a glimpse of a photo taken by the on-site reporters. In the background, there’s a man and he looks pathetic and exhausted and sad and determined. So-hee can’t look at him.
So-hee goes home to a pathetic, sad apartment, and she is deeply exhausted. She changes into dry clothes, and pins her hair up, and resolves to take a clean shower and change her sheets tomorrow. She passes out the moment she hits the bed, and she does not dream, because she never does.
She wishes she had, if only to justify the thoughts of Jungkook still remaining when she wakes up in the morning.
In the quiet light of morning, with music playing softly as she loses a fight with the omelette she’s attempting to make, she realizes that she cares a lot more than she wants to. She realizes that she cares a lot more than she should. It’s a startling realization, if only for how mundane it is. It crosses her mind leisurely, wearing the disguise of something normal, because it is something normal. The thought crosses the streets of her mind hand in hand with I’m hungry and Don’t forget to pick up mom’s perscription later and Is it embarrassing that I still can’t cook eggs .
I still love him , she thinks, and it’s completely normal.
I still love him, she thinks, and I still love him so much more than I should.
What makes her uncomfortable isn’t the thought, but the fact that the thought wasn’t uncomfortable. It’s an unsettlingly normal thought to have, like it’s lived inside her long enough to be comfortable, like it’s made a home in her mind.
What’s uncomfortable is that loving him is a part of her. What’s uncomfortable is that the love she has has settled into her home and her life and her routine. The love settles under her fingernails and in her hair, settles in the cat toys littered around her house and the trinkets that clutter her shelves and tables and workdesk.
She loved him and she loves him and she misses him.
In the soft light of morning, So-hee sits on her kitchen counter next to a plate of rapidly cooling eggs. Her legs swing and her cats bat at her socks, meowing and pestering her for food. So-hee doesn’t even look at them, her eyes faraway and staring down at her blindingly bright phone screen. She has a couple missed calls from a number she doesn’t recognize, and eventually just blocked once they started calling well into midnight, and one unread text message from an account she should’ve blocked a long time ago if she had any dignity.
Jungkook: we left our wallets at the laundromat.
So-hee takes a deep breath and steels herself.
So-hee: Thanks, I’ll pick it up there later today.
Jungkook: i dont think thats gonna work
So-hee: Why not?
Jungkook: they gave ur stuff to me bc my wallet was at the top of the basket and they assumed it was mine. the laundromat is still closed, is there anywhere i can meet u to give it back?
Let it be known that, usually, So-hee is a rational woman. Usually, she does not make decisions that will hurt herself, especially not knowingly, and she rarely ever makes rash decisions.
So-hee: Just come to my place to drop it off.
Usually , So-hee is a rational woman. Not always.
Jungkook: really???
So-hee: Do you not remember my address?
Jungkook: no i remember ur address ! i’ll be there in fifteen :)
So-hee: Alright. Drive safely.
So-hee is staring at her phone. So-hee puts her phone down, and does not scream or cry or have any other disproportinate and dramatic reaction. She is so calm and collected and not stressed in any way. So-hee is the most normal, well-adjusted woman in all of South Korea, possibly even the world, and one man will not change that for her.
To show how well-adjusted she is, she changes her clothes seven times in the mirror, and arranges and disassembles and rearranges a messy bun another fourteen times. On her seventh outfit —a baby tee and low waisted sweatpants with the same fuzzy socks— So-hee turns to see Hammer staring at her judgementally.
“Don’t look at me like that,” So-hee whines, throwing herself dramatically on the bed and burying her face in her hands.
Hammer does not respond, because Hammer is a cat.
“Don’t judge me, Hammer,” So-hee continues, “Not all of us can be nonchalant cool kids, you know?”
Hammer does not know. Hammer wants breakfast, not an existensial crisis.
The doorbell rings, and So-hee does not look up. The doorbell rings again, and it takes a moment, but So-hee flings herself up with wide eyes. She races out of her bedroom, checking herself in the mirror one more time. She looks perfect, because So-hee has always known that she’s gorgeous. But, this time, it’s not about being pretty. It’s about being cool. She slows as she reaches the front door, schooling her face into something that looks effortlessly calm, and opens the door.
“Hey,” Jungkook says, startled and looking slightly embarrassed.
“Hey yourself,” She says back, straight-faced. She’s so fucking cool. She steps back, and gestures for him to come inside. He hesitates, looking at her intently like he hasn’t been begging to be around her for the past month. She’s shocked he didn’t just open the door and sit on the couch all by himself.
“Are you sure?” He asks, and she rolls her eyes fondly.
“I’m always sure,” She says, lying through her teeth, “Anyway, I don’t know how you’d bring my laundry inside without, y’know, stepping inside?”
“Yeah,” He says, blushy and nervous, “Yeah, you’re right, sorry.” He stumbles through the door like he’s never done it before, like it’s not his thousandth time being in her house. It’s upsettingly endearing, the way that he’s a bumbling fool of a man.
“I’m always right, it’s nothing to apologize for.” So-hee says, shooting him a smile. She would say that she doesn’t know why she’s bothering to comfort him, but due to previous realizations that day, she thinks she has a pretty strong clue why. It starts with L and ends in oving this stupid idiot to an unhealthy degree.
He sets the laundry basket down in her living room, all of it dried out from being in police storage overnight as they emptied out everything that was once in the laundromat. It’s wrinkled, and she’ll have to find a new laundromat to rewash and dry everything, but it’s back in her possession. Marsh-ie and Hammer leave their spot at their food dishes and sprint as fast as their kitten legs can carry them to Jungkook, who laughs and crouches down to coddle them with babytalk and pets. So-hee remembers then that she has forgotten to feed them, so she moves over to the kitchen area, still watching him over the counter and thanking the apartment gods that she has one with an open concept kitchen and living space. She pours them both food and water softly, trying not to attract attention from them or Jungkook.
“Hi baby,” He coos, and So-hee flinches at the way she almost responds on instinct to the endearment. She turns quietly, but he’s immersed in Marsh-ie and Hammer’s antics, smiling softly as Marsh-ie bats at his hands and Hammer tries to climb up his back.
I love you, she almost says.
“Want some coffee?” She says instead, and he startles. She almost regrets disturbing him, but the cats have already left at the sound of her voice, realizing that breakfast has finally been served. He looks hopeful for a moment, and then deeply, deeply tired.
“I do,” He says glumly, and she furrows her brow in confusion at his downtrodden look.
“...But?” She prompts, and he looks downright murderous to the point that she’s almost worried for herself, before he finally stands up to look at her and his eyes soften to something sweeter. He smiles a smile that looks more like a forced grimace, and shakes his head.
“I’d stay, but the guys have been planning brunch for a while now, and Hobi would kill me if I cancelled on them this short notice,” Jungkook says. So-hee hums thoughtfully, and he looks at her nervously.
“No worries,” she says, “Thanks so much for coming then, if I had known I’d make you late for other plans I wouldn’t have asked.”
“It was my pleasure! The guys know that I’d do whatever you ask, so they won’t mind my lateness” He says with an earnest grin, and the worst part is that So-hee really does believe him. So-hee knows that he doesn’t even realize that what he says would be embarrassing for anyone else to admit, especially to their ex-girlfriend, and she knows that he doesn’t care. So-hee doesn’t understand that confidence, the disregard of any and every social boundary in a pursuit to show love for someone. She does understand the art of changing the subject though.
“Well, still, thanks for that. Have a safe drive over to brunch then, I won’t keep you waiting,” So-hee says, grabbing his jacket off the kitchen stool he draped it over and tossing it over his shoulders as he bends down to say bye to her cats. It’s quiet as Jungkook leaves, only the sound of residual cat purrs and the shuffling of him putting on sneakers. He puts the jacket on more firmly, and smiles hesitantly at her.
“Oh!” She says, and Jungkook takes a step back, eyes wide. He startles easily , So-hee notes absently, I don’t know why he’s so nervous.
“Yeah?” Jungkook questions tentatively, and she snaps her fingers at him.
“Hobi is the one with a dance studio, right?” She asks, leaning closer.
“Uh, yeah, he is. I didn’t think you remembered that-”
“Of course I remembered, I remember everything you tell me,” she says absently, waving him off as she scrambles around her kitchen for a pen and paper. She’s rummaging through a junk drawer when she calls over to him, “Wait just a second!” Jungkook’s barely paying attention anyway though, his eyes wide and his hand over his mouth as he repeats her words disbelieving under his breath.
“Everything?” He whispers, and she hums in questioning. He goes to ask further, but she shoves a notecard with a phone number and a name on it into his hands.
“If Hobi’s ever looking for a ballet instructor, he can call this number,” So-hee rambles, “It’s one of my cousins on my mom’s side, and she’s such a great dancer that it’s almost maddening. She’s a little annoying, but not terribly so, and she’s such a fantastic teacher-”
“Wait, So-hee-” Jungkook tries, but she’s still talking.
“And if he has any space in that contemporary class, tell him to let me know because my sister has been scrambling for a good dance studio nearby for her daughter.”
“I’ll have to ask Jimin, because he teaches contemporary. But, So-hee-”
“Alright, thanks so much, you’re the best in the world, I literally love you so much.” So-hee says breathlessly, and Jungkook feels just as breathless, the air knocked out of him. His face is a little pale and his hands are a little shaky, and So-hee frowns, lightly putting her fingers on his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, “You look a little sick, Jungkook, are you-”
I literally love you so much. I literally love you so much.
Oh, fuck.
Jungkook looks at her, and So-hee looks at him, both of them now pale and slightly shaky.
“I-” So-hee starts and then doesn’t finish, the words barely leaving her. Jungkook’s eyes are shiny, and hopeful, and So-hee hates herself for how much she wants to fall into them, into him. She loves him.
So-hee loves Jungkook. So-hee loves Jungkook more than she’s ever loved anything, and that is a big, scary feeling to feel. So-hee’s love could fill an ocean, and that is a big, scary place to be able to fill with love for one man, one person, one anything.
Love is a big, scary thing.
“I think you should go,” So-hee says, instead of saying any of that. So-hee is a coward.
Jungkook smiles at her, all sad and soft and patient. So-hee hates him. So-hee hates that stupid face and stupid smile and stupid patience that makes her feel cruel and evil and mean. She hates him and she’s terrified of him and she loves him.
“I love you,” Jungkook says, because Jungkook cannot just be reckless and immature because that would be too easy, but he must also be patient and loving and brave. She hums in awknowledgement, and he hesitates for a moment, but he leans in and kisses her right under her eye.
So-hee didn’t even realize she was near tears until right then. She doesn’t say anything, even as he fully walks out the door and slowly shuts it behind him. So-hee can’t even cry. She just stares at the wall and pets her cats and it’s so quiet. So-hee wishes she had begged Jungkook to stay for a few more minutes, if only for the sound of him embarassingly babytalking her cats could drown out what she hears in her own thoughts. There’s the leftover heat of a kiss right below her eyes, and she wipes harshly at her eyes, partially to clear the tears and partially a futile attempt to remove the sting of what could’ve been, if So-hee stopped being so scared all the time.
In So-hee’s apartment, where a light breeze flutters the curtains but the bright sun warms the floor, So-hee can hear the vivid sounds of an ocean flooding a laundromat and the impossibly clearer sound of her heart breaking on her kitchen floor.
So-hee loves Jungkook, and So-hee is terrified of loving Jungkook, and So-hee hopes that love is not found in a laundromat. Selfishly, So-hee hopes that Jungkook continues to love her and continues to wait for her, and continues to pursue her so that one day, she can love him in a place where she isn’t surrounded by baskets of her dirty laundry.
The dirty laundry, So-hee reminds herself with a glance at the laundry basket sitting innocently by her couch. Jungkook’s sweatshirt lies at the top, next to her wallet and a note in his familar bad handwriting that says ‘ I love you.’
I love you too,
So-hee replies, if only in her own mind.