ncjeah

[ncjeah]

periphery

@ncsangyeop

It's simple: she likes Eunbi and Kitae well enough, individually and when paired together. The feeling must be mutual if they'd been generous enough to pay her ticket in exchange for unofficial but obvious third wheeling. Labor isn’t labor until you think of it that way, and coincidentally, it also happens to be the kind of day spent best by idly killing time. So of course, Jeah doesn’t mind tagging along. 

At the theater, she has enough sense to sit several seats away from the lovebirds. The Florida Project is an unfamiliar title, with its own age and her own indifference. When the lights dim, old habits resurface. Like automatic, her eyes skip over faces, gaze drawn to walls, corners, patterns. 

When the movie’s over, Jeah walks out with not a single line of dialogue sticking to her memory but a head full of filled in spaces. The sugary purple of the Magic Castle Inn. The tangerine dome. The forest green of the baseboards. It’s a degree above cinephile pretentious, but that’s people for you, with all their different brands of arrogance. 

Blinking against the light that floods in from the exit, she lags, six steps behind theirs, then eight, ten, twelve before Jeah is simply standing in place, fully amused and half wondering how many more before they’d realized they hadn’t stopped for her, half questioning if this is her chance to steal away and fly solo.

The lineup of stores down the street says hell yes, and it’s the definite answer until there’s a faint tap on her shoulder that changes it to damnit, hold that thought. 

Trying her absolute best not to look miffed, she turns.

[ncjeah]

irene for hazzys

[ncjeah]

slant

@ncmiran​

They’re wholly consumed by the interior of Hollein’s Vulcania, an impressive feat of golden scales and postmodernism that retains its solid sheen even as a digital render. For fans of retaining illusions, it's best to never look up. Jeah finds this out almost immediately: she raises her gaze, nearly expecting a blue sky drifting above where the two halves of the cone-shape overlap, and there is nothing to see but the white of the ceiling rafters. 

Everything is until it isn't—that’s technology for you. Dimension will always trump a hologram without fail, but it’s hard to justify a whole first-class flight to France to admire the damn thing up close. So there’s only one way to go about this: refocus, look straight ahead, and keep on walking.

Stepping out, Jeah’s eyes fall to the back of the exhibit. Along the wall, they’ve set up what looks like a series of architectural drawings; naturally framed side by side to each sketch is the final built product. Column three is blocked out by a figure who inspects each one closely. 

When she is finally standing next to her, Jeah has to look just once and this time, there’s no illusion of the sort that is shattered by the motion. Only amusement if anything, both at the frame and the other woman’s expression. “Not a fan of the fifth one either. Too boxy.”  

[ncjeah]

smooches

“Now that’s more like it.” 

[ncjeah]

smerks

“Up to no good again?” 

[ncjeah]

/ˈlimənl/  adjective 

1. relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.  2. occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold. 

[ncjeah]

% ø & ✉

Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. (past)

[ ✉ → jeah ] can you send me[ ✉ → jeah ] a picture of your worst hairstyle[ ✉ → jeah ] i just need confirmation that you’re actually human, thanks[ ✉ → jeah ] also could use a laugh right about now so uhh chop chop

Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. (past)

[ ✉ → jeah ] fuck off you look amazing[ ✉ → jeah ] after this we’re going back to my place

Send “&” for a LOVING text. (past)

[ ✉ → jeah ] how did i get so lucky huh

Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. (past)

[ ✉ → jeah ] really wish you were easier to read[ ✉ → jeah ] maybe then i’d have seen the signs

[ncjeah]

✉ ✘ % ♀

✉ — A TEXT THAT WASN’T SENT

( TXT / Jewon ) Dad misses you the most out of everyone

✘ — A HATEFUL TEXT

( TXT / Jewon ) You not getting along with the rest of us isn’t what pisses me off( TXT / Jewon ) It’s you making mom cry because you’re not here that does.( TXT / Jewon ) What kind of son are you?

% — A CURIOUS TEXT

( TXT / Jewon ) Do you even know it’s not Mom who sends those packages to you?

♀— A HEARTBREAKING TEXT

( TXT / Jewon ) Come home.

[ncjeah]

✆, ☎, ø, ✘, @, &, %, ツ, $

✆ — A MORNING TEXT (PAST)

( TXT / Jeyun ) .image_attachment( TXT / Jeyun )  Caldo de castillo. Works miracles on hangovers apparently 😃( TXT / Jeyun ) What did you have for breakfast? 

☎ — A RUSHED TEXT

( TXT / Jeyun ) K

ø — A LATE NIGHT TEXT (PAST)

( TXT / Jeyun ) No…I won’t be able to come home at all until tomorrow morning( TXT / Jeyun ) Could you relay that to mom for me please? 🙏( TXT / Jeyun ) If she asks just tell her I’m studying over at a friend’s IDK be creative

✘ — A HATEFUL TEXT

( TXT / Jeyun ) For fuck’s sake, it’s not that hard. 

@ — A SCARED TEXT

( TXT / Jeyun ) Please pick up. 

& — A LOVING TEXT

( TXT / Jeyun ) Okay, but that bowlcut was hilariously endearing.( TXT / Jeyun ) Our very own future gagman, Oh Jeyun 👏

% — A CURIOUS TEXT (PAST)

( TXT / Jeyun ) So dad finally told you huh( TXT / Jeyun ) Batter up, baby bro

ツ — AN EXCITED TEXT 

( TXT / Jeyun ) Guess who bagged the internship? 

$ — AN ACCIDENTAL TEXT

( TXT / Jeyun ) What the fuck is wrong with you? Is your brain smaller than your stupid puny dick? Are you out of your goddamn mind? ( TXT / Jeyun ) Get that shit done BY TONIGHT, Jehan. ( TXT / Jeyun ) Oh shoot 

[ncjeah]

✉ ⁇ ✘

✘— A HATEFUL TEXT (PAST)

( TXT / Hyeryun ) Guess who got catcalled again on her way to class?( TXT / Hyeryun ) :)

⁇ — A DRUNK TEXT (PAST)

( TXT / Hyeryun ) Fuc k this aprty is terrible( TXT / Hyeryun ) But you’re not( TXT / Hyeryun ) your e so beautiful come over

✉ —  A TEXT THAT WASN’T SENT (PAST)

( TXT / Hyeryun ) The study abroad thing was only an excuse. ( TXT / Hyeryun ) I should’ve held on for longer. I’m sorry

[ncjeah]

ø / ⁇ / ツ

ø — LATE NIGHT TEXT (PAST)

( TXT / Keon, L. ) So you’re not a Twice fan like you said but a Sana akgae…just like my grandma ( TXT / Keon, L. ) What’s your sign? She wants to check for compatibility with her new beau

ツ — EXCITED TEXT (PAST)

( TXT / Keon, L. ) Honest to god I haven’t seen halmae look this lively in years

⁇ — DRUNK TEXT

( TXT / Keon, L. ) TT T( TXT / Keon, L. ) I still l haev it( TXT / Keon, L. ) he h

[ncjeah]

✉✿%

% — A CURIOUS TEXT

( TXT / Miran ) Thoughts on the National Library in Minsk?( TXT / Miran ) Personally I think they’d be better off making it a whole Rubik’s Cube

✿ — A SUGGESTIVE TEXT

( TXT / Miran ) Judging from how much you were trembling last night, I take it you’re the highly sensitive type

✉ — A TEXT THAT WASN’T SENT

( TXT / Miran ) Man, the kind of shit that’d hit the fan if you found out( TXT / Miran ) And if he did too

[ncjeah]

nckiyoon‌:

kiyoon is grateful for the blunt responses. no unnecessary pity or foul sympathetic vocabulary ever runs through her. at moments like these, he’s used to and in need of direct opinions of what he’s struggling with in the moment. her words are quick and clean, cutting into his own torments that have hazed his own conscious. it’s idiotic of him to not consider it a possibility ever since the eldest was taken away, even more when jeah declined even before kiyoon talked it out with her. the youngest, jeyun, it didn’t come as a possibility for him, perhaps because he’s still a child in his eyes. however, perhaps the imaginary line he was ordered not to cross long ago reminded him that he is still different than no face’s children. that kiyoon is still a nam and will never hold no face’s surname. 

it’s strange now to think of becoming a ruler of something greater than himself. bodies working under him, dying under him. would anyone support him if he ever became the leader? he continues to hold a high position, but he’s far from the man no face is. kiyoon could never be him which is why he continues to look up to him and promises to protect him no matter what.

“i could never be like him, jeah. i’m still weak… there’s still reluctance in me to harm no matter how many times i’ve done it in the past. if i’m not able to do something so simple, how am i supposed to carry on his legacy?” the yuripa is born from the blood of traitors, innocents, and undeserving men. kiyoon is apart of it and continues to struggle to keep a name such as the yuripa a feared and power hungry as it has always been. still, if needing to describe kiyoon, the only word needed is loyal. his loyalty to no face, to the yuripa, is strong beyond belief. his whole life has been about those two things and how to become better for both of them. how to serve and protect the two things he’s taught to love the most. “the yuripa is the only thing that has given me purpose. your father helped me become the man that i am, yet i’m still not good enough.”

he finally looks up at jeah after speaking his mind, knowing she’d give him a piece of her mind in just a few seconds. so he quiets down, almost doesn’t want to breathe as for the youngest one in the room holds so much wisdom that not even he could imagine he’s a grown man. 

Something has obviously possessed him, no doubt—or perhaps, has been possessing him until he could no longer stand tall to its presence. To their left, lace curtains pale as white orchids move by the window as if though they’d caught the tail end of a gentle breeze. Delicate. 'Hold a match to them and they'd catch flame' delicate. Can ghosts ever burn the same way? Leave the same trail of ashes? 

Kiyoon's words roll through the room, unspooling. If there's a beginning, there's a point where the last of the thread will come undone. But if anything has become crystal clear, it's certainly no ghost that sits between them. Relief should have been foremost on her part, inevitably. But the lack of certainty he has on display is grave. Jeah continues to stare, peering into the dark where he has finally raised his head. The sudden wave of exhaustion that washes over her is underwhelming. What is it, she wonders, with men and their bidding for the impossible? And who teaches them such a thing?

"That's not for you to decide." Likewise, there’s what time cannot teach her, no matter how much they have of it. Kiyoon could spend weeks, years even, confine her to the recounting of moments that are so far out of reach from her reality that they might as well be a figment of the imagination. Her father is one: warm to the touch, they know—you have to be, if you have that much blood in you to spill. He’s never raised a hand the way Kiyoon knows it. Has in the ways that Jeah doesn’t know of at all. 

She tilts her head, studying him. “I can’t speak on anything else, but I doubt he told you to be just like him.” It'd be ridiculous to attempt to make history repeat that way, but that goes without saying. They'd been there when it happened the first time; memories of Jewon's very last moments under this roof return with an inexplicable newness she's learned to despise. What's over, has been over. 

"If I were you, I wouldn't carry it at all. Make your own." She lifts her hands, almost shrugging, before dropping them back into her lap. "New face, new plans, new Yuripa. Simple."  

nightmare recall.

[ncjeah]

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

[ncjeah]

nckiyoon‌:

“never hesitate.” his feet shake under him, his face warm where no face struck along with the warmth of fresh blood of an innocent splattered droplets along his cheeks. the words echo through his mind and again he’s placed in the same position, yet older and more wiser than before. his feet continue to shake and the strikes keep coming, each time more violent than the next. kiyoon shields himself from seeing a massacre with each replaying scenario in this sick time loop of memories his mind is toying with. “never hesitate.” the voice repeats again, more angry and this time the person in front of him is someone he knows. he hesitates and with a single pull of a trigger, they fall like a rag doll. their crimson warmth flows and kiyoon this time is holding the gun. kiyoon draws a long gasps of air but avoids making any sound. sound equaled punishment, his body’s been accustomed to silence. 

the chair he’s rested in, however, creaks whenever someone moves in it, so before he could leave, he sees a faint image of jeah on the bed in front of him and already he knows his body had forgotten where it was and struggled to awake from slumber. he sits up as he avoids her gaze once his sight became accustom to the night, embarrassed despite jeah seeing him in worse states that now. it’s been so long since he had a nightmare this vivid, that even kiyoon sat there in shock for a moment before letting jeah into his mind.

“your father,” he speaks after a short silence to gather himself, not wanting to worry her at such late hours of the night. “he’s had high hopes for me ever since he met me.” it’s common knowledge between him and the oh’s. kiyoon was and continues to be no face’s special and favorite experiment. a loved creation that is almost complete with a bit more tinkering and dehumanization. “i’m very grateful for it all, but i did not expect him to trust me with… all of this.” he still doesn’t look at her, but it’s more in thought rather than shame. any negative feelings kiyoon feels immediately disperse when he talks with jeah. because of the woman in front of him, he continues to hold a bit of his sanity and a bit of the boy he was not able to be. “nothing has been said, but i have a feeling he wants me to take over his legacy… me. it’s insane, even for him.”

Christmas morning has trickled in, and these early hours feel like a held breath. She can't remember when she'd left the light on. It's not what stirs her awake.

Her eyes open at a sound. Soft at first, and then it is not.

"Kiyoon?"

Under the dim yellow glow of the lamp, the sight is startling: the man before her no longer a man but the boy she once knew. Quivering, brows knitted tight, as if haunted by some phantom terror even in his sleep.

His name rings out clearer this time. "Kiyoon."

Silence blankets the room, as if their days haven't held enough of it already. The holiday dinner was a quiet affair this year: two of their table of six missing, the chairs vacant, the ivy-and-holly rimmed plates left untouched. That had been nothing like any of the recollections from her childhood, but this particular scene is.

Jeah watches on from a distance, expression unreadable in half-shadow as he rouses from his seat. Vulnerable is a look she's yet to become used to: the way his eyes have darkened, unsettled with emotion, the wavering gravel in his baritone. A far cry from the stoicism he dons by day. As he keeps his gaze averted, hers remains locked in place, anchored.

"Tell me something I don't know." Her voice too, is steady as it is pensive. Power and its succession is predictable. Overwrought. She'd long removed herself from the equation before the weight could press against her spine. One less variable, one more pair of eyes to witness what would occur. 

But to not expect it at all? 

"You must be blind if you didn't see it coming." Her father's gaze is unmistakable in those times, that quiet burn of pride. She knows because she's been watched, has watched, and is still watching. Almost wants to ask, incredulous, Which way have you been looking? But the question is never raised.

Jeah leans against the pillows, feet tucked underneath her. “You’re his most rational choice.”

nightmare recall.

[ncjeah]

ncjeyun‌:

The two acclimate quickly to their surroundings, shedding their coats and handing them off to the hunched proprietress, who murmurs demurely if the lady and sir will have anything to drink while they wait for the rest of their party to arrive. Any gyokuro will do please and thank you, Jeyun hums, and with a delicate shuffling of her feet she is gone as if never there.

Jeyun’s claims the seat across from his sister and at the opposite end of the table, slinging his scarf over the backing of the chair. Build your own presence instead of relying on the collective. Emanate it as far as it will go, until it permeates every corner of the room.

The woman returns with a sizable kettle, glazed shiboridashi, and two thinly thrown teacups on a tray. She pours silently, systematically, and slips out. The fountain just outside their window bubbles on, flow of water gliding down rocks smoothed by years both kind and unkind. Warm in his hands, he gives one of the thimble cups to his sister and gives it an unceremonious clink. The most intentional of cultural blunders to be sure, but no one else has to know.

He lifts the cup to his lips. The broth is pleasingly vibrant and sweet, like taking a stroll through a rainforest. “I thought you might look at it differently. Oh Jeah’s first foray into art direction. It’s only a matter of time.” She’d proved herself as the Oh’s representative visionary based on doodles from childhood. She’d upheld her status at her senior thesis show five years ago. Her decision to venture into law had been something of a curveball—whether she’d done it for herself or with the family in mind, he’d yet to home in on.

“Mom’s got a lock on her contact book. We’d have to pry it out of her own hands first.” He laughs. It’s on the tip of his tongue to list off uncles and aunties and their grandmother who is always the first to call once she’s received her card, gushing about Jeah’s beauty resplendent before she catches herself halfway and states—voice neutralizing to its original contralto—how she couldn’t help but notice Jeah isn’t getting any taller.

No, halmae. She’s twenty-seven this year. Even if her face, unblemished and skin stretched taut and firm, hardly betrays it, her time’s passed. Jeyun unconsciously places two fingers to the patch of skin beneath his left eye. The loose puffiness there is sobering. They’re trudging onward in other ways.

“I’m terrible.” Jeyun says instead. “I can’t think of anyone other than Kyunghoon and Jinwoo. And it’s only because they came to me this morning with news of their engagement. Which is finally a thing, by the way.” Everyone else is a convenient, gray-streaked blur. Lost in a soup of fortissimos, debts, and headcounts. 

“Still, I’m not sure anyone actually likes receiving them. At their core they’re just disguised opportunities for moms to boast about their kids, right? Be it in the quality of the photo or the content of the letter. This year our boy James graduated from middle school. He will be attending Daewon in the spring and we wish him all the success in the world! Congrats, James! Or, Chaerin is doing great in her acting career. She filmed in Peru in June and Prague in July! She’s becoming more well-traveled than this old dog!” He frowns. “Come to think of it. What did mom say about us last year? I didn’t get a chance to see before she sent them all out. It couldn’t have been anything remotely interesting.”

The cup is held firm between her thumb and pointer, but she doesn't raise it to taste yet. Under the light, the color of the brew is true to the namesake. From the aroma alone, she's melting through the seasons quick: March frost receding for fresh, new pastures. Spring just can't come soon enough. 

"Real funny, Jeyun." He manages to coax an amused look out of her all the same. "Different themes, maybe? With a bit of practice and some sideburns, Dad could have the Scrooge look down to a tee." A step up from their usual fanfare: for as long as Jeah can remember, the cards have always came out nearly identical to the ones from the year before it. The same positioning before their ornament-studded Christmas tree, standing tall and poised in their long sleeve knee-length velvet dresses and chunky cashmere sweaters in variations of cardinal red and evergreen. They're all smiling, or trying to, at least—the photo revealing various degrees of tight-lipped discomfort save for (of course), Mom. Everlasting it seems, in her serene, elegant glow.

"She's going to do it for as long as she can." Jeah finally holds up her tea with a sigh. "Upholding tradition and all." There's no pause to savor the notes—a turn of the head, and the cup returns to the tray empty. It’s a daunting, but irreversible thought: them growing older, their parents old. Briefly, she wonders if the third person gone without mention goes through the same morning ritual that she does. Waking up to look yourself dead in the eye, and in that slit of startling disconnect between slumber and clarity, you really aren’t you. 

But that's a given in a way, isn't it?

"Oh wow." Some good news for a change. "After all that circling around each other, huh?" she chuckles. "There's Soobin with her new baby too, but I only know that ‘cause Mom told me." Pretending to know any more beyond that point is a lost cause, one Jeah certainly has no qualms over. Soon they will reach a point in their own lives where the family tree is no longer recognizable, with themselves as the two last branches dangling in the breeze, waiting for the fall. Gruesome. No wonder why Mom wouldn't let her take on the job. 

She resorts to toying with the empty cup. As Jeyun carries on, she can't help but pick up on the pattern in all of his examples. "You can't possibly be jealous." A certain playfulness colors her tone, complete with the lifting of the corners of her mouth. Still the baby, ever the baby. The cup is set back down again. "Since you can't remember, Mom wrote about how she was so happy to have you back home." Home: something that spells out another sort of promise. 

The sound of approaching footsteps signals the time: 15 minutes up, and this leg of their conversation folds to a close. 

Jeah straightens up, parallel to the back of the chair. She takes stock, and the number of heads she ends up with is not a pleasant discovery. 

“Hell of a night this’ll be.” She slowly stands to bow in greeting. 

Hell of a night indeed. 

reticent