Braids & Icebergs

Jessica Jung is very much like the real imitation of the ‘Fairy Godmother’ but instead of a flimsy wand; Sica uses her hands to create magic. Whatever Jessica touches, they turn into something beautiful.

Be it weaving and twisting strands of hair or sewing delightful, smooth velvet fabrics together, or just creating something out of nothing at all but what she really likes about it is the peace that it brings her when she’s doing them.

When your hands are gliding through fabric swatches or strands of hair; they do so on their own accord. Sica doesn’t think about anything else other than what section should be moved to the other side or whether she should do a double stitch or not. It’s mind-numbing; it makes the ‘Ice Princess’ happy.

“What time is Suho-oppa going to come?” Krystal’s voice filters its way through her ears and Sica’s hands stop braiding the younger’s hair.

“Any minute by now,” Sica replies carelessly, as if it did not affect her when in fact, it really does. Suho affects her in more ways than one. Especially whenever he would lean in closer than what was acceptable, making Sica’s cold glare waver and soft pink blushes stain her cheeks or whenever he would persistently walk her home every single day while swinging the bag containing the home-made lunch that he has diligently cooked for her. His mere presence causes such exaggerated effects on her both physically and emotionally.

“I can’t believe that you finally go out with him after a year of courting you.” Krystal stifles a laugh.

“I’m not going out with him. I’m merely just accompanying him to an amusement park because I took pity on him.” The blonde-haired girl lays out her explanation. For she herself never knew why she actually agreed and gave in to Suho. It might have been because of the time she caught him snuggling a comforter to sleep like a polar bear nuzzling its way through the pristine white blankets of snow for comfort and warmth and somehow, she found that endearing and made her appreciate the mousy-haired boy much more.

The door of Jessica’s room opens to reveal a Suho clad in faded denims and a simple navy shirt which makes him look like he just stepped out of the pages of an airbrushed magazine than a boy-next-door (although Sica silently thinks that Suho is one of those people who can pull anything off). “Are you ready?”

“Wait, just let me finish this.” Sica replies, a lump forming in her throat.

At once, she diverts her attention to her sister’s hair and continues to separate sections and cross them over to the other side, but unlike before; she finds herself having difficulties.

This is why Suho should never be there when I’m doing something. She thinks as she tries to move other strands of hair through the already-braided parts but she knows that she cannot do them again in Suho’s presence. His eyes were on her hands as she slides her nails gingerly though her sister’s scalp and Sica wonders if Suho can see how badly her hands are shaking now and how her palms were starting to sweat.

In his presence, her hands turn clumsy and the wires on her brain intertwine with each other until she feels like her thoughts are all jumbled up into chaos.

Sica shakes her head in determination and tries to redo the younger’s hair once more, much to the amusement of Krystal and Suho.

“Alright, let’s just go now.” Sica finally admits after five minutes of vainly trying to create something. She stands up from the bed and approaches Suho, with shaky hands behind her back. She doesn’t want him to see how nervous she is right now. She doesn’t want to let him know that he’s the only person that can cut through her like diamonds that scratch to sculpt. So she straightens her back and looks at him haughtily, as if she’s in complete control when in fact, she feels anything but.

Yet when Suho leans his head to the side with crinkling eyes and lips tilted up to a large smile that makes Sica’s insides flutter with metamorphic butterflies; butterflies that flutter their wings against the walls of her stomach, threatening to burst out, she knows that she’s in it too deep.

Sica scrunches her nose in mock disgust and gives Suho a shy smile, even though she wants to close the gap between them and plant her lips on his right now.

“Let’s go,” she turns her back at him and starts to walk ahead; feeling like an iceberg submerged in the sea of Suho’s warmth and acceptance.

She’s in it too deep.