Wendy's knees are soaked with fragility.

 

She's not prepared for a surprise that leaves Yeri's lips; an impromptu condition for staying the night:

 

(“Share the bed with Wendy unnie tonight or else I'm leaving.”)

 

But time isn't kind to her, her legs giving out from a trembling heart before she could back away – avoid getting caught. Wendy's teetering forward and all she has is a moment to grab on the knob to help steady her feet.

 

It doesn't do much though, when can't help but utter a squeak, staggering into a conversation that should not have been heard by her in the first place.

 

Wendy manages to stand upright again, catching Joohyun's wide eyes and jaw hanging open.

 

Her brain is already whirring away with excuses for her intrusion.

 

“Seungwan? What are you doing here?”

 

Out of all the things Wendy could think of, the only one that rattles her brain at the moment is “I’ve missed you” – something that is completely inappropriate given the circumstances.

 

Waking up to purple words scribbled on tiny notes, and breakfasts made too early that they go cold – Wendy can't think of anything more than what is engraved in her chest.

 

But that's not what she should say, because Yeri's here and Wendy's not going to hurt her like that.

 

Joohyun's already walking closer that it makes Wendy meek at the sudden undivided attention. Wendy fiddles with the hem of her sweater, looking up between bangs that shield part of her eyes.

 

Joohyun looks nervous, how she's biting her lip, as if forcing words to not leave .

 

(“Seungwan's all I see now.”)

 

Wendy could feel the blush paint her cheeks at the memory, crossing the planes of her neck to color heat even along her ears.

 

“I just wanted a glass of water, but I noticed your boots by the door, Hyun, so...” Wendy's curling auburn behind her ear, “...so I thought I should let you know that Yeri was staying over.”

 

That was true enough, Wendy thinks. Joohyun doesn't need to know that she had lingered behind the door, listened in to what should've been kept private between the two of them.

 

Wendy hadn't planned on listening in, but there was a certain spark in Yeri's eyes when their gazes met as soon as she peeked through, as if to command her to play witness to their exchange.

 

“Wendy unnie was kind enough to let me stay the night,” Yeri's voice punctures the air, “Aren't you supposed to be sleeping over at Joy unnie's?”

 

Wendy watches Joohyun spin back around to Yeri, her head tilting at the question, as if it was a foreign thought.

 

She can imagine Joohyun's brain whirring away in the silence, how there's a brief pause before Joohyun's speaking again, sounding surprised.

 

“Sooyoung was joking,” Joohyun’s, combing her hair back. “Is that why you're here? Because you wanted to avoid me?”

 

Yeri's expression shifts, eyes wide and mouth falling open, before turning into a scowl.

 

Wendy's not quite sure why there's venom spilling Yeri's throat then, the tension in her voice strained and muted, but overbearingly present.

 

“...So she just chose not to tell me,” Yeri says, as if it was a thought reserved for herself, Wendy's ears catching the tinge of betrayal in her syllables.

 

“Yerim,” Joohyun starts again, but Yeri's glancing back up at her, eyes narrowing.

 

“You're right. I did. And I still want to avoid you.” Wendy could feel Yeri's sharp words puncture her lungs; she can't imagine what Joohyun must be feeling. “But here we are.”

 

Wendy expects Joohyun to protest, probe a little further, but not the tired sigh that escapes her lips, sounding frustrated like her patience has run thin.

 

She jumps when Joohyun turns back towards her, spotting the way her roommate's jaw is clenched. Wendy's never seen pain painted quite like the one on Joohyun's face, a mixture of volcanic anger and hurt just waiting to erupt.

 

“Goodnight, Yerim.”

 

Joohyun still manages to sound calm, but Wendy recognizes the strain in her voice, just like how Joohyun had tried to avoid her, before:

 

(“I can't keep waking up to you if you're supposed to be waking up to someone else instead.”)

 

Wendy reaches out, timid fingers clutching Joohyun's sleeve just as the taller woman is about to leave them both completely.

 

She wants to take Joohyun's pain away; it can't be healthy to let it build up – it never is, but Joohyun's slipping from her grasp, never once stopping to look at her.

 

Wendy's throat is clogged up in nerves at the lack of acknowledgment, Joohyun’s name never leaving the tip of her tongue, watching her retreat into the living room.

 

“Irene unnie's always been stubborn,” Yeri sounds just as exhausted, like there was no fight left in her, either. “Keeping everything in – she should stop making you worry so much.” She giggles, but it’s weak and broken. “Wouldn't want you to get wrinkles, Wendy unnie.”

 

Wendy can't read her. Yeri makes the act of pretend look like a joke.

 

“Aren't you worried about her too?” Wendy asks.

 

She catches Yeri's wistful smile.

 

Yeri is settling back into Joohyun's bed, bringing the blanket up, like she hadn’t just sort-of argued with Joohyun.

 

“You should go, unnie. It's getting late.”

 

Wendy frowns at Yeri's nonchalance, feeling almost disturbed even, like nothing affects her anymore. But as soon as she sits by her side, just to help adjust the pillows under Yeri's head, Wendy catches the girl’s eyes well up.

 

It's muffled by shaking hands, how the younger girl shields her face behind unsteady fingers; like she's attempting to keep silent so as not to alert Joohyun. But the tremor in her sobs quake like she's tired of hiding it all.

 

“I'm sorry, unnie...” Wendy shakes her head, combing gentle fingers through Yeri's hair. “...I'll be quiet, I promise.”

 

Wendy hushes her worries, clicking her tongue.

 

“Joohyun's not the only one who should stop keeping everything in.” Wendy says, poking the girl’s forehead, a muffled laugh filtering through Yeri's throat.

 

She doesn't know how long it takes for Yeri to finally fall into slumber, but when she does, Wendy can still see the tears that have trailed her cheeks, her skin still dusted in pink. She wipes them off so they don’t stain her any longer.

 

Wendy makes sure strands of copper don't fall over her face, memorizing the way Yeri's bundled in purple – clutching the sheet and pillows like they were her lifeline.

 

When she leaves Joohyun's room, shutting the door behind her, she finds Joohyun sitting on the couch, a hand propping her chin, gazing through the window.

 

Wendy approaches her carefully, settling across from her. It's a little fascinating; how Yeri and Joohyun mirror each other in terms of silence. They have so much to say, yet they can't seem to put them into words when finally confronted with what matters most.

 

They're both equally stubborn, too.

 

“Is Yerim finally asleep?”

 

Wendy stiffens when Joohyun's eyes sweep towards her, seemingly calculating and indifferent.

 

But the warmth in her voice is suffocating.

 

“She is,” Wendy fiddles with the ends of her sleeves on her lap, avoiding her stare. “I'm sorry, for um, offering her to stay. I should've asked for your permission first, especially since it's your room and—”

 

“You did great, Seungwan.” Wendy looks up, “With everything. Thank you.”

 

Joohyun's smile has Wendy's lips stuttering, returning her gaze down to continue twiddling with the ends of her sweater.

 

“Oh. You're welcome.”

 

She doesn't know what to do now. There's still tension in the air, considering that they themselves haven't spoken much lately, either. Wendy has grown accustomed to purple words on paper as a replacement for Joohyun, so now that they're suddenly talking again, Wendy's not sure what to say.

 

Will this even last? This is the most they've ever talked since Joohyun had started avoiding her. Will they go back to doing that?  

 

“Yerim likes to lie a lot,” Wendy's gaze snaps up at attention, “About her feelings. She tries to sound like she doesn't care, but that just means she cares so much that she's afraid of showing it.”

 

Wendy's not sure why Joohyun's telling her this, but maybe she just needs someone to talk to – to listen. Joohyun's always been more comfortable being silent with how she feels.

 

Maybe she could be her outlet.

 

Joohyun's rubbing her temple with tired fingers, a weak sigh escaping .

 

Wendy bites her lip as soon as Joohyun's gaze shifts towards her, exhaustion palpable on her roommate's face, but it makes Wendy feel abnormally warm under it.

 

Her cheeks only flare hotter at Joohyun's small smile.

 

“Mind if I join you tonight?”

 

Wendy’s answer leaves faster than she’d like to admit.

 

“Of course not!” Wendy squeaks, rushing to tone down the excitement already oozing out of her skin. “I-I mean, I don't mind...”

 

Joohyun’s chuckles only makes Wendy want to hide, attempting to bury her ears into the collar of her sweater.

 

Half to play as distraction for her splutter and half out of curiosity, Wendy asks the question that has been bugging her the moment she found Joohyun waiting in the living room.

 

“If you knew Yeri had trouble sleeping,” Wendy watches Joohyun’s brow arch up, “Why didn't you go to her?”

 

Joohyun hums, like she's working out an answer. Wendy catches her comb fingers through her hair, ebony cascading over her shoulders.

 

“Because she would lie to me and say that she was fine.” Joohyun's rubbing a hand behind her neck, as if to massage the kinks in her muscles. “So I stayed here.”

 

Wendy keeps mum, going back to twiddling with her fingers, avoiding Joohyun's steady gaze.

 

But she isn't prepared for Joohyun to speak again, swallowing at the question.

 

“Did you hear what we were talking about?”

 

Her mind immediately goes to Joohyun's confession, words she's never expected to leave the taller woman's lips.

 

(“Seungwan's all I see now.”)

 

Wendy settles her eyes back up at Joohyun, biting her lip.

 

“...A little bit.” When Joohyun looks at her, brows furrowed, Wendy clears . “Like how you should sleep in my room instead of the couch or else Yeri would leave.”

 

That was true; Wendy did hear that, too.

 

When she thinks about it though, Joohyun's already told her how she felt, more blunt than the confession she's heard between a lover's quarrel.

 

(“Apologize for what?”

 

“For kissing you, for wanting you, for touching you, and for thinking about how much I want to do it all over again.”)

 

That was a confession all on its own.

 

Joohyun's laughing.

 

“I guess I don't really have to since she's asleep now, hm?”

 

But Wendy doesn't want that. She wants Joohyun to be with her, stay by her side and play as her anchor like she's always been – right from the start.

 

Wendy stretches the cuff of her sleeve, attempting to hide her jittering fingers, counting numbers away; her head is filling up with memories of good nights they had shared together.

 

She wants them to hold each other again.

 

“The couch isn't all that comfortable, anyway.” Wendy says, her voice meek. “And what if Yeri wakes up too early? She might see you...”

 

Throwing excuses left and right; Wendy wonders if Joohyun knows what she's doing – that underneath all the logic that leaves , Wendy just wants to be with her.

 

Joohyun's hand clasping her wrist has Wendy jolting up.

 

“Come on, then.”

 

It's automatic when Wendy stands, grasping Joohyun's fingers to link between her own, deprived of her roommate's touch.

 

Wendy immediately feels at ease when Joohyun squeezes their hands together, leading her into her room, guiding her to the bed.

 

When Wendy settles between the sheets, she expects Joohyun to snuggle up with her, like they always do, but Joohyun's turning over so her back is all Wendy can see.

 

The air is still crippling, a mixture of awkwardness and familiarity that blankets her lungs, a sort of electric charge that colors the space between them.

 

Wendy wonders if Joohyun can feel it, too.

 

“...Have you been sleeping?”

 

She almost jumps at the sound of Joohyun's voice, as soft as she remembers it to be, when they whisper “Goodnight” before bed.

 

Wendy's fingers can't help but crawl a little closer, seal the distance between them, the tips of her nails combing at the back of Joohyun's sweater.

 

If Joohyun feels her touch, she doesn't show it.

 

“...I've been managing,” Wendy’s fiddling with the loose material, wondering if she should tug it and urge Joohyun to turn and look at her. “The teddy bear helps.”

 

It sounds like a sigh of relief that escapes Joohyun.

 

“That's good,”

 

No, it's not good, Wendy wants to say – to scream. It hasn't been good since Joohyun’s stopped sleeping with her; stopped being there, with her.

 

“It's been hard,” Wendy hopes that a sliver of truth will fix whatever's broken between them, “...I've gotten used to being with you.”

 

There's a pause in the air, her words sinking into the quiet, loud in her ears. Wendy’s heart is bare in the dark, but Joohyun's silence is more terrifying than the confession that lingers above them.

 

Wendy thinks Joohyun has fallen asleep, or maybe has chosen to ignore her instead, but she's perking up at Joohyun's voice returning to fill the room.

 

“...I've gotten used to being with you, too.”

 

It’s nothing Wendy expects, but it’s one her heart sings to hear.

 

Scooting closer, pressing timid palms against Joohyun's back, Wendy attempts to keep warm. Joohyun isn't holding her, but it’s okay. It’s better than not having her here at all.

 

Wendy leans in, mouth pressing against the soft material of Joohyun's sweater, mumbling words she's kept solely in her heart so they could finally spill across Joohyun's back.

 

Wendy wants to let her know.

 

“...I've missed you.”

 

Her ears, her face, her body – they all feel like they're drowning in pools of burning coal, skin flushing over the silence of her room.

 

Wendy's not sure if she wants Joohyun to respond, or if the quiet was her response at all.

 

“I've missed you, too.” Joohyun's strained voice has Wendy curling closer, fingers digging into her sweater, balling into fists.

 

Wendy lets her heart slip again before she could swallow it back down.

 

“...Then why won't you turn around and hold me like you used to?”

 

Maybe she's misread it but she could feel Joohyun stiffen under her fists, her back as rigid as a frozen lamppost – a form of quiet, illuminating, support.

 

“Because I still want you.” Joohyun says, as if to whisper, but it's loud enough to coil around Wendy's lungs, squeeze air out of her lips.

 

She could feel Joohyun still tense under her fingers, but it's not until Wendy presses her ear against Joohyun's back that she really understands.

 

Joohyun's heart is racing – something Wendy knows all too well when it comes to Joohyun herself.

 

To think she makes Joohyun's pulse sprint like this. Wendy's relieved and happy, despite everything.

 

Finding no reason to hide the smile painting , Wendy cuddles closer, burrowing against warmth her teddy bear cannot replicate. As much as she loves having such an effect on the older woman, she hopes her presence could help her relax, too.

 

“...Goodnight, Hyun.” Wendy says, tapping a finger even when there aren't any noises in her head.

 

She recalls how Joohyun had saved her at the café all those months ago, when they barely knew one another, how Joohyun had seemed to calm down from her habitual ticking.

 

As much as she wants to follow Yeri's advice of curling her hands behind Joohyun's ears (it undoubtedly works; she has tried it before), it wouldn't be the same. It was Yeri's to use, to keep, to treasure – it was their secret.

 

Wendy wants to aid Joohyun on her own – to have something memorable only the two of them could share, too.

 

It takes 43 taps against Joohyun's sweater before the older woman's heart rate begins to slow, her back no longer as rigid as it had been. She could hear Joohyun's relaxed sigh, a mere hum that plays a welcomed melody in her ears.

 

“…Goodnight.” Joohyun says, feeling the way her back relaxes against her hands.

 

Without a second thought, Wendy leaves a kiss between Joohyun's shoulder blades, hands providing equal amount of pressure against her back so Joohyun can't discern the spontaneous intimacy. It certainly helps that Joohyun's chosen to wear a thicker sweater, too.

 

They don't say anything else after that, the streaks of moonlight from the windowsill drawing a particular comfort Wendy hasn't had for the past few nights without Joohyun by her side.

 

Even when Joohyun's breathing steadies to a constant rhythm, watching how Joohyun's shoulder slightly rises and falls at a pace that hints at her dreaming, all Wendy wants to do is stay awake so this moment could last a little longer.

 

Wendy nuzzles against Joohyun’s back, careful to not disturb Joohyun's silence, and makes due without Joohyun's arms to hold her.

 

Tonight, Wendy listens to the music she’s missed sleeping to, letting Joohyun’s pulse call the curtains over her eyes.

 

-

 

Seulgi's a horror movie Joy never thought she'd choose to sleep to.

 

Why couldn't she just flick Seulgi off with a press of a button on her remote? She should've never opened the door.

 

Awkward couldn't even begin to describe what Joy is feeling at the moment.

 

She should've closed the door on Seulgi and ignored the fact that it was because she felt bad. Hell, she should be feeling bad for herself, more than anything else.

 

Going so far as to imply that Seulgi could stay over for the night—

 

(“I'll make you laugh to sleep.”)

 

— What the hell was she thinking? What's there to laugh about anyway?

 

Joy almost takes it back, the words spinning on her tongue – almost manages to fix her mistake and kick Seulgi back out of her apartment when the object of her annoying affections speaks like she's utterly grateful.

 

“You're a life saver,”

 

Satan should just kill her now and rip her soul apart; anything has to be better than having to deal with Seulgi loitering about in her apartment, on her couch.

 

She better not put a foot into her bedroom.

 

“Whatever.”

 

Joy waves a lazy hand, but she knows better than to stare at Seulgi for long, dodging the older woman's eyes when she attempts to look her way.

 

There's no way she's drowning in ugly shades of brown on an ugly bear face with stupid bun hair and a stupid—

 

“Hey, I've painted this park before.”

 

Seulgi's shuffling towards a set of Polaroid shots she had taken a while back, reflecting each season through the same landscape.

 

Joy recognizes it to be the park where she had first seen Seulgi busily painting atop a hill – and where Seulgi had never left her mind, since.

 

“Yeah well, my pictures are better.”

 

Seulgi's sticking her tongue out at her, but Joy only waves it off.

 

Slinking the remote back into her palm, Joy slumps against the sofa, flicking through the channels for something that isn't a horror movie. She remembers Seulgi mentioning once before that she gets scared easily, after all.

 

She can't be bothered to deal with the screaming and potential hearing loss.

 

When Seulgi drops into the space beside her, closer than Joy would consider comfortable, she coughs into a hand and attempts to make conversation; anything to distract herself from attempting to shift closer to Seulgi.

 

“...I never imagined you'd ever break up with Wendy.”

 

Not exactly the best topic to start off with, but Seulgi's laughing beside her despite the gravity of her words; Joy can’t tell if it’s genuine.

 

“I didn't either,”

 

Joy looks away when Seulgi curls a stray strand of hair from her face, tidying it behind an ear.

 

No one should look that cute doing something as mundane as that.

 

“I guess you have some backbone after all,”

 

Joy catches Seulgi smile, watches her giggle. She expects the silence that follows after, understanding that there was nothing more to be said.

 

Helping to dissuade the sadness in her eyes, Joy flicks to a channel about food just so it could play as background noise.

 

“What's it like?” Joy’s standing to settle on a chair in the kitchen, Seulgi following suit. “Being stuffed in a bear costume and dealing with loud kids for several hours a day.”

 

Seulgi's laughter is heavenly, soothing like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter evening.

 

Maybe she should make them some, tonight.

 

“Tiring, and painful, especially on the ears.” Seulgi’s resting her chin on her palm, “But it's fun too. The hugs are the best part, though.”

 

Joy hums, pretending to glance at her nails, eyeing the way Seulgi droops to rest her head on her arms atop the table.

 

This girl gets comfortable way too fast.

 

“They always say I give the best hugs,”

 

Joy shrugs.

 

“I wouldn't know,” when she catches Seulgi attempt to stand, Joy is quick to stop her, raising a hand. “And I'm not planning to find out, either.”

 

Seulgi's pouting is deadly and adorable and a devil's work. She should just go make some hot cocoa; at least then she'd have something else to do to busy herself with than dodging curious and cute eyes.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Joy doesn't know why Seulgi calling out to her has her limbs practically on fire, gushing with warmth faster than she could spout a retort. Ignoring that her cheeks are growing ablaze, Joy keeps her back her late night guest, shuffling through her cupboard.

 

“Making hot chocolate,”

 

“Oh, me too!”

 

Hearing Seulgi's chair screech behind her has Joy's heart jumping in her chest, scowling over her shoulder.

 

“Just sit down.”

 

“But I can help you...?”

 

“I don't need it.”

 

She makes sure her voice is sharp, making no room for arguments. Joy's not up for more intimate types of bonding like making hot chocolate together when Seulgi's already in her home, in her kitchen, watching her.

 

With the only sounds of the instructions of a recipe Joy has no interest in ever eating plays through the TV, she busies herself with sifting through the cupboard. Grateful for the new calm settling in her chest instead of a racing pulse, Joy makes work with a settled storm in her head.

 

“I'm sorry,” Seulgi says after Joy turns on the kettle.

 

“...What?”

 

Hm, she's running out of chocolate powder. She'll have to go out and buy another tomorrow. Maybe Yeri would want to accompany her; she'd probably want to talk about where she's chosen to stay for the night, too. Should she call her?

 

“For not knowing how you feel about me.” Seulgi pauses, her words putting a halt on Joy's thoughts. “That you like-like me.”

 

Joy shrugs, relieved her back is facing Seulgi so she can't see the way her teeth grits each syllable.

 

“It wasn't like you were supposed to know, anyway. So don't worry about it.” Her tongue ever her sharpest tool, “Besides, you only found out now. You're excused.”

 

“Still,” Seulgi starts, hearing her guest tap on her bar table. “I know how it feels to not be noticed.”

 

Joy thinks back on her custom-designed green dress she had tossed in the trash. That was a dumb double date; it really shouldn't have happened.

 

The only good thing that came out of it was Yeri and Joohyun finally bumping into each other, face-to-face. Joy was getting tired of hearing Yeri whine about Joohyun; even if she never explicitly did.

 

Longing sighs during the day and whimpering cries during the night were more than enough compared to verbal words, anyway.

 

“It's fine,” Joy watches the kettle's steam draw lines into the air. “That's normal.”

 

“But it shouldn't be,”

 

“As nice as that sounds,” Joy turns to look at her, “Let's be honest. We don't keep track of things we don't care about.”

 

Seulgi jolts up in her seat, her expression a mixture of shock and confusion.

 

“B-But I do care about you—!”

 

“No.” Seulgi’s lips are curling into a frown, sketches of words waiting to be said, but Joy's quicker. “No, you don't. And frankly, that's good. Even more reason to get over you.”

 

“Joy…”

 

She doesn’t want to hear it; they’re all just little white lies that do poorly in covering the obvious truth. Besides, having Seulgi not care about her will only make moving on easier.

 

“Listen,” Joy crosses her arms, curling a hair behind her ear. “No offense, but I’m not the type to wait.” 

 

Seulgi's pursing her lips at her but Joy ignores it, twisting back around so she can't look at the way Seulgi stares at her – all sad like her feelings were actually hurt. How hilarious. What a pretty lie.

 

Joy glares at the kettle. The water should be boiling hot by now.

 

“And when I get over you, we could laugh about it together. Wouldn’t that be great?”

 

Seulgi’s silence is all Joy needs to hear.

 

She clenches her eyes shut at the sound of a chair screeching against the floor – Seulgi’s moving. Leaning heavy hands against her countertop, refusing to look back, Joy spits out a command that makes no room for objections.

 

“So just sit down, shut up, and wait for your hot chocolate.”

 

Joy can’t wait for the evening to be over.

 

-

 

When Joy calls it a night and the lights go out, she hears Seulgi's voice call out to her, meek and nervous.

 

“Hey, um, do you happen to have a nightlight? I can't really sleep in the dark...”

 

Joy is rolling her eyes, even when she knows Seulgi can't see her from the couch and she's already more than half-way through closing her bedroom door.

 

She's lent the older girl a blanket and a pillow – and a place to stay; there's nothing more for her to give. Besides, she's already grown out of sleeping with the lights on. She wouldn't have something as childish as a nightlight in her home.

 

“No,” Joy just can't wait to go to bed, “Now sleep.”

 

She doesn't wait for Seulgi to protest – if there would be any at all, the door shutting to a click behind her.

 

Snuggling under the covers, Joy hopes she could sleep the tension in her muscles away. This'll be the first – and last, time that Seulgi will ever stay. Her brain feels like it'll collapse from overworking so much. The same for her annoying heart.

 

But even when she keeps her eyes shut to quell the rampage in her chest, her ears are still ringing with the reminder that Seulgi is out there: alone, in the dark, and possibly too terrified, to fall asleep.

 

But what kind of adult is still scared of the dark?!

 

Joy's squishing her pillow against her ears (maybe it'll help silence the stupid concerns in her head), flipping over to bury her face into the softness of fluff she doesn’t want to leave behind.

 

Maybe counting sheep will do the trick.

 

One,

 

Two,

 

Three.

 

...She was supposed to get Seulgi laughing to sleep.

 

Damn it.

 

Without another stupid thought to convince her to move, Joy is wrenching the covers off her, grumbling curses as she motions to stand, twisting the knob open and entering back into the living room.

 

Joy flicks the lights on, a string of complaints ready to leave her tongue when stays shut and the frustration curled along her jaw loosens to gape.

 

Seulgi's curled up into a ball on the sofa, and even though she's wrapped tight under the protection of her green blanket, she's singing to a song Joy doesn't recognize, as if to lull herself to sleep.

 

“If you just realize...”

 

Joy pretends she doesn't feel the pinch in her stomach, memorizing the way Seulgi's eyes have yet to open. They’re sealed shut, like she's afraid.

 

Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes with her stupid bun hair and her stupid bear face.

 

Joy wonders if she'll ever be not weak to Seulgi's presence.

 

“I forgot that I promised you something,”

 

She's watching the way Seulgi's eyes snap open, her entire body jolting up from the couch. Joy spots how the blanket partially slides over Seulgi's shoulder at the motion, hanging off her elbow.

 

“Joy…?”

 

“Who else?” She's scoffing, though she catches how Seulgi's gaze remains steady on her.

 

“Why are you still up?”

 

“Because I'm supposed to make you laugh to sleep, remember?” Joy snorts at Seulgi's widening eyes, “I promised.”

 

She didn't. Not really.

 

But it must've been, in a way, when her heart wouldn't stop pounding at her to get up and walk back to Seulgi because it never happened.

 

“Oh, you don't have to! Really.”

 

Seulgi's smile only makes her chest throb more – which is ridiculous. She's here so she could get Seulgi to sleep and make the odd guilt in her blood to stop pressuring her limbs; not have her heart run harder than it already is.

 

Joy scowls. “Just move over.”

 

Seulgi's obedient despite her command, and as much as Joy tries to ignore the genuine delight swirling in Seulgi's eyes, as if she's happy for not being alone, Joy can't stop staring.

 

“Is there something on my face?”

 

Seulgi's patting hands on her cheeks, before her fingers are tracing over her lips, as if redefining pink plump flesh.

 

Joy grips her wrist. Seulgi has absolutely no idea what she's doing to her – she's not supposed to be tracing when she's watching.

 

“Yes. Your face. Now stop that.”

 

She's snappy and annoyed and tired – and her heart just won't shut up. It's loud and barbaric and even a bit painful; her chest is aching and Joy just wants to close her eyes and rest. She never should've let Seulgi stay.

 

“Joy?” She's jerking up at the touch on her arm, the warmth tingling into her skin. “Thanks, but you really don't have to. I'll see you in the morning, okay?”

 

Joy huffs.

 

“You don't get it. It's not okay. I have to do this—” she's swallowing hard, ease the sandpaper clogging . “How else am I supposed to sleep if my head won't stop thinking about you being scared in the dark and I didn't do anything about it?”

 

Seulgi's gaping at her and as much as Joy wants to slam that mouth shut and get her to stop staring, Joy's too busy trying not to let slip more flurries of words that might carry too much.

 

She's settling next to Seulgi on the couch, rubbing her palms against her knees and avoiding the older girl's gaze just so her tongue won't go running again.

 

“So,” Joy nudges Seulgi's leg, relieved that it gets her to stop staring. “What the hell do you find funny? I'll humor you with some improv.”

 

She's grateful that Seulgi doesn't comment on anything, especially when her heart has already peeked out for Seulgi to see. 

 

“...Bears.”

 

Joy blinks, watching the way Seulgi is scratching her cheek, looking sheepish.

 

She finds herself laughing after, shaking her head and bumping Seulgi again, feeling a smile curl along her lips.

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

When Seulgi only shrugs, a shy grin plastering her face, Joy starts to work her magic; a silly string of jokes she manages to remember out of the entire mold of lame humor that Yeri made her sit through the first night she moved in with her.

 

As she hears Seulgi's laughter, Joy takes note of how much her heart has gone silent just so it could listen.

 

-

 

Irene doesn't expect a lot of things in life.

 

She doesn't expect to fall in love with someone several years younger, with a cruel habit of drinking caffeine – something she's learned to tolerate (but only because Yerim would come after; that sweet cherry red lipstick). But when it happens, Irene isn't prepared, and neither were her taste buds.

 

She's learned love through scents of the dreaded coffee, to the aisles of lipstick products she'd fall victim to as the younger girl's canvas. 

 

Irene doesn't expect their love to not last either, swept away in clacking steps towards a door and a back that only grew smaller before the world shuts to a close, the lock clicking after her.

 

She was sure that was it; that all the love she could give had left with Yerim, every little ounce swept up along with her heart. So Irene had tried to look for her again, tried to taste her in every coffee she'd drink, in every lipstick she made Irene wear.

 

But when she realized that Yerim was taking each second of time that ticked by, occupied her thoughts, her dreams, the gears in her limbs – Irene knew she needed it to end. Smoking helped, if only for a moment.

 

Reports kept her occupied; it helped shift phantom hands that trailed along her skin in every dream for stressed limbs and eye bags instead. Sleep only ever led to movie reels of Yerim, but none of them could ever compare to a reality she no longer had.

 

So Irene preferred to work, go to school, visit Sooyoung once in a while for a break in between, before going through them all over again.

 

And then she met Seungwan.

 

“Good morning,”

 

Irene blinks, thoughts dissipating behind her eyes, finally realizing that she had been staring at Seungwan the entire time.

 

She must've turned in her sleep, because now she's lying on her back, but she's facing timid eyes and a nervous smile and Irene's suddenly feeling her heart race again.

 

Seungwan's taking all the air from her lungs.

 

“...Good morning,”

 

There's a low thrum in Irene's voice, rasp and breathy. It's difficult to fill her chest back with oxygen when Seungwan's still looking at her with a tiny smile on her lips and how the locks of auburn hair drape over her face and—

 

Irene curls her fingers into fists, keeping them rigid beside her so that she won't be reaching out to brush them away.

 

Irene spots streaks of sunlight breaking through between the blinds of Seungwan's windowsill, painting lines over the arches of Seungwan's brows to the slope of her nose.

 

As soon as her gaze lowers to watch how the sun polishes the sculpted contours of Seungwan's lips, Irene has to look away, her heart drumming louder in her ears.

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

She needs to leave. She might do something again—

 

“Are you needed somewhere right now?” Irene's barely sitting up when Seungwan's trapping her wrist, “...Are you going to avoid me again?”

 

Seungwan’s grip is meek, like a loose knot waiting to come untied. Irene's gritting her teeth, hesitation playing with her limbs; Seungwan's pleading through her eyes and she has always been weak under Seungwan's gaze.

 

“…Yes,” Irene's glancing down at their skins latched together, “You’re with Seulgi.”

 

Seungwan’s fingers are sliding from Irene’s wrist to settle on her knuckles, brushing heat into Irene’s bones. She watches Seungwan shake her head.

 

“I was,”

 

Irene’s eyes flicks back up to meet Seungwan’s, scrutinizing how her smile paints sadness along her lips, her cheek pressing into her blue pillow.

 

Seungwan’s drawing invisible circles on her hand.

 

“She broke up with me.”

 

Irene's not sure if she could ask, swelling with curiosity. Seulgi looked too much in love with Seungwan to let her go. She would know – she's seen it.

 

Seungwan's bowing her head.

 

“Remember how I told you my name? That people don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’ so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead?”

 

Irene nods, keeping mute, furrowing her brows at the wry laughter that leaves Seungwan’s throat. She doesn’t move away when Seungwan shifts closer to her, lying back down when she feels Seungwan tug her sleeve.

 

Seungwan’s curling against her arm, her fingers moving to fill the spaces between Irene’s, their hands tying together. Irene tries not to hold her breath when Seungwan mumbles against her shoulder, her pounding heart attempting to drown out the words in her ears.

 

It doesn’t help when she could feel Seungwan’s lips paint words into her sweater.

 

“…I’m not ‘Wendy’.”

 

Only question marks color her mind, confusion outlining each of them. Irene watches the way Seungwan purses her lips, like she’s fumbling for the right explanation.

 

She waits for Seungwan to speak again, unsure of whether she should curl their hands tighter together or not. Irene lets them lay limp.

 

When Seungwan doesn’t say anything else, Irene asks a question that continues to bounce in her head.

 

“Do you want to be?”

 

Seungwan's looking at her like she's never considered it; surprise colors her eyes.

 

“...Shouldn't I?”

 

Silence filters through like a smoke of fog, wrapping them in. Irene has no answer to that.

 

Seungwan's bowing her head, her fringe a curtain against Irene's searching eyes.

 

“But what if I like myself like this?” She's reaching out, her palm resting against Irene's chest. “All these feelings I have – the ones I've learned on my own...” Irene could feel her finger begin to tap numbers against her collarbone. “What if I'm happy the way I am now? Would that be wrong?”

 

Irene's never considered Seungwan to be struggling through some sort of identity crisis; all she's ever known about were the noises Seungwan hates hearing in her head.

 

Were 'Wendy' and 'Seungwan' two completely different people? Were they not just two different names to go by?

 

“...I'm being weird, aren't I?”

 

Irene's blinking her confusion off, realizing how Seungwan's still tapping noises away, her finger a gentle reminder against her skin.

 

She watches how Seungwan's hair drapes over her cheek, hiding away eyes that have gotten used to fear being its only color. Irene wants to replace it – have it disappear forever.

 

“No,” Irene’s curling auburn strands behind Seungwan's ear; makes sure her eyes don't hide anymore. “You're being honest.”

 

She sees fear gradually wash away over Seungwan, how it doesn’t decorate the skin between her brows in crinkles or the downward curl along the corners of .

 

“...Thank you,” relief leaves Seungwan's lips, like the chains have come undone around , slipping away from a knot too tight.

 

“What for?”

 

Irene watches her fidget, how Seungwan's fingers clutch at her sweater.

 

There's this glowing smile on Seungwan's lips. It's ethereal, tugging at Irene's chest, pulling her in like a fire against the cold. She wants to feel the heat, to take Seungwan in and taste that happiness written along —

 

“...For choosing to call me Seungwan.” 

 

— so Irene does.

 

She catches that soft smile on Seungwan's lips, attempt to engrave it onto her own mouth in hopes that it'll make its mark in her heart – and to have it stay there.

 

Seungwan's gasp spills against her, and it makes Irene chuckle, capturing her surprise and memorizing the way Seungwan's gripping tighter onto her sweater.

 

Irene is breathless at the touch of her name on Seungwan's lips.

 

“...Joohyun?”

 

She tastes like raspberry.

 

Irene wants to kiss her again.

 

But before she could lean in, seal those lips again, Yerim invades her mind’s eye, how she’s still in her apartment, in her room, just several meters away behind beige walls she's helped Seungwan paint. Irene didn't think it could ever happen again - to have Yerim in her home.

 

But things have changed.

 

Temptation of tasting Seungwan again leaves her like burnt paper crumbling in her hands; she feels like she's betrayed Yerim, somehow. And Seulgi.

 

“Come on, let's go make breakfast.”

 

Irene doesn't linger any longer in the space she's so used to occupying every night, when she never had to worry about wanting to take Seungwan's lips, feet padding across the floor before Seungwan could probe for more.

 

-

 

It was inevitable that she would run out of jokes that had to do with bears.

 

After all had been said and the exhaustion crept in over her calm heart, Joy had been adamant when she told Seulgi to sleep on the bed instead.

 

Sometime during their short session of shared giggles over poor humor, Joy thought it was fine to have Seulgi sleep where it was most comfortable.

 

Seulgi had long argued with her that it was fine though – that she could sleep on the couch because she was the guest, which Joy snorted at, because that was precisely the point to lend the bed.

 

Joy knew Seulgi was stubborn – but not that stubborn, that in the end, none of them slept on the bed, which was dumb, now that she thought about it. They had tired themselves out from arguing over who should sleep on the couch that they both refused to leave it.

 

So it was no surprise the next morning that Joy had woken up with a stiff neck and an aching back.

 

Groaning under a strike of sunlight blaring against her eyes, Joy lifts a hand to shield herself, getting up slowly from the sofa.

 

Stretching had never felt this good in the morning, though Joy wouldn't dare to have a repeat of it. She should've just let Seulgi crash on the couch because the bed is so much more comfortable. Maybe next time when Seulgi pulls off another one of these stupid visits.

 

...Which she should decline in the first place.

 

Joy groans again when her neck cracks a kink out of her bones, sighing at the loose motion of her head. Much better.

 

She begins stretching her arms, straightening out her back, when her eyes shift to see Seulgi hunched over on the couch. They had both occupied the seat so it was no wonder that Seulgi was still sitting up, her head lolled forward, hair curtaining her face.

 

She's going to wake up with a horrible pain in her back, no doubt.

 

Joy scoffs, turning away. Seulgi deserves it anyway, barging into her apartment in the middle of the night – and without a proper invite. Speaking of which, she'll have to scold Joohyun about it later.

 

But her feet carries her to the other end of the sofa, hands grasping the fallen blanket and pillow before shuffling back towards Seulgi, like her body has all the controls.

 

Joy feels like she's watching behind a screen, her voice gone from her lips, as she shifts Seulgi's body, letting her sprawl out carefully along the length of the couch.

 

She wants to yell at herself for her overbearing kindness, but her limbs won't listen to her, hands perching under Seulgi's head so she could lift it, sliding a pillow underneath. It's gagging almost, when she finds herself covering Seulgi with the blanket, even more so when she sees the way Seulgi responds by snuggling deeper into them.

 

Joy feels her heart stutter at the instinctive smile that colors Seulgi's lips.

 

Damn it.

 

Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes.

 

Grumbling, Joy stands to make breakfast – for herself. She has spoiled Seulgi enough already; time to reward herself for everything she's been through – and still going through, Joy thinks, glancing back at a slumbering Seulgi.

 

She scoffs at the picture.

 

Maybe making extra for one more person won't be so bad. It'll be like preparing breakfast for Yeri.

 

Joy doesn't expect to hear Seulgi’s voice already, her steps halting at the sound.

 

“...Good morning to you too, Joy.”

 

Joy's brain malfunctions, as if short-circuiting. Was Seulgi awake the entire time? Did she witness the entire thing?

 

She's hesitant when she turns, finding Seulgi grinning at her, still looking sleepy but even more so beautiful than she already was.

 

How was that even possible?

 

Seulgi's giggling, attempting to muffle it behind the blasted blanket Joy had given her, and Joy swears her heart would give out at any moment.

 

“You look like a fish, with your mouth like that.” Seulgi says, a smile curling her lips.

 

Joy swallows, nerves pooling over her tongue like saliva. Seulgi's dangerous to her health: mentally, physically, and emotionally.

 

Crap.

 

If she had known Seulgi would take her breath away even in the morning with bed hair and a sloppy smile with crinkled clothes she had lent the older woman, Joy would've been more strict about keeping her out of her home.

 

Joy frowns. “You should still be sleeping.”

 

Seulgi's laughter is both medicine and poison in her ears.

 

“But I felt you move me,” she’s grinning at her, looking a little smug. “And I was too surprised that you were being nice to me, so I couldn't just go back to sleep.”

 

Joy only grumbles, turning away, going for the cabinets because screw it, she's not going to bother wasting anymore brain cells thinking about Seulgi when she's hungry and breakfast needs to happen.

 

Seulgi's voice filters into her ears again.

 

“You're weird, you know.”

 

Joy snorts. “You only figured that out now?”

 

“But cute, too.”

 

Joy pretends she doesn't feel the flush of emotion color her cheeks. She clicks her tongue.

 

“Gee, that's disappointing. I was going more for badass and intimidating.”

 

Seulgi's giggles clutch at Joy's heart, a vice grip that takes her breath away. How cruel.

 

“You are,” Joy hears shuffling, fear latching at the thought of Seulgi moving closer. “It's just nice to know you're not only those, too.”

 

Joy has no idea where Seulgi is going with this. Is she making conversation?

 

“Whatever.”

 

She’s sifting through her cabinets and cupboards, fixated on distracting herself with making food. An empty stomach won't help her think properly, and Joy’s all too aware that she needs to be making proper choices only.

 

“Let me help,”

 

Traces of orange fill up her lungs, an elbow bumping against hers, the heat seeping through her sweater. Joy doesn't have to turn to know that Seulgi's right next to her, space be damned.

 

Joy scoffs, but she feels a smile painting her lips at the sight of Seulgi's hair in disarray; there are strands standing up and sideways.

 

“How about you clean yourself up, first?”

 

“But I didn't bring a toothbrush...”

 

Joy rolls her eyes, walking towards the fridge and yanking out a carton of eggs.

 

“Just rinse your mouth with water,” she goes back to the countertop, “I'll give you gum to chew on, after.”

 

Seulgi's nodding. The grin on her face is hard to miss.

 

“Okay,” Joy feels Seulgi squeeze her arm, “You're spoiling me, you know.”

 

Oh she knows. She also knows she's being teased just as much as she's being thanked.

 

Joy scowls, nudging Seulgi's hold off. Her arm is tingling from the heat and it's only a matter of time before it starts to burn.

 

“Fix your hair, too. It looks like a bird's nest.”

 

Seulgi's laughing, her hands attempting to press down on her scalp. Joy watches how she misses a few strands, rolling her eyes at the mess.

 

She reaches out to pat some down, sneering when Seulgi smiles at her like she's gotten her way.

 

“…How did you end up liking me?”

 

Joy freezes as soon as the question loops into her ears, racking her skull, her hand going rigid on Seulgi's head.

 

She can't say it's been a while – that it's been a little over two years, before she even met Joohyun. To think her silly crush spans longer than her friendship with Joohyun – how absurd.

 

“I've been trying to figure that out myself.”

 

Maybe it's because of her stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid bear face with her stupid bun hair.

 

Seulgi's reaching up, grasping her hand, the warmth spreading into Joy's bones that her fingers can't help but twitch at her touch. But she doesn't pull away, letting Seulgi bring it down, cradle it between her hands.

 

“When you said 'can I be your tomorrow, just for today'...” Joy’s pulse skyrockets, blood ripping through her ears. “...what did you mean by that?”

 

Damn it.

 

Those were words Joy still regrets saying, a moment of a loose tongue and a mind that preferred to be stuck in the illusion of being in a date with Seulgi.

 

Joy snorts, wrenching her hand free from Seulgi's grip, twisting away to crack eggs onto the pan. She’s already come out with the truth. There’s no point in holding back.

 

“The obvious. I'm attracted to you. A lot – maybe even too much. So I end up saying things I don't mean and doing things I'd rather not do, like letting you into my apartment.” Joy's gaze whizzes to meet Seulgi's, punctuating each word with a cracked egg against the pan. “It's because I like you that much. That's all there is to it.”

 

Joy turns away to grab her spatula, letting the clatter of her drawers and spoons and forks dissuade the quiet.

 

“Is that why you've been running away from me? Because you like me?”

 

Joy rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue.

 

“Obviously.”

 

Seulgi's silence is nerve racking. Joy would appreciate her mute lips more if it had nothing to do with her heart being so open like this, her confession still crackling in the air like sparked dynamite.

 

“Thank you,” Seulgi’s bumping Joy's elbow with her own.

 

The action surprises her, pausing to glance back at the shorter woman, confusion lining the frown on her lips.

 

“For what?”

 

Seulgi's hands are behind her back, her body swaying on the balls of her feet, rocking herself side-to-side. She's not meeting her gaze.

 

“For letting me stay and for taking care of me,”

 

Joy crinkles her nose, whirling away to flip the scrambled eggs still being fried.

 

“You know it's only because I'm being biased, right? You are the person I like, after all.”

 

When she glances back at her, Seulgi has this smile: small, quiet, and understanding.

 

“Thank you for liking me, too.”

 

Joy scoffs, waving a hand.

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

It goes silent again. Seulgi remains beside her, not invasive, but not quite present, either. Like she's observing her from lenses too far to be touched. Is something bothering her?

 

Seulgi's scuffling her feet, kicking at air as she speaks.

 

“…Would it help you? If I don't bother you anymore?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Hm. Maybe she should crack some more eggs. Seulgi's quite the eater, like herself. Should she throw in tomatoes and onions, too?

 

“...You won't have to run as long as I'm not around, right?”

 

Joy stops, a frown drawing deeper lines along the corners of .

 

What the hell is she talking about?

 

“I won't call you, or text you, and if we happen to bump into each other at the mall or on the streets, I'll make sure to leave right away, okay?”

 

Seulgi's hands are animated; so is her rambling mouth and darting eyes. She's fidgeting from head to toe and Joy can't fathom why she's bothering to go on about things she obviously doesn't mean.

 

Seulgi sounds a lot like herself, too.

 

Joy scowls, halting Seulgi's silly excuses, raking a hand through her hair.

 

“Uh, no. That's not okay.”

 

There's a cutting edge to her voice, how the words come out scathing past her lips, bruising .

 

Seulgi shifts back as if flinching, a speck of a grimace tainting her face. Joy snorts at her expression.

 

They're both hopeless.

 

“You don't get to do that,” Joy's scrunching her nose, “you don't get to just waltz in and shove my feelings right up my face just so you could leave me behind with them still all over the place.”

 

Seulgi's mouth begins to curve, forming syllables that leave her tongue and blazes into Joy's ears like drops of charcoal.

 

“But—”

 

Her hand lifts as fast as Seulgi attempts to say more, sealing the older woman's words with a flick of her wrist, a palm to her face.

 

“So like I said: no, that's not okay.” Joy's legs can't stay still, shifting her weight. “I want you to call me and text me and whenever we bump into each other, to stick around for more than a simple 'Hi' or 'Goodbye'.”

 

God, she's breaking everything she stands for.

 

It's ridiculous and unlike her and Joy has sworn that she's better than this – better than the idiots who keep going back and drowning in the obvious trap that things will always be one-sided, that she can dodge the blatant disregard for her own well-being but—

 

Seulgi's stunned to a silence, evident by her wide eyes and open mouth, hanging as if the latch has broken.

 

“Joy...?”

 

— but there's this tiny hope flickering in her head that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for more.

 

She's no different than any other idiot.

 

Joy snorts at the look, crossing her arms, holding herself so that maybe she could keep from shaking more than she already is. God, she's fidgeting so much. How annoying.

 

“Don't overthink it. You'll get wrinkles.”

 

“Joy...”

 

“But you really need to rinse your mouth so I can give you gum. Your breath stinks. Don't forget to fix your bird's nest, too.” Joy’s pushing Seulgi towards the bathroom.

 

But Seulgi doesn't look like she's listening. There seems to be words still stuck behind , trembling to come out. Joy spots it as easily as the nerves she sees still holding Seulgi's fingers captive, the jitters too obvious to ignore.

 

She calls her out on it.

 

“What?” Joy barely holds back a snarl when her feelings are still pulling her in, as if to drown. She has already said too much. “What's with that look?”

 

Seulgi's voice comes out shaky. Breathless, even.

 

“...I wish I was in love with you.”

 

It's not what Joy expects. Of course not. The mere thought of love and Seulgi and her, all in one sentence is a sort of silly notion Joy couldn't find herself to entertain. Because it's not true – and it won't be. 

 

But maybe—

 

Joy blinks to stave off the surprise her limbs have surrendered to, inhaling sharper than she intends to, her chest filling up with false indifference and a whole lot of disappointment at the truth.

 

She portrays the sense of calm she never leaves without, lips moving as quickly as her mind processes the words.

 

“But you're not.”

 

Joy eyes Seulgi's expression, the way her lips have drawn a tight line. She watches her nod slowly, as if the action would help sink the fact into her brain better.

 

“Yeah...” Seulgi's scratching her elbow, shuffling her feet. “...Yeah, I'm not.”

 

Joy waves off the air that's quickly growing tense, tightening with each second that passes by and it's only silence that caves in.

 

“You wouldn't want to be, anyway. Because if you were, I'd probably be all over you.” She's not sure why she's trying to make Seulgi feel better about hurting her – about not returning the feelings that continues to haunt her, “And you'd get sick of me fast.” Joy breaks out a laugh, “So I guess you lucked out.”

 

Seulgi has this smile that looks equally amused and broken, as if she's unsure of what to feel and Joy dares not to think too much on it – because there's nothing to see.

 

“...Yeah,”

 

Joy pretends not to hear how Seulgi seems to be trying to convince herself that it's true.

 

Clearing , Joy nudges Seulgi towards the direction of her bathroom.

 

“Now go rinse your mouth. I don't want to be smelling your bad breath any longer than necessary.”

 

When Seulgi laughs, genuine and loud and void of any trembling doubt that had enveloped her earlier, Joy manages to smile, too.

 

She'll just have to deal with Seulgi's presence for a little longer.

 

She can do this.

 

“Hey, Joy?”

 

“What is it now?”

 

“For the record,” Seulgi's smiling, but it's not as sad as the ones before. “I don't think I'd ever get sick of someone who loves me.”

 

-

 

Like every morning, Yeri wakes up from dreaming about Joohyun.

 

It's routine of her to lay in bed a little longer, let the slumber fog of Joohyun's fingers caress her skin, crawl memory touches along her mind, until they all disappear.

 

Tender lavender and soft vanilla would follow after, leaving her senses, fading from her tongue, like Joohyun was never there. And usually that was the case; Joohyun would no longer welcome her with a good morning kiss; Yeri had grown accustomed to that.

 

But Yeri still smells vanilla and lavender even after Joohyun's dream touches have gone, her body still wrapped up in between the sheets that are too purple to be her own.

 

Yeri doesn't want to leave.

 

It's warm, comforting, protective; a constant she's missed having in a world where change is synonymous to living.

 

She snuggles her nose deeper into the soft material of a purple pillow, inhaling a scent she's associated with happiness; a feeling she's never really had anymore.

 

The clock on the nightstand is bright beside her – 7:48 AM.

 

It's still early; she could escape and not have to deal with the consequences of seeing Joohyun and Wendy be comfortable together.

 

She should leave.

 

Making up her mind, hoping this spontaneous energy of just getting the hell out lasts long enough for her to actually leave, Yeri slithers out of the clothes Wendy had lent her. To think she had worn these often before – Yeri didn't think it was possible to wear them again.

 

Hastily folding them up, fixing the creases on the bed and reordering the pillows and blankets, Yeri casts one last glance around the room. She lets the images of Joohyun's study table and stacks of notebooks sink into her mind.

 

She remembers the times she's watched Joohyun just study; how her brows would crinkle, her lips curved into a frown. It was one of the images she'd often have of Joohyun whenever she'd dream; a strong contender against whispers of sweet kisses and hot skin on skin that would always make her wake up with a want for more.

 

Yeri turns away, squeezing the doorknob tight and hoping this would be the last time she'll have to leave Joohyun behind. Again.

 

Hearing the door creak open, Yeri inches forward, spotting the way the windows filter streams of sunlight in lines across the floor. They puddle along the couch and television, lines of brightness streaking in the dark; a clear sign that it was still very much early in the morning.

 

Yeri sees how the door is still closed to Wendy's room, the couch empty. Joohyun really listened to her (even if it was an empty threat).

 

But in the back of her mind, Yeri had hoped Joohyun was still stubborn enough not to.

 

She pretends not to feel jealousy bubble in the pit of her stomach, twisting away to head towards the door, slipping her boots on, grabbing her bag of clothes she had bought last night.

 

Yeri doesn't realize she's holding her breath until she's turning the lock, wrenching the door open, the hallway a bland comparison to the comfy warmth of their apartment.

 

Her head is telling her to move – to leave everything behind, just like before. It's easy. Then close the door so she could hear it lock Joohyun in again along with every mistake she's made.

 

So why can't she do it?

 

Yeri's gritting her teeth, clenching her fists, feeling the way her skin goes white against the doorknob; her legs won't move.

 

She's already screaming in her head to get out – to run, to leave, and never come back. It should be easy.

 

Maybe her feet doesn't want to move just yet because Wendy had asked her to stay for breakfast. Maybe her body had been wired to make exceptions for food – to feel guilty for a welcoming host.

 

She should stay to show her appreciation; to show that she was grateful to Wendy for everything.

 

Yet Yeri feels it's much more than that – her excuses were never all that convincing.

 

Yeri settles her bag down, pushing the door to a close, placing the lock back in. Her boots slide off easier than ever, stepping backwards as if to make distance between the exit and herself.

 

She should be leaving. It would be the right thing to do.

 

But her feet takes her back into a room she's learned to love as much as she loves Joohyun herself, shutting the door behind her.

 

Yeri suddenly finds herself crawling under the blankets, pulling the clothes she had borrowed into her arms, hugging them close. It's automatic to snuggle deeper beneath the covers, curling her legs so she'd be entangled in vanilla and lavender all over again.

 

Her mind is rampant with logic – to escape unnoticed while she still has a chance, but her heart finds calm under the warmth; her nose burrowing deeper into the pillow.

 

She can't bring herself to leave Joohyun again.

 

Maybe making them kick her out will do the trick. But for now, in the comfort of a home Joohyun shares with someone else who will never be her, Yeri lets herself drown in everything Joohyun – while she still can.

 

But it doesn't last long, of course, because Yeri hears a door screech open and footsteps begin to pace the apartment's wooden floors.

 

She squeezes her eyes shut, huddling deeper into the safety of Joohyun's blanket, and hopes she could fake sleep for a little longer. She doesn't want to face the world just yet; she loves it here.

 

Her breath pauses in when another door creaks open, too close to not be the entrance to Joohyun's room, and prays it's not obvious that she doesn't want to leave.

 

The steps that patter the floor are soft and careful. Yeri kind of hopes it'd be Wendy because she'd be the easier one to lie to, but when the bed dips beside her and a hand is brushing her hair from her face, Yeri's heart both soars and falls.

 

Vanilla and lavender could never be as potent as when they're worn on her.

 

Of course it'd be Joohyun.

 

Her world always manages to find her. Yeri still remembers the times she had accidentally left Joohyun in the lipstick aisle because she wanted to find some eye shadow for her.

 

“Don't you think you're getting a little too excited about this?”

 

Yeri's ears perk up at Joohyun's voice behind her, feeling the older woman settle her chin on her shoulder. Yeri tries not to shiver from Joohyun's lips caressing her ear, her breath tickling the little hairs on Yeri's skin to a stand.

 

It doesn't help when Joohyun's arms circle under her elbows, wrapping themselves around Yeri's waist; finding Joohyun's hands interlocked comfortably on her tummy.

 

“Don't you think you're getting a little too clingy like this, unnie?” Yeri quips, her question not much of a complaint when she lets her fingers rest on Joohyun's, leaning back into her warmth.

 

Joohyun's nuzzling her neck, feeling her smile scar her skin, tickling her. It makes Yeri giggle at the touch.

 

“Because you left me behind. What if I get lost again?”

 

Her whining has Yeri laughing, reaching up with her free hand to pat Joohyun's cheek. Affection builds up in her chest that Yeri can't help but coo. Joohyun's just so cute.

 

“Unnie, the lipstick aisle is literally a few steps away.” Yeri nods her head towards its direction, right beside all the eye shadow. “You can't get lost. Besides, aren't you the one who's older than me? You don't need my supervision.”

 

Joohyun's pouting into her skin, another whine leaving her lips, tickling Yeri again. She shivers this time, when Joohyun's syllables mark words on her neck.

 

“You can't just drag me out to buy makeup for me and then leave me to fend for myself...”

 

Yeri's sighing, but the smile on her lips is wide and happy; she loves Joohyun like this – so fond of physical contact.

 

She ignores the eyes that look their way, mutely judging through narrowed brows and blatant frowns. Yeri can't bring herself to care about what they think when she's with Joohyun; the older woman's indifference to society's blueprint scrutiny is empowering. Joohyun gives her a strength Yeri didn't think could ever exist in her.

 

“Okay okay,” Yeri’s patting the woman's head. “Geez, you're such a kid.”

 

Joohyun laughs then, the irony not lost on them at all. Yeri remembers how they waddled around the rest of the shop, too happy to be stuck together to even consider letting each other go.

 

They went to the amusement park afterwards too, squealing during all the rides and screaming in haunted houses – Yeri didn't think they would ever end.

 

But here they are.

 

“You always did like running your hand through my hair, unnie.”

 

Yeri doesn't want to start crying at all the memories Joohyun has begun to stir inside of her; the familiarity of Joohyun's touch is making her ache more than she already is.

 

Joohyun's hand doesn't stop though, continuing to comb through her scalp even after Yeri has called her out on it, almost as if it were wired into her bones. Yeri would be surprised if it were true; it's been a year and... no, she doesn't want to be specific even in her own head.

 

“I thought you would have left already,” Joohyun says, sounding as lost as Yeri feels.

 

Lying was Yeri's favorite pill to swallow.

 

It would be smooth and small, seamlessly sliding through . Her stomach had grown accustomed to the knot that would build up from it, so it was never a surprise to have more pile past her lips and curl into someone else's ears.

 

But all that comes out is more of the truth Yeri thought to be long gone from . Maybe she has finally run out of lies to tell.

 

“I thought so, too.”

 

If only her feet wasn't so frozen the moment she opened the door.

 

“Why didn't you?”

 

Yeri's eyes open slowly, blinking up at Joohyun who looks as amazing as always; maybe she should've kept them shut because her breath is now lodged in .

 

She drops her gaze to stare at a pile of broken picture frames in a small trash bin. It looks odd, considering Joohyun already has a trash bin filled with crumpled papers near her study desk. 

 

“I realized I didn't want to leave.” Yeri mutters against the clothes she had borrowed, “I left you before, so it's not like I'm inexperienced. I wonder where my courage went.”

 

Yeri wonders if those broken picture frames had carried images of them when they were together. Joohyun had a knack for breaking things when her emotions got the better of her, after all.

 

“Then again, I always loved sleeping in, so maybe I'm just lazy today.” Yeri says.

 

Joohyun's sighing, but Yeri catches a small smile curving her lips from the corner of her eyes.

 

“Well, you always did say you liked staying in bed because it’d smell nice.”

 

Yeri hums, drawing tiny circles on the back of the sweater she was lent to wear.

 

“Only because it’d smell of you.”

 

Joohyun's chuckles are a welcoming relief, like she already knows. Yeri shuts her eyes when Joohyun swipes off a loose strand of hair from her face.

 

“It's not hard to find vanilla and lavender, Yerim.” Joohyun pauses, “And especially not fabric softener.”

 

Yeri giggles, opening her eyes to be greeted by Joohyun's smile. To think she's still weak under her gaze.

 

She goes back to avoiding her scrutiny, finding Joohyun's bin of broken picture frames far more interesting to look at. Or so she tells herself.

 

“So you didn't mean any of it?”

 

Yeri doesn't have to think twice to know what Joohyun's referring to. It's all in her voice, how gentle it attempts to usher her into spilling her heart, how conviction lines each syllable as sturdy as Joohyun's always been when it comes to seeking the truth.

 

(“I was just messing with you. I didn’t mean any of it, so don’t overthink it.”)

 

“What would you do if I did?

 

Silence greets her, a company Yeri is no stranger to. She has spent more time with the quiet than being with Joohyun.

 

Yeri hates it.

 

“Don't worry so much, unnie.” She's attempting to , but it comes out sounding as helpless as she feels. “It was just a question.”

 

Joohyun has this look on her face, a frown seemingly permanent on her lips, the skin between her brows crinkled – Yeri can feel how she's searching her. Her gaze is deep enough to make her lungs collapse if she stares any longer.

 

But it's what Joohyun says after that breaks her lungs apart.

 

“...Aren't you tired of lying to me?”

 

It's almost funny. Joohyun sounds exhausted – of her, or something else, Yeri can't tell.

 

But Joohyun's still combing her hair, and Yeri can't ignore the patience running from each fingertip; drawing along her scalp, feeling it slide over the skin, creating tremors into her bloodstream.

 

Joohyun's still gentle with her and Yeri hates it.

 

“You weren't supposed to know,” Yeri pauses, “...That I still love you.” She doesn't know why she's choosing to be honest now, of all times. But it’s out. “I guess I wasn't as good at lying as I thought I'd be.”

 

Yeri doesn't know whether it's better to stop telling the truth or not.

 

Joohyun hums.

 

“No, you were pretty good.” She says, her pause making Yeri look back up at her. “After all, I believed you when you said you'd come back to me.”

 

(“Where are you going?”

 

“I'll be right back. Just wait for me, okay?”

 

“Okay.”)

 

Yeri is all too aware of that mistake she made; she still remembers how fear crept up her lungs, choking back on honesty to spill comfortable lies instead. Or maybe she was so selfish that she just wanted Joohyun's smile to be her goodbye – regardless of it having been out of blissful ignorance.

 

“Why did you leave me, Yerim?”

 

Ah. There it is. That question.

 

Yeri purses her lips, gaze straying from Joohyun's to settle on a button on the woman's collar; anything to get away from the lost and hurt she finds in her eyes.

 

“Was I not enough to make you stay?”

 

It makes the words come out like bile past Yeri’s mouth, scratching , making water pool under her eyes.

 

“You were enough for me to leave.”

 

Joohyun’s fingers freeze to a still above her brow, like the gears in them have stopped working. Yeri almost winces at Joohyun’s touch fading from her skin, Joohyun’s silence becoming all that Yeri can hear.

 

It’s so, so, loud.

 

“Because I loved you,” Yeri’s plowing on, afraid of the quiet. “Why did I avoid you? Because I loved you. Why did I pretend that I wasn't still in love with you? Because I loved you. And why didn't I leave like I was supposed to so I'd be halfway to Joy unnie's apartment by now? Because I still love you.”

 

Joohyun's brows are narrowing.

 

Yeri could already see her dagger tongue.

 

“So you left me behind because you loved me? You lied saying you'd come back because you loved me?” Flurries of questions spill like bullet rain, each drop a stinging pain Yeri's been fearful of hearing. “...And you're still not telling me why, because you love me?”

 

Yeri squeezes her eyes at the shrill desperation in Joohyun's voice; something she didn't think Joohyun would still have for her. It makes guilt fester faster when Joohyun’s fingers return in her hair, brushing strands like it’s all her hand knows how to do. Yeri bites her lip, shoving her fingers away – along with every desire she still has for Joohyun.

 

She wrenches the blanket off, dumps the clothes somewhere behind her, and stands because she can't bear to hear what Joohyun has to say.

 

“Yes,” Yeri’s moving fast, slithering past Joohyun. “Besides, I knew you’d be fine without me.”

 

Run,

 

“I wasn't,” Joohyun's trapping her wrist, yanking her back. “I couldn't help but look for you in cups of coffee I never learned to like.”

 

Run,

 

Yeri’s gritting her teeth, tugging; she won't fall back in her arms. Not now.

 

Hurry and run,

 

“But you stopped already, didn't you?” Yeri’s eyes snap back to meet Joohyun's, “You're not looking for me anymore.”

 

“So you weren't afraid of losing me?”

 

Something cracks in Yeri's chest, as if all the locks of lies she's latched on has broken open, her heart bleeding every bit of cherished secrets she's ever hidden spilling for Joohyun to see.

 

Yeri’s gritting her teeth so they don’t fall out completely, hoping that tears won't spill past her eyelids, too. She can't cry just yet – not when Joohyun can see her.

 

But Joohyun isn't letting her go, even when Yeri attempts to take her arm back. She grunts, but Joohyun doesn’t budge, and it makes Yeri's blood boil more; it’s rushing through her limbs, teeth clenching tight, fists squeezing into white.

 

“Just let me go!”

 

Yeri’s growing delirious, digging nails into the taller woman’s skin with her other hand, attempt to rip Joohyun’s hold off. It’s somewhat cathartic to see lines of red against white, Joohyun’s wince not going unnoticed.

 

Yeri shouldn’t care that she’s hurting Joohyun. She can’t care, she’s not supposed to—

 

Joohyun’s grimacing, feeling the older woman’s skin peel under her fingertips, each line filling up with blood. Yeri’s chest is swelling with worry already dancing along the edges of her lips.

 

But all Joohyun has to do is let go. That way, she won’t be hurting her anymore, so why can’t Joohyun just—

 

Yeri can't hold it in anymore.

 

— just stop being stubborn.

 

“Of course I was! I was terrified!” She shoves Joohyun, hard enough to finally make her let go. “But I loved you more than that – I loved you so much that I left so you can go anywhere! So you can—”

 

“What makes you think I'd want to go anywhere without you?” Joohyun’s question has Yeri's mouth clicking shut. “You know that I'd do anything for you—”

 

Yeri flares up, reacting on impulse, triggered at the thought of Joohyun still willing to offer her anything when it's no longer possible. She pretends not to see red drip along the back of Joohyun’s hand, spilling droplets against wooden floors.

 

“Don't say that!” Yeri’s fists are going white, throat on fire. “Don't you dare say that!”

 

“But it’s tr—”

 

Yeri jabs a finger against the older woman's chest, pushing harder for every point she makes. All she’s learned to do besides how to run away is how to hurt someone.

 

To think she’s hurting Joohyun again – she’s really better off without her.

 

“Because I'd order you to kiss me,” Yeri pretends not to see Joohyun wince under each pressure, “I'd tell you to make love to me,” her vision is blurring, but Yeri ignores the hot tears that finally spill from her eyelids. “And then I'd want you to tell me that you're still in love with me too!”

 

“Yerim...”

 

Yeri spots how red Joohyun's skin has become, a splotch of pain on pale skin, but even when Yeri wants to apologize for hurting her – again and again and again, she's angrier that Joohyun is letting her.

 

To think Joohyun's doing absolutely nothing to fight back – it’s infuriating.

 

Yeri can't help but lash out even more; the emotions she's kept to herself have swallowed her whole, corrupted her body, and seized her mind.

 

She slams her fists against Joohyun's shoulders, forces her to back off – to leave her alone. But all it does is make Joohyun falter for a moment, before she's stepping back in again, as if she didn't just try to push the older woman away.

 

Yeri wants to rip everything apart: that wistful smile on Joohyun's face, that understanding colored in her eyes – it's maddening.

 

“I know what you mean when you say you'd do anything for me,” Yeri's panting, noting the way Joohyun only continues to listen. “But that's not what I want.”

 

“Then what do you—”

 

Yeri’s tired of her questions.

 

She shoves Joohyun onto the bed, not waiting for the older woman to recover, hearing her grunt, ignoring how Joohyun attempts to sit up. Yeri rushes to trap her.

 

She pins Joohyun back down, cradling the woman's face with trembling fingers, already growing intoxicated by the touch of Joohyun breathing against her lips.

 

Yeri's tears haven't stopped falling, and even when Joohyun's attempting to catch them, feeling her thumbs wipe each streak away from her eyes, Yeri only gets angrier.

 

“I want you.” She attempts to growl, but it comes out as a whimper instead, her words butchered down to the only thing that matters. “...I want you.” Yeri sobs, crying for the way her lips plead words against Joohyun's silent mouth. “I still want you, unnie...”

 

(“I can't afford to want her more than I already do.”)

 

Yeri would laugh at the thought of just how badly she had failed, but Joohyun's not pushing her away and it only makes her that much more frustrated.

 

Yeri thought she'd be okay after everything was said and done – she was supposed to be okay.

 

But she’s not.

 

“...Why can't I be okay with just wanting you?”

 

God, she's such a hypocrite.

 

Yeri can't help but write her longing against Joohyun's mouth, missing the soft touch of flesh across her own lips, that signature vanilla filling her up.

 

Her words have come back to haunt her.

 

“I want to be your home again...” Yeri says, "...just like how you're still mine.”

 

She wants to erase the label Joohyun has given to Wendy. Maybe she should just kiss her even, and forget everything else. Pretend there’s no consequence, no reason, no doubt, no hesitation – nothing but the shrill urge to just kiss her.

 

Yeri stops thinking.

 

“Does Wendy unnie know you consider her 'Home'?”

 

Joohyun’s brows are furrowing, confusion swirling her eyes, a frown drawing along .

 

“No, I—” she pauses, “How do you know that?”

 

Yeri ignores her, her own lips. No more second-guessing.

 

“So you two aren't dating yet, right?”

 

“No, but…”

 

“Good. I won't feel too guilty about this, then.”

 

Before Joohyun gets to protest, form words along her pursed mouth, Yeri hushes her, tasting sweet vanilla she still has imprinted in every dream.

 

Yeri's aware of how much wrong there is to this, but she has cared for so long about what she should and shouldn't do, that she's never been able to do what she wants.

 

Joohyun has said she'd do anything for her.

 

So Yeri dares her to try.

 

“Kiss me,”

 

Yeri pulls back, catches Joohyun's eyes widen at the command, falling to open.

 

“I told you, didn't I?” She taps Joohyun's nose, “Unless you didn’t mean it when you said you’d do anything for me.”

 

Joohyun's mouth shifts to a close, and Yeri thinks this is it; everything's over, but when she's leaning in, taking her lips, Yeri has to remind herself that Joohyun's kissing her only because she told her to.

 

Yeri urges her to keep going, hands slithering to cradle Joohyun's neck, fingers trailing over the lines of her collarbone. She gasps when Joohyun traps her bottom lip, breath hitching at the older woman's hands crawling around her hips, fingers gripping her close.

 

Yeri's almost convinced that Joohyun still loves her enough to touch her like this, but Joohyun carries a competitive spirit; she’s never been the type to settle for less, especially when it’s a promise she herself has made.

 

She scrawls emotions along Joohyun's lips in return, writing memory lane with every kiss.

 

Joohyun doesn't taste quite the same. There's still that sweet vanilla colored on , much like all the dreams Yeri sleeps to every night. But there's a hint of raspberry and Yeri is terrified of the possibility that it belongs to someone else.

 

Yeri doesn't want to think about it.

 

She bites back a snarl attempting to crawl up . Yeri scrapes against soft vanilla, attempting to take it all for herself.

 

There's still a wish she wants to make, eyes fluttering open so she could see the damage she inflicts.

 

She wonders if Joohyun could possibly go through with it. How far would she go to prove her point?

 

“Make love to me.”

 

Joohyun stills, as if her words have frozen her cold. It probably did, all things considered.

 

She catches the hesitation coloring Joohyun's eyes, a flash of guilt that should be eating Yeri up too, but Yeri's already way past having a care for everyone else's expectations except her own that she can't stop.

 

Yeri needs to see how far Joohyun's willing to go – how far Joohyun's stubborn streak will carry them both.

 

But Joohyun's candor has never been just a passing decoration.

 

“Then I'd be lying to you.”

 

Yeri doesn't need to feel the pain that clings to her chest, the sharp conviction in Joohyun's voice puncturing enough to make holes in her lungs, air escaping her lips as if she had been physically hurt. She might as well have been.

 

There’s a knock on Joohyun’s bedroom door.

 

“Hey, um, breakfast is ready. I’ll be doing the laundry downstairs, okay?”

 

Wendy’s voice filters through, a muffled mess that eats away at Yeri’s ears, coloring her limbs green at Joohyun’s attention drifting off from her the second Wendy speaks.

 

Joohyun’s already pulling back, her lips about to form words but Yeri beats her to it, her mind already whirring away – she’s thinking, again.

 

“Coming, Wendy unnie!”

 

She’s hopping off Joohyun, frantic to pretend isn’t still burning from the taste of vanilla she’s missed so much.

 

Yeri leaves the room for a distraction from her rampant heart, but Wendy's already waving a quick goodbye at the door that by the time Yeri attempts to call her back, the lock is clicking to a close.

 

Joohyun's coming up around the kitchen countertop, sliding an empty plate towards her.

 

“Here,”

 

But all Yeri really sees are the lines of red scratched along the surface of Joohyun's hand. Yeri pretends her heart isn't climbing up , taking Joohyun's wrist and being careful not to touch the pain written on her skin.

 

“Where's your first-aid kit?”

 

Joohyun's frowning.

 

“It's fine, Yerim.”

 

But it's not. Frustration boils along her limbs, rippling under her skin.

 

“Just let me fix what I can.” It's not an order when her voice cracks to a plead, “Please...”

 

Maybe this is why Joohyun's better off without her. She can't imagine Wendy hurting her like she has.

 

Joohyun's silent when she takes her wrist, guiding her to the bathroom and plucking the first-aid kit out of the cabinet.

 

Yeri grasps the container, ushering Joohyun to sit on the closed toilet seat, pretending she can't feel Joohyun's eyes never leaving her. It’s hard to ignore the fact that they just kissed a moment ago – how temptation rises with each minute Joohyun is alone with her.

 

“You could've just let go, you know.” She attempts to scold but it doesn't come off as commanding as she had hoped, “It looks like it hurts.”

 

Yeri sees the way Joohyun grimaces, her jaw tensing at the touch of antiseptic coloring over the lines of red, small trickles of blood sliding off her skin. She catches each drop with a napkin, patting along the surface, careful to avoid pressing against the marks she's left on Joohyun.

 

Joohyun only hums, almost as if content with the quiet that hovers over them. Yeri can't quite tell, especially not when she's trying to dodge Joohyun's gaze that attempts to meet her eyes.

 

“You've always been stubborn,” familiarity colors her tongue, fingers fiddling with the edges of Joohyun's soft skin, the lines of her hand a map Yeri's got memorized to heart. “...I'm glad you're still stubborn. Even if it makes you out to be an idiot.”

 

Joohyun says nothing, and Yeri is relieved, if only so that she won't have to hear the older woman's opinion of her. Her silence is welcoming, for the most part. Yeri doesn’t dare think it’s because Joohyun’s looking back at a kiss they had shared – nothing good would come out of it.

 

Sticking a bandage wrap over wounded skin, Yeri is shifting around to return the container, opening the cabinet, when Joohyun breaks the quiet.

 

“…You're the reason those girls stopped hurting me, aren't you?”

 

Yeri's heart pauses. A memory of her father trickles into her mind.

 

(“Then what do you want,” She remembers trying not to yell, “To get you to stop. What will it take?”

 

His smirk still haunts her.

 

“Just end it with her.”)

 

The first-aid kit slips from her fingers, clanging against the tiled floor and breaking open, the contents clattering out.

 

Yeri spots the bandage wrap roll away, thudding against the wall of the tub. But she can't move to retrieve it – she's stuck. Like she’s standing in front of the door, again.

 

“I found it a little off how these random girls were acting out like they were still high school kids stuck in college. But I didn't think much of it.” Joohyun's voice is frighteningly calm, almost calculating. “I didn't care about them pushing me around either because I knew I could handle it. Even if it got petty and we'd end up having fights and I'd leave with some bruises and a sore wrist.”

 

Yeri can't move from where she stands, even when she sees Joohyun bend down to slink the tiny boxes of band-aids and bandage wraps into place, tucking the first-aid kit into the cabinet.

 

Joohyun rises to pause in front of her.

 

“You left me because you loved me.” Yeri doesn't dare to look up, even when Joohyun's hand is cradling her cheek. “That was what you meant when you said that, isn't it?”

 

Yeri's eyes widen.

 

“W-What? No! Of course not—”

 

“Then why did they stop bothering me as soon as I couldn't reach you anymore?”

 

Yeri's mouth snaps shut.

 

Joohyun's chuckling, but the sound is more out of growing realization than happiness. Yeri can feel how Joohyun's fingers tremor against her skin, her eyes lit with a fire waiting to collapse and burst into waves over her limbs.

 

“...I should've known.”

 

Yeri's mind is whirling away, a hurricane of panic racking her skull. She's more concerned with preventing Joohyun from getting impulsive than the truth coming out.

 

If Joohyun finds out that it was her father – the woman's own professor and supervisor, then she would've given up their relationship for nothing. Yeri can't have Joohyun’s impulsivity damage her own future for a relationship that didn't last.

 

“Unnie—”

 

“Who is it,” Joohyun’s seething and the panic only rises faster in Yeri’s chest, “Who made you leave me?”

 

She pretends not to hear the anger coiling Joohyun's voice, as if it'd snap open and burn everything in its wake.

 

“No one did! It was a choice I made and—”

 

But Joohyun's not listening. She's already moving away and Yeri barely manages to catch the woman's wrist before she could storm out the bathroom.

 

Joohyun's yanking her hand back.

 

“W-Wait, where are you going?!”

 

“If you're not telling me, then I'll ask someone else.”

 

“Who?!”

 

But Joohyun doesn't answer her, as if she's never heard her. It makes fear shoot up higher, wrapping itself around Yeri's chest, clawing up , running along her tongue. Her words are coming out chopped, terror for the truth scraping through her bones.

 

“U-Unnie! Wait—!”

 

Yeri's tripping on terror, scrambling to clutch at Joohyun's back, but her fingers barely mark the surface of the sweater. Joohyun's steps stomp the floor as if welded in steel, each thud a reminder that Joohyun is about to destroy everything she's given up.

 

She wrenches Joohyun's jacket as soon as the older woman plucks it off the rack, ignoring the blaze in Joohyun's eyes.

 

Yeri finds it ironic that they've circled back to when she had left Joohyun behind. But Joohyun's the one in front of the door, now.

 

“Yerim—”

 

“It's done! We're already done!” Her voice is ragged and breathy and desperate, “Even if you could do something, what difference would that make?! It's Wendy unnie who you're in love with now and—”

 

“And before that, I was in love with you!”

 

It's the loudest Joohyun's ever been. They've had their share of arguments, where doors would slam and echo like gunshots to the heart, but Yeri's never heard Joohyun yell like the world has crumbled over.

 

Yeri can feel her hands attempt to reach out, to hold Joohyun and stop her from shaking, but there's a fury too engraved into Joohyun's bones. Her eyes are alight with an understanding that makes Yeri choke on all the lies she's learned to swallow.

 

Joohyun knows.

 

Yeri's not sure how to feel about that.

 

“...What we had was something I never wanted to lose,” Joohyun's twisting away, sliding on her boots. Yeri could hear how hard Joohyun's breathing, as if is scorching. “But I did, and I can't take that back.”

 

Yeri wants to move, but just like earlier this morning, her feet have stilled as if nailed to the floor. Her heart quickens when Joohyun turns the knob of the apartment's door, her jacket still stuck in Yeri's grip. Joohyun’s not trying to take it back.

 

“Unnie...”

 

It's weak and pathetic and ridiculous how she's trying to fill every ounce of herself into a call she knows Joohyun would still ignore. But it's all she has left to stop Joohyun from walking out that door and ruining every quiet moment she had where she knew that her choice, at the end of the day, would eventually have Joohyun be okay without her.

 

If Joohyun leaves now, then everything she's done would have been pointless. There wouldn't have been a need to switch schools, wake up alone, avoid Joohyun's calls, hide behind corners to dodge the days when Joohyun would walk down the same street as her—

 

Yeri could see how her vision is blurring again; the tears are welling up beneath her eyes, spilling out to cascade over her skin.

 

— there wouldn't have been a need to leave her.

 

“Don't make me regret leaving you more than I already do, unnie.”

 

Giving up Joohyun for Wendy to come in and steal her away can't be the result of something pointless.

 

It can't. 

 

“I'm going to fight for us, Yerim. Even if it isn't there anymore.”

 

Yeri watches her disappear behind a closing door, listening to the lock click shut, taking all the lies Yeri has told along with her. There’s nothing but the truth that hangs over Yeri’s shoulders now, flitting about in the air, entering her lungs with the breaths she takes in.

 

Her tears have made their marks on her skin, but even that couldn’t keep Joohyun from leaving.

 

Yeri laughs into a shaking hand, a broken sob spilling her lips, attempting to dry her eyes with jittery fingers, but they’re still welling up. It’s too late now. She can’t take it back.

 

“…You’ve always been stubborn.”

 

-

 

AN:

 

An update long overdue. I swear, this chapter has the most number of drafts; my eyeballs feel like they’re hanging out of their sockets by a thread. But yay it’s done! Hopefully 2017’s been good to you.

 

Hope you all have enjoyed this update. Until next time.

 

PS: Hi there, NT anon. :)