Yeri doesn't consider herself to be brave. Never was, never is, never would, and probably will never be. She knows this.

 

She tends to stick close to her world's status quo – conform to its premade notions of what's expected and accepted. Knows right from wrong – black and white. She knows this too.

 

Some are good – that they made sense.

 

Things like, 'School first before anything else,' 'Dress properly; no short skirts,' 'Don't walk through alleyways alone at night,' and so on. Things like these were rules that were easy enough to follow, and they weren't ambiguous in terms of purpose; they were there to make her grow into a better, wiser person. They made sense.

 

But then there were other rules, some not explicitly made but she knew they were there. 'You can hold your female friend's hand, hug, and kiss her; just don't hold on for too long and don't kiss on the lips.'

 

So it never made sense to her when people told her she was brave.

 

"I'm home," Yeri chirped as she clicked the lock to a close that one night back in May.

 

She remembers that particular day. How the slight chill in the air flitted past her cheeks, tainting them a rosy hue from the cold of spring as she walked home; shoes and socks evidently soaked from each splotching step; her clothes and hair sharing the same sentiment.

 

Yeri hadn't cared much for the impromptu shower though, enjoying the quiet journey home and the clinking heavy rain. Though it would've certainly been nice to have an umbrella at the time.

 

"Oh good, you're just in time to meet our precious visitor." Her mother said as she ushered Yeri out of her coat, splashes of loose water dropping to the carpet floor.

 

"Visitor?" Yeri remembered the way her voice still gave way to curiosity, surprised at the notion of a guest in their house. "Why?"

 

Her mother led her to the bathroom, peeling a towel off the steel bar rack and ruffling her hair against it.

 

"Your father wanted his best grad student to practice her thesis presentation here before her actual scheduled defense this coming Thursday." She said as her fingers kneaded the cloth against her scalp, Yeri feeling a bit lost at the explanation. "And she did well, so you get to meet her before she goes."

 

The idea of a stranger (and one of her father's students no less) being in her house felt weird. It felt like one of those dramas she had seen with her sisters about a husband having an affair behind his wife's back with a younger woman.

 

The irrational thought made her want to see this student and kick her out of the house.

 

"Where is she?" Yeri muttered as she unclasped her mother's fingers over her head.

 

"In the living room, packing up her things."

 

Great, she thought then, circling her mother to confront her herself. Her mother made no move to stop her, most likely presuming she wanted to say hello.

 

She was partially right.

 

Yeri paused by the entrance of the room at the sight of a woman dressed in a white-collar shirt and black skinny jeans flitting through her brown messenger bag. She couldn't see her face from the way raven locks drooped over her side profile, masking what she assumed to be pale skin of her cheek, noting the slim ghostly white shade of her fingers.

 

She looked young.

 

… Like that dreadful woman in the drama who had an affair with the husband (Yeri wondered if she was getting a bit carried away).

 

Yeri cleared .

 

"Hey." She called out, meaning to sound every bit stern and unwelcoming, volume slightly above an indoor voice.

 

Yeri crinkled her brows at the way the woman practically jumped from the sound, her yelp an odd mix of a squeak and screech, her elbow toppling over her notebooks to scatter over the carpet.

 

Meeting giant brown eyes looking startled beyond comprehension made Yeri wonder how she could suddenly go from protective eldest daughter to guilt ridden host in a matter of seconds.

 

Maybe it was in the way the woman could look so lost that it plucked the hardened strings latched to her chest (though the thought itself was silly – she made sure Joy helped her replace them with steel strings; learned how to not care much about others).

 

"I see you've met my brightest student," Her father's hand was heavy on her shoulder.

 

Yeri focused back on the woman, watched her stand and bow, before rising up with a shy smile playing her lips.

 

"... Hi," her voice was as quiet as she looked.

 

Pretty, was Yeri's immediate first impression; once the woman had her poise settled.

 

She had big eyes – deep pools of chestnut – that looked to be pages of a book she couldn't quite read the words to, carrying secrets under long lashes acting as walls for the woman's thoughts.

 

Demure yet mysterious.

 

There was a certain charm in seeing someone carry both fragility and silent strength from her hands crossed professionally over her stomach to her straightened back and rigid shoulders.

 

If Yeri hadn't seen the woman's earlier flimsy reaction to her simple call, she would have mistaken her as an uptight military lieutenant instead.

 

"Joohyun, meet Yeri – my eldest daughter." Yeri felt her father nudge her forward, let her feet touch the maroon carpet as she teetered towards the slightly taller woman. "Yeri, she's Joohyun – a shy but knowledgeable observer. If you need any advice, she's a keeper."

 

Yeri didn't miss the tints of fatherly affection he had when he mentioned the woman's character traits. It didn't take much brain cells to know he was quite fond of his student.

 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Joohyun,"

 

Yeri stared blankly as the woman bowed her head a little again, distracted by the slight curve on the corner of the stranger's lips. The small curl breaking into a timid smile had drawn color to Yeri's cheeks, suddenly feeling bashful too for being on the receiving end of pretty, very pretty, pearly whites.

 

"Y-Yerim," Yeri cleared , swallowing hard as her hand motioned to shake Joohyun's. "B-But I prefer Yeri."

 

"Okay, Yeri." She said with a tilting smile, a grin fleetingly cracking between her pink lips, as if to taste the name on her tongue.

 

Yeri would've crashed into a heap on the floor from weak, weak knees if it hadn't been for her father standing behind her acting as a pedestal for her jumbled nerves.

 

"It was nice meeting everyone, professor." Joohyun said once her fingers were freed from Yeri's timid grip. "I should get going though or else I'll miss my bus."

 

She turned back to stuff her fallen books into her bag. Yeri had quickly hurried to lend a hand, feeling remorseful for her earlier treatment to the older woman, attempting to hide shivering hands from every touch of their skin.

 

"Are you sure you don't want a ride home, Joohyun?" Yeri's father asked as the woman motioned to stand, looping her arms through her jacket.

 

Joohyun shook her head, an appreciative, "No that's okay, thanks," flowing past her lips as she hung her satchel over her shoulder.

 

Yeri watched in silent awe as Joohyun motioned to linger at the front door, slipping on her black converse shoes before sending them a meek wave and a fleeting smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

 

Joohyun's whispered, "Goodbye," was as mute as the stutters in Yeri's fingers as she watched the woman disappear behind a closing door.

 

"So," her father's voice broke the quiet as he patted her shoulder, a ghost of a smile playing his lips. "What do you think? A good kid, isn't she?"

 

Yeri thought back to her first preconceived notion of the woman (before she even got to see her) and thought it was silly of her to assume the worst. Then again, it was always better to be safe than sorry, and startling the stranger (it was her intention in the first place) gave her a glimpse of just how wrong she was for thinking ill of her.

 

Yeri didn't mind being proven otherwise as long as the pay off was better. And Joohyun was.

 

Yeri nodded, "She's cool."

 

Her father's hearty laugh tinkled Yeri's lips into a grin.

 

-

 

Yeri hadn't seen Joohyun since.

 

It wasn't that she was looking for the older girl (though in the deepest part of her mind, something loved to tell her otherwise), it was just that her normal routine of school, study, eat, sleep, and repeat, bored her beyond the scope of the internet and latest gossip.

 

As much as she was updated with the latest trends thanks to her large social circle, Yeri wasn't too keen on keeping up with her fellow peers in terms of fashion sprees to freaking about the current cute boy next door to her classroom.

 

Yeri thought her father would invite the woman again for another visit, whether it was for a grad project or for a simple greeting. High school students rarely interacted with university graduates, so Yeri knew there was no way they could meet other than through her father or sheer luck. As much as Yeri wanted to ask for the girl's whereabouts, she didn't.

 

At best, she was still merely a stranger; there would've been nothing to talk about anyway.

 

So why was she even thinking this hard about her?

 

Curiosity, maybe.

 

"Here's your order, miss."

 

Yeri smiled as she took her drink, a regular coffee – double double, before settling herself at her usual spot by the corner of the café.

 

She always loved the quaint air of a simple coffee shop, how the lighting could manage to be of smoky amber, adding texture to the burnished walls and marble floorings. The smell of it wafting through gave a charming character to its overall cozy atmosphere. Yeri wondered if it was a coffee café thing to carry such somber ambience.

 

Her drink was warm against her tongue as her eyes swept across the window, gazing out into the pouring rain silvering the streets in monochrome. She recognized the bus stop across the street; a temporary station she frequented as a junior. She didn’t need it anymore when her high school was closer, smiling at the memories of her friends dancing about waiting for the bus to come.

 

Feeling oddly nostalgic (her parents would argue that she wasn’t even that old), Yeri walked past the double doors and into the evening rain, holding up her book bag to act as a shield for her head.

 

Yeri laughed to herself as the pools of water fluttered and splashed against her feet, her socks undoubtedly drenched, ignoring the fact that her uniform was getting soaked more so than when she first entered the café.

 

Trudging into the small shelter, swiping at her bag to loosen the reigns of water latching onto the leather material, Yeri only realized there was another person huddled at the corner when the stranger looked up between locks of ebony so dark that Yeri mistook her for a particular horror movie character.

 

“G-GET AWAY!” She screeched, whacking her book bag against the dark figure attempting to stand, still frighteningly mute until the impact made it squeak.

 

Since when did it switch from awful nightmarish groans to a squealing bunny?

 

“… Ow,” it – she groaned, whimpering quietly that Yeri suddenly felt apologetic, bending down to recognize pale white skin and a brown messenger bag.

 

It was –

 

“J-Joohyun unnie?!” Yeri yelped, immediately massaging the poor older woman’s scalp, grimacing at Joohyun’s wince at her touch. Her apologies bled out like a broken water pipe. “I am so, so sorry, unnie! I-I didn’t, I didn’t mean to, I just – I thought you were –”

 

“… I didn’t even climb out of a well, yet.”

 

Yeri paused, her fingers stopping at the base of Joohyun’s head, long silky locks filling between the spaces of her skin – soft to the touch.

 

Joohyun wasn’t necessarily wrong; she was just a little… off with the reference considering the Ring wasn’t actually the film Yeri was thinking about (both movies did have a girl with long dark creepy hair, after all). The two characters were pretty much the same so Yeri couldn’t blame the girl for trying.

 

She was close enough.

 

Yeri laughed, “Yeah, you scared me enough already by just sitting here.” She quipped playfully, going back to kneading her fingers through the older girl’s scalp again, settling beside her on the bench. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

 

Joohyun’s raised eyebrow looked like it couldn’t even comprehend her question, as if to say, ‘Really, now?’ But despite knowing that she should feel embarrassed, Yeri could only pay attention to the specks of makeup dusting the older woman’s cheeks, how close enough she was to see the flickering sparks in pools of brown; how it shimmered against the topaz of the streetlight.

 

“… You’re asking me what I’m doing waiting at a bus stop?” She deadpanned, a tilt at the corner of her lips curling upwards, clearly amused.

 

Yeri had enough self-control not to show that she was flustered, rolling her eyes instead to keep the pink from rising up her neck.

 

“It’s a plausible question,” Yeri retorted, unable to remove her fingers from smooth strings of ebony. She didn’t want to. “Who knows, maybe you just want to sit here and stay out of the rain.”

 

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Joohyun asked, leaning in closer as if to make it easier for her, shortening the distance between them. “Because I’m just waiting for the bus.”

 

Yeri was surprised at the woman’s poised composure. There was no hint of the shy grad student that had visited her home, from the way she didn’t shift from her touch, how she didn’t seem bothered by their proximity.

 

Yeri’s fingers still couldn’t help but continue to massage through soft locks.

 

She pretended not to be the only one suddenly affected by the minute gap between them; pretended not to notice the way her hands have lowered to linger just behind Joohyun’s ears, her thumbs cradling the space just below the back of soft flesh.

 

The intimacy startled Yeri back in place.

 

“O-Oh, um, yes. That’s right,” her hands jolted back to her sides, her fingers tingling from the memory of Joohyun’s warm skin. “I just – I like the rain?”

 

It wasn’t really a lie.

 

Joohyun just hummed, seemingly unbothered by her jumpy behavior, merely leaning back against the transparent wall of the bus shelter as if exhausted from the wait.

 

Yeri took note of the black umbrella settled beside the older girl, spots of water dripping off from its folded edges. She wondered how long she had been in here waiting.

 

“The bus is late,” Joohyun said aloud, as if having read her mind.

 

Yeri kept mute as she settled against the glass wall, feeling her clothes stick tighter to her skin, her skirt a flimsy cover against the cold of the steel bench. She glanced at the older girl’s attire, noting navy blue jeans and her signature brown pea coat. 

 

She never noticed just how sharp Joohyun’s jaw line was, to how the slope of her nose was as defined as the streaks of red Yeri got from every marked test that screamed ‘Do better – what’s with the 55%?’ for each exam she has ever written.

 

Yeri pretended the reminder didn’t bother her.

 

“Shouldn't you be shy?” She said out of the blue, away from the thoughts that haunted her of how not perfect she was as an eldest daughter.

 

Joohyun didn’t seem bothered at all.

 

“Normally, yes. But right now? No. Why would I be when you're the one who whacked me with a bag?” She chuckled, lighthearted like she was fond of the memory; it made Yeri’s insecurities trickle back to disappear for the moment.

 

Yeri fiddled with the folds of her skirt.

 

“... Oh, right. Sorry about that,” she muttered, remembering her previous mistake, still feeling apologetic for it.

 

Gentle fingers played against her head, patting gently.

 

“You’re forgiven.” Joohyun said quietly, a hint of her meek persona prodding against the edges of her voice before pulling her hand back to settle in her coat pocket again.

 

It was a pleasant surprise.

 

Yeri realized, as they shifted back to their shared silence with background noise of rain going, plop plop plop, playing as a soundtrack to their company – that if Joohyun was comfortable enough, she was as snarky as her shrewd grandmother, and as sweet as her best friend Joy (when she didn’t feel like being much of a devil – which wasn’t very often).  

 

Yeri wondered if she should say her thoughts out loud.

 

“My bus is coming,” Joohyun’s statement broke strings of pictures in Yeri’s head as she watched the older girl stand.

 

Yeri rose from her seat, “Oh, okay. I guess I'll, um, see you whenever?” She probed timidly, clutching to her book bag against her chest.

 

Joohyun clasped at her black umbrella, “Are you walking?”

 

“Yes, but why –”

 

Yeri didn’t have enough time to wonder why she was asking when she felt Joohyun’s fingers curl around hers, the feel of slick plastic rubbing against her palm. It was Joohyun’s umbrella.

 

“Take this,” Joohyun murmured, making Yeri tighten a fist around the handle with slender pale fingers. “If you get sick because of the rain, then at least I could say I tried.”

 

Yeri would have argued the moment could have been sweeter without the last few words, but maybe Joohyun wasn’t much of an affectionate type in the first place.

 

“But don't you need it?” She asked, looking up as Joohyun looped her messenger bag over her shoulder.

 

Joohyun’s smile was small as she motioned to exit the shelter, the bus pausing to a stop in front of them.

 

“I'm not the one who’ll be playing in the rain.”

 

Before Yeri could protest, squeak out a “No, I don’t really play!” Joohyun was already waving her goodbye, walking up the stairs of the bus until the doors closed and Yeri couldn’t see her anymore.

 

But despite not knowing where the older girl sat, or whether she could even see her still, Yeri continued to wave her farewell until the bus faded into the grey of silver rain.

 

Joohyun’s warmth tickled at her fingers, how their skins had momentarily touched and Yeri wondered why her heat still lingered even when she was already gone.

 

-

 

Yeri figured she could give the umbrella back herself.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her father (at least, not when it came to personal feelings), she would just much rather see Joohyun herself.

 

They weren’t really strangers, anymore. Or at least, that was what Yeri thought. They talked about – well, they didn’t talk much, but it was certainly better than not having spoken at all. There were jokes too, and Joohyun had a bit – so that must’ve been a sign; it counted for something (Yeri pretended that this wasn’t all based on that one fated meeting they had in the rain – pfft, not at all).

 

Why Yeri bothered to think up many reasons – any reason, as to why they could work out as friends and not just be mere acquaintances with her father as the middleman, Yeri didn’t know.

 

“Yeri? What are you doing here?” That signature tone that managed to be both husky and delicate filtered into her ears, crawling in like a melody she couldn’t get out of her head.

 

Yeri bowed as she entered the laboratory, greeting strangers (whom she assumed were her father’s other batch of grad students) until she made it to Joohyun hovering near a fume hood.

 

She watched the older girl pipette a blue solution into a centrifuge tube before capping it to a close, setting it to the side (it helped that she had a tour once before when her father had first gotten the lab room).

 

“Just returning this,” Yeri chirped, gesturing to the black umbrella between her fingers. “Thanks, by the way.” She said, watching the woman peel off nitrile gloves and throwing it into the trash bin behind them.

 

Joohyun nodded her head, a growing smile curving the corners of her lips.

 

“So did you have fun?” She asked, almost teasingly, grasping the handle between Yeri’s palms, their skins threading together at the seams of their foggy friendship. “Playing in the rain, I mean.”

 

Yeri tried not to stare for too long at how Joohyun could look great in a white lab coat – her hair tied up into a ponytail, accentuating the edges of her jaw to the slopes of her neck.

 

“Hey, I’m more mature than you think.” She retorted, attempting to remove the thoughts of Joohyun invading her mind’s eye.

 

The woman snorted, “That wasn’t what I saw when you were jumping in the puddles before you assaulted me with your bag.” She snapped back playfully, a teasing brow arching upwards.

 

Yeri’s jaw dropped, a pout already curling across her lips as she attempted to dissuade the poor image Joohyun had of her. She trailed after the taller girl as she swept past her to scribble down on a notebook.

 

“… Didn’t I apologize for that already?” Yeri whined, her cheeks unconsciously puffing out at the way Joohyun’s lips drew into a Cheshire smile.

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t bring it up again.”

 

Yeri rolled her eyes, huffing as Joohyun patted at her back, as if to say, ‘Thanks for trying,’

 

“Great,” Yeri huffed in mock offense but she was grateful for their ease of a simple conversation – like they weren’t just strangers two nights ago.

 

“It is certainly a great conversation starter,” Joohyun began, her smile never leaving her lips.

 

“Right, like ‘Hey, nice to meet you. I got hit by my boss’ daughter because she thought I was the Grudge.’”

 

Joohyun furrowed her brows, her lips curling into a pout and Yeri thought then that she must be going crazy for thinking it was as cute as –

 

“Isn’t it the Ring?”

 

The circuits in her head stopped short, attempting to process the question as Joohyun looked at her like she had on an outfit that was as horrendous as her everyday wear.  

 

“That’s what you chose to dwell on?” Yeri choked out her surprise, trying to cover her laugh with a hand but the tremors were already clawing at and stomach.

 

“Yeah.” Joohyun said simply, tapping a finger to her chin, as if contemplating. “Everything else was right up until that point,”

 

Cute, was what Yeri thought then, unable to help herself as she swallowed in the picture of a clueless Joohyun, soak in the image reel of the older girl looking lost – an innocent expression painting pale skin that mirrored a naïve child’s.

 

Yeri didn’t want to correct the girl – the two characters were pretty much identical twins anyway, and let slip laughter that carried happiness in waves of a hurt stomach and gasping pair of lungs.

 

When Joohyun joined in her giggling spree, her eyes curving into tiny crescent moons, Yeri wanted nothing more than to have this moment stuck on repeat.

 

-

 

Out of fate – or perhaps persistence on Yeri’s part, they became close friends.

 

They hung out whenever they could, whether it was during their lunch breaks (if they managed to have them at the same time), or over the weekend (as long as Joohyun didn’t have any projects).

 

Their times spent together were easier to maintain due to Joohyun’s new mode of transport; a simple black sedan that allowed for spontaneous planning and plenty of detours; Yeri loved it.

 

At first, she didn’t consider them to be much of a match in terms of friendship compatibility. Yeri feared that their relationship was driven only by her own admiration for the older girl, attempting to understand why she had googly eyes even when Joohyun wasn’t looking.  

 

Yeri figured that maybe she also held fascination for the woman, how she carried herself like a mystery book, yet enchanting enough to be as soft as a children’s fairytale.

 

The more she got to know her, the more Joohyun bloomed like a prism flower, holding a spectrum of colors from violet secrets to red honesty. Yeri had sunken into a mesh of hues that spun blue confusion and orange frustration, stuck between the color wheel with no way out but to fade in into Joohyun’s eyes that carried promises of a forever with her.

 

Yeri wasn’t blind.

 

She didn’t know when it started – how it even got there; just that it did at one point, somewhere between their first true conversation at the bus stop to the swirls of moments they’ve been having together; whether it be simple hangouts at a coffee shop or spending time finding clothes more fitting for Joohyun (fashion wise – the girl was a walking disaster).

 

Yeri would notice the smallest of differences, how the older girl would open every door for her (it wasn’t like she minded – she liked the show of chivalry), or how she would just stare off as if lost in a daze from something on her face whenever they ate out together (it made Yeri self conscious – what if there was always something on her face?).

 

Joohyun would even tangle their fingers together, like what normal girls usually did when they were close enough to – but Joohyun would hold her just a bit closer, pull her in just enough so Yeri could mesh against her arm, urge Yeri to latch onto it with a longing look that kept making promises that Yeri was afraid to hear.

 

Joohyun’s eyes looked too much like hope and Yeri feared the fact that she could easily make it disappear. If she were to just say the wrong thing, do a wrong thing; hurt Joohyun without meaning to, then Yeri would rather not face it at all.

 

So Yeri pretended not to see that Joohyun was making promises too close that she could easily mistaken it for an ‘I love you’.

 

But it was hard.

 

“On second thought, I'll stick with the red lipstick. You can just stay your old plain self.” Yeri said matter-of-factly, scowling at the beautiful hue of ruby painted across plump lips.

 

They were just out shopping together.

 

Yeri wanted Joohyun to look more her age (though her face alone already told stories of just how young she was), so she opted for a new wardrobe and stylistic makeup befitting of an attractive woman.

 

She had Joohyun try out various brands, coloring her lips differing shades of lipstick with a practiced hand, and attempting to hide her squealing glee at every color that seemed to suit Joohyun like a tailored dress made just for her.

 

Choosing a color for Joohyun wasn’t the problem; it was the fact that Joohyun looked too good in all of them that Yeri started scavenging for a shade that didn’t make Joohyun out to be Aphrodite incarnate.

 

Yeri had to bite her lip whenever Joohyun asked her if the new color was okay (she had to resist pulling the older girl in by the neck 15 times – the horror), Yeri’s hand often stuck in a tremor whenever she continued to apply the final streaks across soft flesh, Joohyun waiting as patient as ever – her eyes still clearly bearing vows; wanting to be read aloud.

 

She couldn’t handle it anymore after the 16^th shade of red; calling quits as soon as it lit up a flame in Yeri’s chest at Joohyun’s tiny smile, the color curving along with it and her simple question – “Does it look okay?”

 

Oh no.

 

“Wasn't that basically the plan?” Joohyun’s voice called Yeri back to the problem at hand, blinking away the haze of a memory from just a few minutes ago.

 

“... For you, maybe.” Yeri adopted her façade of being completely fine and totally-unaffected self, pretending that she wasn’t just imagining coloring her own lips the same shade by using Joohyun’s as her pen. “My plan was to make you look a bit more fashionable, like, oh I don't know – your age.”

 

Her sense of rhythm of catching up with reality without crumbling under fantasies was thankfully still as sharp as ever.

 

Joohyun bothered to look scorned, a hand to her chest.

 

“What's wrong with how I dress?”

 

“It’s boring af.”

 

“...'Af?'”

 

“Get with the times, unnie.”

 

“Isn't that why you're here?” Joohyun asked, gesturing to Yeri's work of red lipstick smeared carefully across Joohyun's lips, a smirk painting her face.

 

Yeri felt a bit proud.

 

“...You're right. But now I want you to take it off.” She quipped, frowning at the way Joohyun’s lips looked deliciously delightful.

 

Joohyun’s mouth curled into a pout similar to her own.

 

“Why?”

 

Yeri glanced away, well aware of the pounding rhythm going louder in her chest, vibrating hard that her bones could feel it quake.

 

“Because you can't go around looking this hot and not expect me to be mad about it.” She murmured weakly, a mixture of a squeak and a yelp protruding at the final syllable, unable to hide the tremor rupturing past .

 

Joohyun still had on that annoying smirk (even from the corner of her eyes, Joohyun’s lips still managed to catch her attention – it didn’t help that her hair was tied up to a ponytail again), Joohyun’s brow having risen at the sound of ‘hot’, nudging Yeri with an elbow that Yeri attempted to swat away.

 

“Why would you be mad though –”

 

“Because,” She paused, biting her lip again. “I don’t want you to look this good in front of anyone else but me.” Yeri huffed, crossing her arms, resembling – for the first time, a child closer to her own age, her mask of maturity peeling off at the thought of Joohyun having eyes for someone else.

 

It was irrational, she knew, but the idea of Joohyun not really needing her (the older girl never really did – that, Yeri knew too) scared her far more than the monsters at night.

 

“I wouldn’t want that, either. “ Joohyun whispered, her voice just a tad lower than normal, huskier like it was lined with a secret and Yeri was startled at the shiver silvering along the contours of her spine.

 

It sounded oddly close to a confession. Yeri had an inkling it was.

 

It was just a matter of whether she’d acknowledge it.

 

Yeri looked up to see brown eyes that never really changed – that the obscurity of doubt and caution had cleared away, leaving words behind that Joohyun didn’t seem to know how to say.

 

“… Yeri,” she called out, like it was a sin to say her name – and it sort of was with the way Joohyun’s tongue curled around it like a caressing hand.

 

Yeri felt the air pause in , suddenly holding her breath at the tension flitting between the tiny spaces that kept their lips apart.

 

And then it was gone.

 

“Aren’t you going to remove it now?” Joohyun chirped like she wasn’t aware of the fleeting moment they just shared together, like she wasn’t just about to kiss her (Yeri knew she did – she had to, with the way her eyes still gleamed a shadowy want).

 

Taking Joohyun’s form of playful mercy, knowing the older girl had given her a chance to take reign but Yeri hadn’t been ready to make the same promise, Yeri giggled wistfully, swiping at Joohyun’s mouth with a cloth.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Just hold still,” she quipped back gently, thankful for the patience that continued to bleed from Joohyun in wisps of a small smile and a knowing pair of auburn pools.

 

But as Yeri continued to make the ruby fade from Joohyun’s lips, her thumb lingering at the edges of soft flesh, Yeri wondered how things would’ve gone if she had listened to the ringing in her chest and not the world’s blueprint script in her head.

 

Yeri wouldn’t have minded at all if Joohyun had kissed her.

 

She sort of wished she did.

 

-

 

It was in the middle of August when Yeri thought it’d be nice to be brave for once.

 

“Why do you always tie your hair up?” Yeri had asked as they stepped out into the rain, Joohyun’s black umbrella shielding the two of them as they huddled close together (she only ever saw it down once when Joohyun was a guest that first time in her house – and at the bus stop).

 

“Because it gets in the way when I'm reading my notes and textbooks.” Joohyun said simply, curling Yeri’s arm under her own.

 

“But you don't read them 24/7.” Yeri quipped lightly, automatically coiling her fingers against Joohyun’s grey jacket sleeve (which she had bought for her as a just-because present; much to the older girl’s delight and dismay – it was rather pricey).

 

“Like how you don't read yours at all but that you should because at this rate you won't be able to catch up this semester?”

 

Yeri made a gesture of a broken heart, cradling her chest, mock hurt spilling from her lips (they were close enough that Joohyun played as her tutor for science subjects).

 

“... Very funny, unnie. Have you always been this rude?”

 

Joohyun laughed, speaking gently as if to ease her remark.

 

“It's true. And yes, always.” She said, smirking – looking smug that Yeri slapped her on the arm to chastise her teasing.

 

“As. I. Was. Saying,” Yeri began, drawling out each chord of syllables as they turned a corner, “You look great with your hair down.”

 

Joohyun scoffed, “It's a hassle. It gets in the way.”

 

Yeri shrugged, “Fair enough. At least I know you're not insecure about your face or anything.”

 

“I have plenty more to worry about than how I look.” Joohyun retorted, poking at Yeri’s rib.

 

The younger girl giggled, “I can tell from the way you dress. Because, you know, the lack of fashion sense is strong in you, you oldie–”

 

Suddenly she was put into a headlock, Joohyun’s knuckles rubbing affectionately against her scalp.

 

“Oh shut it.” Joohyun growled, playful.

 

Yeri loved moments like these. How they could motion back and forth between soothing camaraderie to romantic pretend of not knowing there was something more they could share.

 

She remembered that particular moment, where the sky was orange and she had visited the bus stop again. Yeri had a bit of an argument with her father, scowling at a memory of a toxic lecture:

 

“Stay away from that friend of yours – that ‘Joy’ girl.”

 

“Why?!”

 

“Because she’s drilling stupid things into your head and you’re actually listening to her.”

 

Yeri never once considered the things Joy told her to be stupid.

 

They had simply gone into the topic of gay marriages being allowed abroad – that they were now able to make vows with people of the same gender; promise an everlasting forever just like their straighter counterparts.

 

Joy had opened that window, having mentioned her current crush being a girl with monolid eyes (it sounded really cute – with the way Joy kept stuttering her name, trying to act all tough like her crush didn’t bother her that much. Pfft, Joy wasn’t fooling anyone).

 

But the news was so interesting that Yeri couldn’t help but bring it up at home (not even her large group of friends mentioned anything like that at all – she wondered if they knew; was it even something new? Or had it been approved long ago and she just wasn’t aware?).

 

Her father was less than pleased (and that had been putting it lightly), her blood having rippled with anger that she couldn’t handle looking at him anymore and had stormed out to settle the chaos in her head.

 

She wasn’t surprised to see Joohyun waiting at the bus stop again.

 

“Bad day?” The older girl had asked, patting the space beside her, ushering Yeri to take a seat.

 

Yeri hadn’t bothered telling her much of the details. She wasn’t sure if Joohyun would react the same way – as violent as her father, or if she was as open as Joy. She didn’t take the risk.

 

“Yup,” she replied simply, keeping hush as Joohyun hummed her acknowledgement, not probing any further.  

 

But maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding how she felt like Yeri previously thought, remembering how Joohyun had nudged her by the elbow, her voice cradling warmth like it carried it between the seams.

 

"Call me," Yeri looked up, her fingers pausing their rhythmic motion of picking at her cellphone the moment Joohyun snatched it away. "Whenever you need me. Whenever you're thinking of me – and even when you're not.” She almost blanched at the thought as Joohyun sent her a smirk her way; her eyes sprinkled with mirth, brows teasing. “Whenever you're scared, or feel alone, or happy, or bored, or angry. Even when you just want someone to listen, or when you just want to hear my voice – call me."

 

Yeri’s eyes had widened as Joohyun punched in her number (she was surprised Joohyun even knew how to navigate through it considering she had no idea how to work out personal messages online – Yeri had to teach her).  

 

The gesture was sweet; Yeri had no clue what to say. She didn’t really get a chance to either as Joohyun’s bus rolled in, the older girl passing her phone back with a gaze that carried more words than Joohyun would ever say (her suggestion of calling her was the longest she had ever heard her speak at once).

 

Yeri’s grateful ‘thank you,’ only left her lips once Joohyun disappeared into the crowded bus, watching her fade against the distance.

 

When she no longer felt as bitter towards her father, pretending she wasn’t questioning the blueprint of a white picket fence that she had learned to live by, Yeri called Joohyun that same night – and every night thereafter.

 

Sometimes she wondered if it was okay to just stay this way – to have best of both beauties where friendship mattered just as much as that promise for more.

 

But during wisps of quiet where only their footsteps echoed into their ears, (along with this current silver rain – plop plop plop) Yeri would look at Joohyun. She would catch cloudy hues of brown eyes; how they’d look just a tiny bit sadder, a little more lost – a little more insecure.

 

Yeri would be reminded that Joohyun’s patience had limits, too.

 

When Yeri unclasped Joohyun’s arm around her head, freeing herself of the older girl’s affectionate headlock so she could latch onto it instead, Yeri thought it was okay to be brave for once.

 

And what better moment to take her first step than to go for a leap her heart's been yearning to try since the moment Joohyun told her she hadn’t climbed out of a well yet?

 

Without the tremor normally flickering through her veins, her arms looped around Joohyun's shoulders, hands reaching up for the messy ponytail tied on the back of her head.

 

Yeri's eyes flitted to Joohyun's for that split second she took to have her fingers clasp the hair tie, watched how Joohyun's gaze fluttered to her lips and felt a smile curl at the corners as she untangled ebony locks from its circle string cage.

 

Maybe it was in the way Yeri combed her fingers through silky onyx as it cascaded across her hands, flowing down in waves as she looped the hair tie around her wrist (she'll give it back later), Yeri's eyes never once leaving Joohyun's, that made Joohyun's breath hitch; the woman's chest visibly rising up to a pause.

 

Unable to resist how their lips left fleeting caresses from their proximity, teasing of what could be, Yeri filled the gap with a kiss that carried her three month confession, attempting to bring back the oxygen into Joohyun's lungs with words resembling too close to an 'I love you'.

 

Yeri never imagined her first kiss would be as romantic as a cliché of having it under an umbrella in the pouring rain of a sweltering summer heat in the middle of August. But then again, it wasn't entirely strict to a black and white script, because here she was – with another girl.

 

And Yeri wouldn't have it any other way.

 

“… I should’ve made you wear that red lipstick,” Yeri mumbled as soon as they allowed the smallest gap to fill the space between them; her lips brushing syllables against Joohyun’s mouth.

 

“Well, you are, aren’t you?” Joohyun chuckled, delight coloring her eyes (Yeri had never seen this much happiness in her before – it warmed her), readjusting her hold on her umbrella. “I’ll probably be wearing it too, at this rate.”

 

Yeri grinned, pulling her in, whispering her heart against tender lips.

 

“… Oldie.”

 

Joohyun was about to protest – but Yeri pressed their mouths together, grinned at her squeak before pulling back again.

 

“Call me Yerim,”

 

“’Yerim’?”

 

“My parents call me that when they’re being serious,” Yeri muttered against her lips, brushing her fingers through Joohyun’s silky locks, “I want you to always be serious with me.” She whispered desperately (she didn’t know why she was pleading – just that she was), her arms tightening around Joohyun’s neck.

 

Joohyun’s kiss carried her name, her mumbled approval “Yerim,” quaking warmth against her lips.

 

Yeri loved it.

 

-

 

She didn’t think anything scared Joohyun. She didn’t look the type.

 

But it turned out that the older girl was scared of a lot of things – and that was a lot. It didn’t have to look particularly frightening; it just had to happen and once it did, Joohyun would jolt like she was strapped in an electric chair.

 

Yeri had found it fun to tease the taller girl, make it a bit of a habit to give her jump scares, whether it was a typical “Boo!” to an innocent “Hi!”

 

Joohyun never really minded once the initial shock was gone – she would play pranks in return to get back at her. Yeri loved it.

 

But when Joohyun’s apartment had a simple fire drill and Yeri was waiting for Joohyun to make her way out of the building (Yeri had been to the grocery store several houses down, Joohyun having sent her out on an errand), she began to worry when the alarm finished ringing and Joohyun never made it out.

 

She hurried up the stairs to her room, twisting the knob (Yeri was glad Joohyun had given her a key), and immediately went scavenging for the older girl.

 

“Unnie?!” Yeri couldn’t hide the fear lodged up ; her lungs squeezing tightly for air she knew wouldn’t come unless Joohyun was okay. “Unnie, where are you?!”

 

Her panic only increased at the silence that still loomed over the apartment, fear crippling her legs at the fact that there was no sound – Joohyun was supposed to be just folding laundry.

 

Yeri spotted the piles of neatly stacked t-shirts loitering the sofa – but there was still no sign of Joohyun.

 

She dashed for Joohyun’s room, then into her roommate’s – nothing.

 

Yeri wanted to scream, frustration burning along her limbs, her thoughts whirling away at images of what could’ve went wrong. Maybe Joohyun just left to fetch something?

 

She wanted to think it was true; that the older girl probably forgot to tell her (Joohyun was sort of a forgetful person too), until she noted the tiny gap of the bathroom door, slightly left ajar.

 

Hesitantly, Yeri pushed it open, eyes widening at the sight of Joohyun curled against the corner of the bathroom, hands covering her ears like she was trying to block out everything, her face buried against her knees.

 

Yeri knelt down to sit beside her, patting a gentle palm across Joohyun’s shoulder.

 

“… Unnie?” She whispered, her panicked heart easing fear away from as Joohyun looked up.

 

“Y-Yerim?” She croaked out, as if she wasn’t expecting to see her.

 

Yeri could only smile, immediately wrapping Joohyun into her arms, and remembered how relieved she felt to know the older girl was okay.

 

She had learned then that Joohyun was afraid of loud noises – that as soon as the fire alarm went off, Joohyun had looked for a spot where the sound was quietest.

 

Yeri had scolded her for it – she even told her that if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was merely a simple fire drill – that there wasn’t an actual fire, then she would’ve likely burned to death.

 

Joohyun had a small disarming smile before squeezing Yeri’s nose with tender fingers.

 

“That’s why you’re here, right?” She said, affection spilling past her lips that Yeri felt warmth ignite as soon as it slipped into her ears and cradled her heart. “So I can count on you,”

 

Yeri remembered kissing her then, her “Yes, always,” slipping between their lips to draw against Joohyun’s mouth, hoping her promise made it to Joohyun’s heart too.

 

-

 

The fact that they worked – that they melded colors together from hot to cold and still managed to work despite their age difference burdened Yeri more than her broken promises.

 

They didn’t last as long as Yeri wanted them to, or maybe a forever was just asking too much.

 

The first few months were amazing; like a distant dream became more than that in warmth of gentle arms around her during sleepovers at Joohyun’s apartment (the older girl had gotten kicked out of her home because of who she was – who they were), to coffee kisses Joohyun learned to love despite her contempt for the drink itself.

 

Yeri had tried to stop her habit of running on caffeine, but she was already reliant on it to stay on top of things; so she attempted to chew gum after each cup.

 

It didn’t work out either – not because she didn’t want to, but because Joohyun insisted that she could handle a bit of the dreaded coffee taste if it meant tasting Yeri a few seconds later (the older girl had compared her to a candy that had a sweeter flavor once the initial horror was out of the way).

 

Yeri still remembered how she slapped Joohyun on the arm, chiding her for saying something so dirty, despite being inwardly ecstatic at the thought of Joohyun adjusting just for her. She was getting spoiled.

 

“You make bitter coffee taste sweet,” Yeri had told her then, swooning at Joohyun’s attempt to endure what she abhorred so much.

 

Joohyun had mocked a grimace, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. Yeri rolled her eyes, before coming up with an idea of her own – her way of helping Joohyun out too.

 

"How about this unnie; you smoke to forget things right?" The younger girl recalled their conversation one August night, how she had probed the older girl as to why she puffed out cigarettes. "Replace the smoking by thinking of me, okay?" Yeri suggested then, wanting to play as an anchor for a woman who acted as hers. "Could you do that for me? Please?"

 

And Joohyun had listened.

 

It had worked for her (it took time of course, but Joohyun had patience and Yeri learned to acquire such precious virtue too) and Yeri was proud.

 

She wanted Joohyun to live a long and happy life – one where toxin no longer corroded at her lungs, life bleeding out through clouds of smoke. So when Joohyun finally managed to no longer need a pack of cigarettes to function, her half empty box left untouched for the remainder of their time together inside a drawer of Joohyun’s kitchen, Yeri would kiss her as a reward for every moment Joohyun spent lingering at the counter pondering on whether she should take in poison again and leaving it closed.

 

Yeri’s own bundle of problems – school grades, peer pressure, family expectations – they didn’t burden her as much anymore. Not when Joohyun kept her company, having guided her with a voice of blue calm and red compassionate hands.

 

Discord no longer existed when Joohyun played as her hope for more than what was in a box filled with maps of an ideal world where they weren’t allowed to stare longer than two girls would, or hug longer than two friends should.

 

“… ‘Irene’ unnie,” Yeri had attempted the nickname with untrained lips, sounding out the two syllables as it rolled off her tongue.

 

Joohyun had on that cute lost look again, “Why ‘Irene’?”

 

Yeri had taken a class in Greek mythology, remembering one particular goddess that she knew Joohyun embodied a bit too well.

 

“Because unnie, you bring me peace.”

 

But she couldn’t say the same for herself.

 

Yeri didn’t know how long it was going on for; just that it was happening – and without her knowledge.

 

During their times together at Joohyun’s apartment (Yeri kept their relationship a secret from her parents; Joohyun’s was a learning example of how they’d likely react – lots of screaming and a step out the door), Yeri would catch a glimpse of Joohyun wincing at mundane things; whether it was lifting a glass of water, to getting up from her seat.

 

Yeri had probed her about it – how Joohyun looked more tired, getting weaker the more times they spent together. Joohyun had typically shrugged her off, said it was nothing – that her classes were just giving her a hard time, that “It’s normal – don’t worry about it,” but Yeri always did.

 

Who would get a sore wrist and a limping leg from lectures that required students to just follow along with a paper and pen?

 

Joohyun tried to keep shut – hide away bruises that marred her skin beneath long sleeved sweaters and pants that managed to fool anyone else but Yeri.

 

It took a fast hand and a hard grip on Joohyun’s wrist to know the extent of just how much damage Joohyun kept beneath familiar warm smiles and eyes that still held promises for her.

 

Joohyun’s yelp fueled wrath inside Yeri’s chest, swallowing her in a fire of contempt for anyone who laid their hands on the older girl. She had asked her who it was – if it was by one person, or by a group; and why they would do such a thing.

 

Joohyun had attempted to dispel her anger by saying it was all just a silly accident – but Yeri knew better.

 

She just didn’t think she’d get her answer from her father as soon as she got home, having felt worried for leaving Joohyun to tend to herself at her apartment (her roommate was unreliable; always out partying).

 

“Were you just out with Joohyun?” He asked as he sipped from his cup of black coffee, newspaper in hand.

 

Yeri hadn’t thought much of it at first.

 

“Yeah,” she said, reaching up at the cupboard, motioning to make her own cup of her favorite drink.

 

He scoffed, “She always was a bit stubborn.”

 

Yeri had managed to stop her favorite squirtle cup from crashing onto the floor, settling it back into the safety of the cupboard, her fingers shaking from a tremor rising in her chest.

 

“… What?” Was all Yeri could muster, turning slowly to see her father flip a page of his newspaper.

 

“You heard me.” He said simply and Yeri started seeing hues of red.

 

“… What. Did. You. Do?!” She growled slowly, anger quaking against the walls of , taking gradual steps towards a man who didn’t seem bothered at all.

 

“I paid girls her age to teach her of what life would be like if she continued frolicking with my daughter.” He answered with no hint of an apology between his perfect straight teeth.

 

Yeri was glad her mother and two sisters weren’t home to hear her squander the tiny threads of respect she had left for her father (they always had a more fragile relationship – he wanted her to be academically top tier; she simply wasn’t).

 

“And you still have the nerve to keep her as your student?” Yeri circled the kitchen table to tower over him, puffing her chest, crossing her arms.

 

“Because she’s diligent. And it isn’t like she knows it’s my doing, either.”

 

Yeri’s fists shook against her arms, clenching fingers against poor limbs, digging nails through her purple sweater (it was Joohyun’s favorite – given by the older girl as a keepsake for times where Yeri didn’t want to feel alone).

 

“Then I’ll tell her,”

 

“And risk her whole career when I only need to put in a ‘good’ word or two as her reference?” He retorted quickly, his brow arching sharply.

 

Yeri knew there was no point – he was always right, anyway.

 

She attempted to let her frustration fizzle out between the stuttered breaths scratching at ; attempted to wrench out the feeling of hate bubbling against her stomach, breathing slowly so she wouldn’t wring his neck and squeeze his air pipe – she can’t; he’s her father.

 

“Then what do you want,” her words crunched into a growl between gnashed teeth, as if to surrender (and for Joohyun, she was). “To get you to stop. What will it take?”

 

He looked pleased with her plea – looking happy to see her beg.

 

She didn’t need a perfect score on any of her exams to know what he wanted from her (it wasn’t like she scored a 1 with a double 0 during the 16 years of her life, anyway).

 

With a mind in discord of pictures with Joohyun – how her hair would usually be up (she had an inkling feeling it had an additional reason for staying tied up now – much to Yeri’s delight) and Yeri would get to untangle black tresses with her fingers after a long day from school in the warmth of Joohyun’s apartment, Yeri didn’t want to let go.

 

“Just end it with her.”

 

But she did.

 

“Okay.”

 

Yeri went right back to playing by the rulebook – only if it meant she could give Joohyun peace like the older girl did (still does) for her.  

 

But not without curling up against her pillow in the safe haven of her bedroom, pressing the ‘call’ button and listening to it ring until Joohyun’s signature rasp soothed her pounding heart beating against her eardrums with a simple “Yerim?” – pretending like she wasn’t going to have this be their last phone call together.

 

Yeri made memorizing each lilt of her voice (how her tone rose or lowered, to the way Joohyun’s syllables strung husky chords like a clean E minor) the one test she wanted to have perfectly scored into her memory; marred in bright seductive red of the lipstick Yeri would have Joohyun wear – applying the color against her lips with her own.

 

She spent that night listening to Joohyun’s voice, even when the older girl fell fast asleep and only the wisps of her soft breaths echoed through.

 

Yeri waited until Joohyun’s cellphone clicked their call shut, knowing her battery life would wear out eventually even when Yeri kept her own charger plugged in (wanting to listen more – hear Joohyun more).

 

It was time.

 

-

 

Yeri didn’t know how to make it hurt less.

 

She wanted to give Joohyun a clear slate – make it transparent that they wouldn’t work out; that they couldn’t work out anymore. Yeri had it worded well enough in her head, but the syllables didn’t want to come out.

 

Especially not when Joohyun was standing right in front of her, smiling down at her and waiting for her response to her simple question.

 

“Where are you going?” Joohyun had asked, curiosity coloring her eyes but ignorance blinded her completely – not knowing that Yeri wasn’t planning on coming back.

 

Yeri adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, unable to look Joohyun in the eyes throughout their time together (but sometimes they were unavoidable – especially when she wanted her lips) – having been busy imprinting the feel of Joohyun’s soft ebony tresses between her fingers, syncing the memory into her skin when she had Joohyun rest her head on her lap just moments before.

 

She wanted to keep every bit of Joohyun: from her fiery touches to her gentle kisses, wanting Joohyun’s warmth to cradle her forever (Yeri left for Joohyun’s apartment the next day, wanting to feel everything).

 

But it didn’t feel enough – she didn’t kiss her enough, feel her enough, love her enough.

 

“I’ll be right back,” the lie spilled between reluctant teeth, “Could you wait for me?”

 

Stupid. So, so, stupid.

 

Joohyun smiled, “I will,” she said like it was a vow and Yeri wished she was brave enough to tell her the truth.

 

But she wasn’t.

 

So Yeri took to walking away, bidding Joohyun one goodbye and avoided her eyes because she knew Joohyun would still look at her with a promise of an ‘I love you’.

 

Yeri never went back.

 

-

 

Sometimes, during moments where Yeri would be sitting in her room, flitting through her contact list and spotting Joohyun’s name still there (along with three hearts and a smiley face), Yeri wondered how she was doing.

 

If Joohyun was okay, with no one hurting her anymore and no bruises to scar her skin, then Yeri figured she would be okay too. Eventually.

 

“I want you to break this silly phase of yours off. Lesbians are not tolerated in my household.” Her father had rolled up his newspaper then, curling it under his arm as he stood to put his cup away into the sink that same night he told her to end everything.

 

Yeri had nodded, pretending it didn’t hurt to breathe.

 

“Then can I switch schools? So she can’t find me,” she whispered out, her mind already whirring away with ghost touches of Joohyun’s lips.

 

“That’s fine. I won’t mention you to her, either.”

 

It was cruel.

 

But Yeri was already cut mute the second her father knew they were more than just two girls being friends (how he had figured it out, Yeri didn’t ask – it didn’t matter anymore).

 

“… Fine.”

 

There were times when the seasons flitted by and snow crunched beneath her black boots (or those of dead orange leaves), when Yeri would spot Joohyun walking around the neighborhood.

 

She looked okay (she no longer limped; her wrist looking to be just as good as new).

 

She seemed to have changed a bit too, with the cup of coffee she always appeared to have glued in her hand (since when did she start drinking what she hated?).

 

Joohyun’s hair still remained the familiar shade of black onyx, shimmering against falling white snow, and Yeri had instances where she had to resist the feral urge to just go to her and flutter her fingers against such silk.

 

Yeri never would, settling to disappear around a corner, making sure their paths didn’t cross. It was fine to be like this – pretending like she didn’t just see her heart several steps away.

 

Joohyun was okay; that was all that mattered.

 

That was good.

 

But even when a year already passed by and new stores were opening up – especially that one filled with children building teddy bears, a giant mascot loitering by the entrance, Yeri was still waiting for her turn – waiting for the time where she could say she was okay too.

 

She kept waiting.

 

-

 

Yeri wasn’t prepared to see Joohyun up close, wearing a long sleeved burgundy turtleneck, her hair gracing over the slopes of her shoulders at a 4-membered table with her close friend Joy.

 

“… Irene unnie…?” Yeri had tried not to show she was trembling, faking a smile as soon as the sight settled into her head that, Yes, it’s unnie – it’s really unnie.

 

She remembered the giant mentioning something about a ‘group date’, and at first Yeri had congratulated her – patting her on the back at the chance she finally had with her monolid crush.

 

“… Yerim,” Yeri hated how Joohyun’s voice still strung strings in her chest; lifting up bandages she had poorly wrapped herself in with memories as healing keepsakes.

 

She was still happy for Joy.

 

But as she scribbled down their orders, writing down ‘3 chickens’ knowing well enough that Joohyun didn’t need one, Yeri didn’t feel as happy anymore; taking note of the stranger seated beside her, looking at Joohyun like she mattered more than anyone else in the room.

 

Yeri knew that look. She had that look for Joohyun, too (she still does – she’s still waiting for that moment where she could say she’s okay).

 

“I’ll be back with your orders soon,” she had hurried off, pretending she wasn’t running away and locked herself in the staff room, her fist clenching against the poor paper that still had their orders.

 

Yeri wasn’t sure what she was going to say (she knew Joohyun would be looking for an explanation – and she deserved one); she never prepared some grand speech to provide her a reason as to why they didn’t work out. She thought she wouldn’t bump into her again, but there were certainly pros and cons when working at a public restaurant.

 

It was only when she had given them their meals, watched the clock tick by in the staff room, and peeked out of the kitchen door to see Joohyun and her… partner (were they together?) still lingering in the restaurant – Joy having already left with her monolid date, that Yeri knew she couldn’t run anymore.

 

So Yeri didn’t.

 

-

 

She didn't want to be brave if it meant putting Joohyun through ridicule and shame.

 

But maybe that was bravery in itself too. Or so Yeri tried to convince herself.

 

Joohyun’s driving her home again after their impromptu talk earlier in the afternoon (Yeri replaced Joy who scurried away, “Heading to work now, so see you two later,”). Yeri didn’t want this to become routine – she didn’t want to get used to having Joohyun in her life again.

 

She was just getting used to having it without her.

 

“You have your hair tied up again,” Yeri mutters beneath her breath, attempting to wash away the memories still clouding her head with the snow trickling along a navy sky.

 

Joohyun’s sheepish stutters tug at her chest painfully.

 

“Oh, I just – I just felt like it, today. I don’t… I don’t usually tie it anymore.”

 

Yeri wants to ask why but she sort of knows the answer already (she’s not there to brush her fingers through them).

 

They keep mute after under the hum of Joohyun’s car, listening to the tires bumping against a rocky road, until Joohyun pulls up by the curb of her house.

 

She attempts to get out quickly, already closing the door behind her and was about to unlatch the gate when Joohyun’s call reminds her of phantom memories.

 

“I still haven’t climbed out of a well, yet.”

 

Yeri knows the silly reference – remembers the rain and how she kept whacking Joohyun with her bag until she finally realized it wasn’t the Grudge – and that Joohyun had mistaken her fear for a different character instead.

 

She tries not to let her tears reach her voice.

 

“It was the Grudge that I was scared of,” Yeri says quietly, laughing wryly as she turns around just to see Joohyun’s already making her steps towards her.

 

“… I know,” Joohyun’s murmur is faint against the snow squishing beneath her boots, “You’re still using the same shade of red, aren’t you?” She asks quietly, her gaze flitting to her lips.

 

“… Yes,” Yeri quips gently, meekly, not knowing where this was going.

 

Her breath hitches at Joohyun’s proximity, her eyes as clear as break of day – her hair still blaringly tied up into a ponytail and Yeri’s reminded that she could just unlatch it and run her fingers through them again.

 

“Why…?” Joohyun’s whisper is hot against her lips, as if pleading, Yeri’s knees growing weak at every fleeting touch of her heat.

 

Yeri struggles to resist the urge to loop her arms around Joohyun’s shoulders, to untangle black tresses tied between a circle string – it’s hard.

 

Because I still love you.

 

She doesn’t know what Joohyun’s doing – doesn’t know why she’s bringing up their past like they could go through it all together again. Yeri won’t let it, not when she knows Joohyun still works with him; knows that he could still hurt her.

 

Yeri won’t let him.

 

Her hands press against Joohyun’s shoulders, gently pushing her back so they’re not breathing the same air again (he might be home – Yeri doesn’t want this to last longer than necessary).

 

“It’s cold out, unnie.” Yeri says instead, steels the nerves trembling against her fingers. “Just let me go.”

 

She shrugs off the hurt she sees in pools of auburn, spinning back to unclasp the lock on the gate, pushing it open. Yeri hopes her father hasn’t seen them.

 

Her steps falter at the grip around her skin.

 

“You don’t get to leave again,” Joohyun mutters quietly, her warmth circling Yeri’s wrist, chastising. “Not without my goodbye.”

 

Joohyun had no walls when it came to Yerim.

 

Yeri should feel honored, but not when Joohyun sounds so broken, so tired, so open – so not okay (she had read her wrong – so wrong).

 

She waits for her goodbye.

 

"Call me," Yeri looks up, blinking away memory hazes of sweet kisses under the summer rain at Joohyun's voice. "Whenever you need me. Whenever you're thinking of me – and even when you're not.” The familiarity of Joohyun’s words trigger waves of her pounding heart beating against her ribcage. “Whenever you're scared, or feel alone, or happy, or bored, or angry. Even when you just want someone to listen or when you just want to hear my voice – call me."

 

Yeri finds it amazing how Joohyun manages to make what was once her “Hello,” become her “Goodbye,”

 

She still hates how it’s such a Joohyun thing to do, beating around the bush (but Yeri knew they both weren’t the type to say how they felt out loud).

 

"Okay," Yeri responds simply, playing by the book of pretending Joohyun did not just say she still loves her (even with a farewell, Joohyun’s still making promises to her).

 

They share one more smile – recognizes Joohyun's signature small curve of her lips, the vows still written in her eyes, before Yeri turns around; have her back be the last thing Joohyun sees of her. Again.

 

This time it feels final.

 

Like their storybook has finally come to an end (she never wanted it to end though, never), as she closes the gate, waves her farewell as Joohyun disappears into her car.

 

Feeling courage combust against her chest (Yeri doesn’t know what she’s doing – why she’s doing it; just that she needs to), Yeri yanks her mobile out of her pocket, taps Joohyun’s name still listed on her speed dial, and listens to it ring as Joohyun’s car pulls out onto the streets.

 

Joohyun’s raspy voice still soothes the pounding tremor in her heart, easing the tension in her fingers as she cradles it close to her ear.

 

“Yerim?”

 

Yeri doesn’t want Joohyun to crash – she shouldn’t even have answered the phone considering it was illegal. And why was she even blaming the older girl when she was the one who called in the first place? I’m such a mess,

 

She still has Joohyun’s voice memorized.

 

“I was just checking to see if I still had the right number,” Yeri quips, masking the lie with ease of an impromptu script.

 

Joohyun laughs and somehow, somewhere during her attempt to tell the older girl that there was nothing more to be said than that (Joohyun kept insisting there was), Yeri convinces her to leave the phone on, have it on speaker as she drives (“So you don’t crash, unnie.” “Okay, okay.”).

 

Yeri settles her back against her house’s metal railing, using this familiar moment of listening to Joohyun’s voice through her phone to etch each husky lilt of her tone deeper into her storybook memory – she didn’t want it to fade completely (because it almost did).

 

She’s the one who clicks her phone shut this time, once Joohyun tells her she’s made it home – hears Joohyun’s reluctant “Goodbye,” and returning it with her own, a smile curling against shaky red lips, tears finally spilling to draw against her cheeks (which Yeri knows Joohyun can’t see – she’s grateful for that).

 

Yeri didn’t want Joohyun to leave without hearing her goodbye (actually hearing it – not Joohyun’s silly romantic roundabout version with “Call me,” – that oldie…).  

 

She recalls her conversation with her father the first time she had been driven home by Joohyun since a year ago, faintly remembering how Wendy had been confused at her rejection for the passenger seat (Yeri just didn’t want to have everything feel like it was normal again – because it wasn’t).

 

“Was that Joohyun?” Yeri had pretended not to look startled as she peeled off her boots, looking at anywhere else but him.

 

“… Of course not,”

 

He had hummed his approval, patting her back.

 

“Good. Wouldn’t want to add in ‘misconduct’ when I’m writing her weekly evaluation now, would we?”

 

She nodded weakly, allowing her muted steps to lead her to her room.

 

Yeri cries, letting her knees hit the snowy cushion and chokes out everything she has bottled up in the past year since she’s been waiting to feel ‘okay’ again, her spontaneous courage already long dried.

 

Her lungs burn; so does , her eyes, her chest; but it feels good to let it all out – it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

 

Unnie will be okay, I’ll be okay – we’ll both be okay, Yeri thinks – hopes.

 

They’ll be okay.

 

-

 

Irene walks in to a seemingly chirpy Seungwan and a stiff Seulgi, momentarily forgetting that she had just broken up with Yerim (but weren’t they already long gone a year ago?) – her cellphone clicking shut.

 

“J-Joohyun, welcome back!” Seungwan says, bouncing towards her as Irene closed the door behind her.

 

Everything went by relatively quickly, letting Seungwan know of her day as she hangs her jacket on the rack. (“Joy took back her vortex comment,” “Is that a good thing?” “She said it was too much of a compliment.” “Oh.”)

 

Nodding gently as Seungwan pointed towards a takeout meant just for her, Irene keeps Seulgi within her peripheral; watches her stand from the couch – oddly quiet, her lips drawn into a straight line.

 

Flurries of words exchange between the two friends – the air crackling with a tension Irene was slightly familiar with, standing aside as Seulgi reached for the doorknob, motioning to leave.

 

“What happened to lesson 1?”

 

“It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore.”

 

Irene feels lost, nodding silently as Seulgi passes her a tiny smile, her “See you,” so quiet she wonders if she misheard – it doesn’t help when the door clicks shut and Seungwan looks like she wants to cry.

 

She contemplates on whether she should follow Seulgi out and scold her for whatever this is (ponders why it looks like she just walked in to a love story that didn’t have a happy ending), or stay close to Seungwan even when she looks like she doesn’t want her company.

 

“Sorry – um, you should eat.” Seungwan mutters, wiping her sleeves against her eyes, drying loose tears. “I’ll just… I’m heading to bed.”

 

Irene watches her carefully, making up her mind – knowing now that she should stay (she carries memories of Yerim just moments before into a safe haven in the corner of her mind, storing it away for later).

 

Seungwan is priority.

 

“Okay,” Irene murmurs gently, trailing behind Seungwan instead of looking for food because Seungwan doesn’t look steady on her feet.

 

She attempts to reach for her elbow, her fingertips brushing soft cotton until it’s shoved away, Seungwan’s arm lashing out that it startles Irene.

 

“Don’t.” Seungwan’s voice carries winter like it has frozen over , “… Don’t, it’s – I’m fine.”

 

Irene pretends her fingers don’t hurt from Seungwan’s instinctive reaction to her touch, her stubbornness running the gears through her limbs, refusing to step away because Seungwan’s lying to her with such a cliché “I’m fine.”

 

She doesn’t really listen to Seungwan’s plead, keeping close, her hand reaching out to hover just behind Seungwan’s back – complying with her request halfway by maintaining a gap between her palm and Seungwan’s sweater.

 

“… I’m not going to play that song for you.” Seungwan’s words impale a delicate chord somewhere along the ridges in Irene’s chest, pooling confusion and hurt at the memory of Seungwan having been happy at the idea to show her, before.

 

“Will you play it again for me when we’re both home tonight?”

 

Irene flushed at Seungwan’s quick kiss.

 

“Of course!” Seungwan chirped, before her face began to burn a similar shade of red.

 

“Okay,” Irene says again, wondering if that’s all she could say – couldn’t she give more than just one word?

 

When Irene sees her roommate’s shoulders begin to quake, Seungwan’s steps pausing just in the middle of the living room, Irene’s glad she’s close enough to catch her drop to her knees, her sobs wracking her tiny form.

 

Irene’s nose settles into the back of Seungwan’s head, her roommate’s long chestnut hair tickling against her collarbone (she recognizes the peach shampoo – the same sweet aroma as her own because Seungwan had asked her if they could share it; that it smelled really nice and made her hair softer) her grip firm around Seungwan’s stomach.

 

Seungwan spinning around so her arms looped around Irene’s shoulders surprised her, having expected to be hit again – having instinctively closed her eyes before peeking to see Seungwan wasn’t going to, her lips warm against Irene’s neck. She readjusts her hold so her fingers clasp around Seungwan’s back instead.

 

Irene doesn’t understand what went wrong (what had happened between Seulgi and her roommate) but as she cradles Seungwan close, holds her head against her shoulder, lets Seungwan’s tears seep through her sweater and into her skin – Irene doesn’t need to.

 

Seungwan just needs someone.

 

It takes time for Irene to convince Seungwan to go to bed, half-carrying her into her room, plopping her gently against her blue sheets (Seungwan has yet to let go, her grip keeping firm on her shirt).

 

She lies down beside her, not wanting to leave her alone, as Seungwan huddles closer until their sweaters mesh colors of blue and maroon, clutching against cotton and polyester, her hands balling into fists at Irene’s back.

 

The silent trickle of tears don’t stop even when Irene’s raising the blanket and the taller girl’s hand is massaging gentle fingers against the back of Seungwan’s head, soft brown tresses flitting between Irene’s skin.

 

Her sobs have at least dissipated, her whimpers pressing heat against Irene’s neck. Normally Irene would have flushed at the touch, how Seungwan’s lips are caressing fragile skin, but she doesn’t because Seungwan’s sprinkles of fleeting kisses are ghost breaths of pain with tears as her only way of coping.

 

“… I-I wish I could remember,” Seungwan’s whisper tickles her neck, Irene’s ears perking up at her voice. “I – I want to say I do, but it’s… it’s all just a mess – why can’t I…” She hiccups, curling into Irene. “… Why can’t I just be ‘Wendy’ and not ‘Seungwan’ instead…?”

 

Irene doesn’t interrupt, keeping mute as Seungwan’s breaths steady to a simpler rhythm moments later, as if her croaked out secret had helped heal a personal turmoil – slumber finally easing the tension away from Seungwan’s crunched expression.

 

She brushes off the streaks left behind against her roommate’s cheeks before curving her arms tighter around her, tucking Seungwan’s head beneath her chin.

 

Irene still doesn’t know what happened – just that something did; somewhere between Seungwan’s happy kiss to her cheek from mentioning a song to Seulgi’s slumped shoulders like the world crashed upon them.

 

Massaging slim fingers against Seungwan’s hair, Irene hopes Seungwan will at least get to dream of things that don’t scare her, shutting her eyes – wanting to wake up to a Seungwan who doesn’t scare her.

 

Irene sleeps to the smell of warm peach and wonders how Seungwan could wish to be only half of herself.

 

“People don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’, so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead.”

 

If Seungwan wanted to be Wendy, then what about her?

 

“I don’t mind the sound of Seungwan.”

 

-

 

AN:

 

… I truthfully didn’t expect Yerene’s story to be as lengthy as it was; but as a result, the fluff I promised to a select few has been pushed to the next chapter (and for that I’m very very sorry). I wanted to include the fluff in this same update, but it would have made the entire chapter look like it didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. In other words, this chapter would’ve looked like it was PMSing.

 

The amount of content written in this chapter is also rather heavy so I didn’t want readers to feel overwhelmed and miss important details sprinkled about in this update.

 

On another note, I was truly (still am) very surprised at the responses for last chapter; I have heard all of your heartfelt, pain-filled, battle cries – whether it be within the comments below or over on twitter (I noticed you too, dear YouTube commenter; I like listening back to Seuldy’s ‘Realize’ too). You have probably seen me around liking and/or re-tweeting (if I managed to find you) and that is to show you of my appreciation.

 

Thank you. I tried to be as in depth and detailed as possible in my replies to your comments below as well to show that I truly do appreciate everything.

 

… I don’t normally reveal how I feel emotionally but I will say this: if you readers have cried over this – and even if you didn’t, just know that I cried hearing all of you too. You don’t know how much this all means to me.

 

Hope you all have enjoyed this update – until next time.