Joy has a list of things she knows aren't worth her time.

 

Seulgi is one of them.

 

"Are you sure you can handle this, unnie?"

 

Joy watches with flashes of doubt coloring her lips, a frown across . Anxiety rolls up her sleeves from the way she grabs onto Joohyun's shoulders to observe how the older girl loops the string through the needle.

 

"It can't be that bad, right?" Joohyun looks fine so far, piercing through the blue dress.

 

Her yelp gives her away, flinching back to stare at the puncture wound on her hand.

 

Joy grimaces at the bubble of blood rising at the tip of Joohyun's opposite finger.

 

"Seriously unnie, this is a terrible idea." She scolds the older girl as she scavenges for the first aid kit. "Are you sure you'll be fine without my supervision?"

 

She can hear Joohyun's scoff all the way from the bathroom, "I'm not a child," plucking the box out of the bottom cabinet and trudging back just to find another finger stabbed through.

 

The noise leaving is a mixture of amused laughter and bewildered astonishment, clucking her tongue as she yanks Joohyun's injured hand to stare at the tiny pools of red against pale white.

 

"I leave you for a few seconds and you're already trying to kill yourself." Joohyun grunts, attempting to wrench back her captive hand but Joy keeps it close. "Hold still so you won't bleed to death, okay?"

 

Joy knows she's exaggerating, grinning impishly at Joohyun's scowl.

 

"But it's not even that bad—"

 

"Let's just cover them up so you hopefully won't be puncturing the same place twice."

 

Joohyun huffs, indignant, and Joy is reminded of how much the older girl yo-yo's back and forth between overprotective guardian and careless infant.

 

Once she wraps the two bandages over wounded fingers, kissing them playfully and guffawing at Joohyun's violent slap to her back, Joy leaves the first aid kit atop the table and motions towards the door.

 

"Make sure to follow the instructions thoroughly, okay?" Joy reminds her, glancing at the manual for dummies beside her, a teasing lilt drawing along the corners of her lips.

 

She pokes at Joohyun's soft cheek, feeling heat cradle the tip of her finger, and dodges her swatting hand.

 

Joy is laughing away, letting her heart sing for this feather light moment until she shuts the door behind her along with that brief peaceful reprieve.

 

She snuggles her nose against her white striped green scarf, humming to a silent tune and hoping her time with Joohyun is enough to erase the sketch mark still haunting her in every dream. 

 

She remembers how it all started – how she had her precious freedom until it was suddenly snapped away from her.

 

Joy thinks back to that Autumn two years ago, shoving through the double doors of Joohyun's apartment and wanting the winter cold to keep her company.

 

She's sick of how Seulgi is her only nightmare.

 

-

 

Click.

 

Great, Joy thought, admiring her capture once the image drew clearer, cradling her Polaroid carefully between her fingers.

 

It was a picture of October, leaves dangling from a skinny arching branch above a shimmering lake carrying its green, orange, yellow, and red, fallen neighbors.

 

Joy flipped through her scrapbook, sticking it onto her growing collection of photos with transparent tape. She felt gleeful at the gallery, flitting through images of winter, fall, spring, and summer, of last year. Pride rose in waves over her chest at the shots she had managed to take.

 

Time for a new year's worth of season pictorials.

 

Joy hummed, happy at her sets of summer pictures taken just a few months ago.

 

Closing it shut and stuffing it back into her purse, Joy allowed her legs to wander off around the block, fascination driving her feet as she searched for another perfect shot to take.

 

Clatters of laughing children echoed into her ears, a smile painting her lips when they sped past, balloons of green and orange zipping along the specks of dead leaves falling about.

 

Benches along the main pathway were loitered with clusters of differing age groups. The elderly hung near the sidewalk, hands holding onto newspapers or each other. The teens weren't much different except for the cellphones they had between their fingers, furiously tapping away on tiny keyboards.

 

Joy raised her Polaroid camera, wanting a shot of the serene disarray of a typical park that carried life's image.

 

Click.

 

She allowed the picture to develop, keeping it between sturdy fingers as she strolled through, admiring the lake that glistened beneath an orange afternoon.

 

Joy plucked out her journal again to fit the new photo in, securing it with tape and feeling that same bubble of happiness draw along her lips.

 

She stared at the people that managed to make it in, loving how they added to its overall atmosphere: the children, the elderly, the teenagers, and—

 

Joy squinted, urging her eyes to close in on a particular individual atop the slope of the park.

 

A girl was painting.

 

She noted a canvas lying on her lap, a brush sketching the image of the lake that sat across from her (or so Joy assumed), her hair tied into a bun – an orange cardigan and black jeans adorning her stilled figure.

 

Joy was in awe, how happy chaos shrouded the center in frozen pictures of different ages, with silent – almost invisible, calm perched just above them.

 

It was beautiful.

 

Her body spun around before she could process what she was doing, her feet already jogging their way up the hill.

 

Oh god, she thought, keenly aware of how her ears were ringing the nerves in her chest. Joy didn't understand why she felt anxiously excited – what was she even going to do anyway? Say hello? What for?

 

Her legs almost buckled at the sight of her standing, hastily ducking behind the nearest tree so she could catch both her breath and sense of judgment.

 

What the hell was she doing—

 

Joy jumped at the cracks of shriveled leaves, peeking out to spot the girl pack her things.

 

She watched her yank an iPod out of her pocket, fitting a white headphone over her head to cover her ears before walking away, her black Nike's crunching tiny piles of dry orange and red.

 

She waited until her silhouette disappeared behind crowds of park explorers, marring the stranger's image into her memory.

 

Joy wondered if she was crazy for thinking how messy-bun girl (the nickname was rather appropriate, she thought with pride) was a walking portrait.

 

She was beautiful.

 

-

 

She took it back.

 

Messy-bun girl (she was going to call her photo bomber at this point) wouldn't stop messing with her photos.

 

Somehow, and Joy still didn't understand how she did it, photo bomber (screw messy-bun, this was perfectly accurate) managed to squeeze herself in for almost every picture she tried to take of beautiful landscapes.

 

Was she cursed?

 

Joy couldn't fathom how, despite traveling as far away from the park as she could (because that had been the first – unfortunate, snapshot of photo bomber), the girl was still there.

 

Whether it was in the corner of a picture about a building's beautiful architecture, or as some horrid blurred blob whizzing past in the center of a beautiful traffic jam. It was getting ridiculous.

 

Did she suddenly lose her skill of snapping great pictures? Or was this girl following her?

 

She was everywhere.

 

Obviously not in every picture, that was too exaggerative even for her, but photo bomber did manage to photo bomb, well, every other significant supposed-to-be-perfect-photo of the city.

 

Joy was running out of film thanks to her – and Polaroid film was expensive.

 

Click.

 

She grumbled when the image merely stayed behind her phone's screen, missing the way she could have pictures literally within her palm – fresh, new, solid, and real.

 

But as much as she craved a film's crispy smooth touch, Joy valued her bank account more (she admits that her scrapbook is filled with it but each shot were important – and not messed up so the money was never wasted).

 

God, could this get any worse?

 

"Your painting looks really beautiful! I bet it'll reel in even more customers."

 

"Thank you!"

 

Oh god, it did.

 

Joy scowled as her steps slowed to watch photo bomber streak colors of the rainbow over the side of her favorite café’s wall, an image of exactly that. A rainbow.

 

Her brows twitched, feeling all too sure that the world was mocking her and having way too much fun at it. 

 

It was her favorite. Café.

 

First her pictures, now her only source of yummy swirly croissants?

 

This little—

 

"Unnie, will you quit staring at pretty painter girl? I want my cheese cake."

 

Joy had fumbled over her words, her tongue caught between syllables of 'Are you kidding me' to 'Over Satan's dead body', her feet stumbling through the doors at Yeri's strong grip.

 

She grumbled her order as she glared back at the photo bomber near the windows, her expression completely at ease – even happy, at the image she continued to render for everyone to see.

 

Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid fat grin and her stupid messy bun and—

 

"I told you to stop gawking at your crush, didn't I?"

 

Joy grunted at a hard poke to her side, slapping Yeri's hand away as they settled into a spot far, far from the windows.

 

Huffing her disdain for such a twisted thought (crush – on her? That was the dumbest thing she has ever heard), Joy crossed her arms and kicked Yeri's shin beneath the table.

 

"Not. A crush."

 

Yeri looked unimpressed.

 

Joy's hand began to make desperate motions, as if the extra lengths of her arms flailing about were enough to convince her friend, jumbles of sentences spilling between her teeth ("No. Seriously, I'd die if that happens." and "Have you actually seen her? Look at those horrible pants and that ugly cardigan!").

 

The shorter girl hadn't batted an eyelash, simply sipping her cup of coffee before munching on her cheesecake.

 

Joy wanted to strangle her.

 

"Are you even paying attention, Yeri?"

 

"I am,"

 

She felt her brows twitch at the younger girl's nonchalance, watching Yeri pick at her food before shoving a piece into again.

 

Joy scoffed, crossing her arms.

 

"Really now?"

 

"Yeah." Yeri spoke between her munching, her cheeks filled into tiny storage bumps. "Do you always smile when you complain?"

 

Joy was about to scold her for the mess she was making along her lips, specks of cheesecake latched onto the edges of , before her hand froze above the table; napkin dangling between stilled fingers.

 

"I – what?!"

 

Yeri continued chewing between her words, the obnoxious slapping sounds of her lips smacking against Joy's ears.

 

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you were happy to be talking about her." She said, twirling her fork in the direction of photo bomb girl.

 

Joy threw the napkin at her suddenly smug face.

 

"That's – Yeri, you know me. She's everywhere!" Her hands were making wild motions again, hoping the ferocity lining her limbs were enough to persuade her. "She just goes off to ruin my perfect pictures."

 

Yeri nodded, as if agreeing to her plight.

 

"I do know you."

 

"Good, glad that's settled."

 

Joy crossed her arms again, clucking her tongue at the way monolid lady (she didn't know why she had this impression of her being double instead) retied her hair – how cascades of black pooled over slim shoulders, her smile beaming at customers walking in.

 

Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid bear face and her stupid—

 

"Shut up, Yeri."

 

"I didn't say anything!"

 

Joy huffed, well aware of Yeri's knowing smile. Joy wanted to smack it off but refrained in fear that Yeri would pursue her silly thought that she was happy.

 

Pfffft, no.

 

That clueless monolid should seriously stop photo bombing her shots. What a waste of good pictures.

 

-

 

When she thought about it, all she needed was something better to look at – something far more distracting than that dumb monolid.

 

She needed something far more interesting, far more eye catching – far more beautiful (Joy denies photo bomb girl were any of these qualities – pffft, impossible; she was just an itch that she couldn't seem to scratch).

 

The next time she visited the café, the painting was done.

 

A rainbow arching over a modern city, dulled with shades of monochrome. Patches of color sprinkled the corners of grey buildings, waves of vibrant red, blue, orange, green, and yellow, drawn as if it was going to wash the mesh of black and white away.

 

... Not bad, she thought, before catching herself.

 

Monolid was in her head again.

 

Her steps motioned through the door, recognizing the familiar bell chime of the entrance as she marched towards the cashier.

 

Joy needed a distraction.

 

"Thanks," she said, dismissive as her eyes wandered for exactly that, discouraged at the lack of patrons; there were too many free tables and not enough eye candy.

 

Her sigh was heavy, running frustrated fingers through her hair before spotting exactly what she needed.

 

Raven hair tied into a ponytail, her slim white fingers clacking away at her keyboard, donning a checkered black-white-red flannel over a simple white tee with skinny black jeans. Her expression was scrunched, clearly focused on whatever task she had behind the laptop screen.

 

The girl was a cutie.

 

But the thought didn't stay for long, getting replaced immediately by a pair of monolid eyes that wouldn't stop smiling.

 

Joy attempted to get rid of it.

 

"Can I sit here?"

 

She wasn't surprised to see the woman startled at her voice, how she jolted from her seat, her elbow nearly toppling her drink. The stranger let her eyes roam about the café.

 

Joy remembers being impressed with this seemingly timid girl for her blunt tongue.

 

"There are empty tables everywhere." She deadpanned, a brow raised.

 

Joy tapped a finger against her drink, patience running dry because photo bomb girl still cycled around behind her eyes.

 

"I'm not up for sitting by myself today. Is that okay?"

 

She didn't get to hear whether the woman accepted her silly excuse when monolid stumbled through the café doors a second later – a giant roll of paper and a bag filled with paintbrushes dangling between her arms.

 

"Oh um – just a regular coffee, please!"

 

She gasped out like she had just been running laps around the neighborhood (Joy felt more inclined to say she was running through her mind and now she was here; finally out of her head – but that was something she didn't want to admit).

 

Joy hadn't wasted time and settled herself across from flannel woman, ignoring the stranger's disapproving glower as she flitted through her home screen, attempting to distract herself from the fact that photo bomb girl was there too.

 

"I didn't say yes,"

 

"You took too long."

 

"You ignored my 'no', actually."

 

"Oh really? You should've been louder then."

 

Joy grinned when she looked up to see the stranger seethe in her seat, not doubting that her glare could burn buckets of raw chicken if Joy had offered her some.

 

"What's your name? I'm Sooyoung, but Joy sounds better." She offered a truce, raising a hand for her to shake.

 

The woman was mystified at her calm redirection, her brows scrunching up as if confused at her effort to get to know her.

 

"... Sooyoung." She said, hesitating, as if to practice the foreign taste on her tongue.

 

Joy's brows furrowed at her Korean name, withdrawing her hand.

 

"Didn't I just say I preferred 'Joy' better?"

 

"Yeah." She answered simply, before tapping her fingers away on her keyboard again. "But why do I have to listen to you when you didn't listen to me?"

 

Joy didn't know whether she should laugh or be impressed at her competitive bravery.

 

She settled for being whiningly complacent.

 

"Whatever."

 

Joy was grateful for the contrast in her initial impression. It helped clear her head of photo bomb girl; she'd take a conversation with a stranger that had a dagger tongue any day.

 

But monolid lady just had to sit at a table near the window where her eyes could see her perfectly.

 

"Oh god this is ridiculous—"

 

"Why do you look constipated?"

 

The frustration boiling in her chest was suddenly doused with flannel woman's sardonic remark.

 

Joy rolled her eyes but felt thankful for the pull back to reality.

 

She drummed her fingers against the circle table, attempted to keep her eyes at the stranger (who was supposed to be monolid's replacement) but fell short when they found their way back to messy-bun girl.

 

Geez, she had so many nicknames for this woman.

 

"Did you sit with me so you wouldn't be that obvious about your crush?"

 

Joy snapped her eyes back to flannel lady, words already leaving to scratch away such a wrong assumption. She felt offended.

 

"First of all, no. Second of all, just no."

 

"You look really wound up—"

 

"Screw her – she's literally everywhere. Like, is she stalking me?" Joy scoffed, her complaint tumbling out of like it was finally free from its trap door cage. "Why does she have to keep ruining my pictures? She's in Every. Single. One – almost. Doesn't that sound crazy to you?!"

 

"... Yes."

 

"Me too. God, does she exist just to photo bomb my shots?"

 

"Uh huh,"

 

Joy pulled at her hair, frustration coiling the tips of her fingers that scraped along her scalp.

 

"And now she's here. Like, can't she just give my eyes a break? I'm sick of seeing her – it's getting a little out of hand and not to mention creepy."

 

The woman raised a brow, the sound of her clicking keyboard stuck on mute.

 

"... You're not stalking her, are you?"

 

"Are you kidding me?"

 

"No."

 

Joy clucked her tongue, nodding in approval.

 

"I have better things to do then follow some stranger with a stupid bun and her stupid monolid eyes and her stupid face that looks like a stupid bear –"

 

"Right ..."

 

She glared at the stranger's judging look.

 

"–You're just like Yeri! Never listens, what's wrong with you?"

 

"Who's Yeri?"

 

Joy slapped her face, dragging her hand along her cheek, groaning at the world's cruel way of toying with her. Couldn't she have just one good friend?

 

"I'm out of here," Joy stood, curling the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "My eyes need to look at something prettier. Thanks. Sort of, er..."

 

Flannel lady took her cup to her lips.

 

"Joohyun,"

 

"Right," Joy muttered, instinctively glancing up to see miss monolid bopping her head to a rhythm from her headphones, gazing out with November leaves playing as her backdrop.

 

For once (or twice, but the first image at the park was an accident), considering the main subject was her (this girl just wouldn't leave her photo album alone), it looked like a picture worth taking.

 

"Hurry up before she realizes you're a stalker, Sooyoung."

 

Joy scowled at Joohyun's amused smirk, before hearing the girl clacking away on her laptop again, giving her some speck of privacy for her decision.

 

She plucked her Polaroid out of her purse (it felt nice to have it in her hands again), thankful for the relatively empty café on a Monday afternoon so she didn't look creepy in front of a bigger audience.

 

Joy steadied her arms so she could take the perfect shot.

 

Her breath was stuck somewhere between the ridges of her ribs to the dry corridor of when she looked through, wondering briefly if it was okay for her to stare.

 

She clicked the capture button before the moment passed, spinning around when monolid looked her way and hoped her ears would stop ringing.

 

Joy glanced at the picture, briefly wondering how the girl could make the rest of her environment fall short.

 

It was beautiful.

 

But she was still a stupid, clueless, ugly, photo bomber. 

 

"One regular cup of coffee for Seulgi!"

 

She watched monolid lady – Seulgi, hop towards the cashier, her grin blindingly bright.

 

So that was her name.

 

-

 

Joy didn't know what to say when Joohyun had told her she was dating Yeri.

 

One – she was shocked the older woman told her first, though perhaps that was why Yeri had texted her that morning to have a hang out because she wanted to say something important and Joohyun had merely intercepted earlier.

 

Two – their was huge (Joy could already imagine Joohyun insisting it wasn't that big), though Yeri had always been mature than most whilst Joohyun was more childish than she initially thought. It worked.

 

Three – how the heck did they even find out about each other? Joy couldn't recall ever inviting the two of them to the same event simply because they were – well, too far apart in terms of age.

 

“As long as she’s good to you and you’re good to her, I don’t need to know anything else.”

 

And they worked.

 

Joy had her doubts; it was hard to believe that they had compatibility. They were also both rather quiet, so it was a wonder how they functioned without an awkward cloud hovering over their heads.

 

But she had glimpses of their interactions together and her doubts were swiped clean.

 

And then suddenly they didn’t.

 

"A-Are you okay?"

 

Joy wasn't sure how to approach Seulgi; not when the shorter girl looked as broken as this – a smile filled with pretend and eyes that seemed to know how to play the part.

 

Seulgi walked beside her holding her hand like she was wishing she was someone else.

 

Joy untangled their grip.

 

"Come on, I'll take you home." The taller girl said, guiding her down the steps.

 

Joy ushered her into the passenger's seat, feigning ignorance to the anguish air coloring Seulgi's silent expression.

 

They had left Joohyun and Wendy back at the restaurant, knowing just how much her two closest friends needed to talk (it was quite the pleasant surprise to learn Yeri was working there – not every aspect of their lives were told to one another after all, but still). It was a long time coming.

 

“… I had fun,” Seulgi spoke as they turned a corner, her voice lined with fragility, croaky from its muted pause. “The food was great – I didn’t expect our friends to be friends with each other.”

 

Joy didn’t either. What a small world.

 

“Yeah,”

 

“You look great, by the way.”

 

Joy attempted to play her part of an overconfident maestro, pushing strands of hair off her shoulder as if she were in a shampoo commercial.

 

"I do, don't I?"

 

Butterflies swarmed with happy chaos in her stomach at Seulgi's feather light giggles. It tinkled of glee, how her lips curled upwards for pearly whites to shimmer through.

 

Even with a small smile Seulgi still cradled Joy’s heart with her laughter. It was amazing how happiness flitted past Seulgi's lips when her eyes begged to differ.

 

It was hard not to see the way she looked at Wendy.

 

But even when Seulgi clearly carried somber anguish behind a gleeful mask, it still managed to be beautiful.

 

Joy wished she could snap a picture of this portrait.

 

... Damn it.

 

"Thanks for the ride again," Seulgi had said before stepping out onto snowy pavement.

 

Joy merely waved back, a plastic grin covering her face; attempting to convince herself that she wasn't pretending to not be disappointed.

 

She tried not to let it slip on the way home, not wanting to crash her car because of her own silly expectations that maybe Seulgi would look her way.

 

It was hard to fake it past her bedroom door, shredding off her teal dress and glaring at the fact that she bothered to make her own adjustments.

 

Joy wanted to punch herself for even bothering with the effort of putting up her own designs, blanching at the memory of how she had been proud of it just hours before.

 

Was she that desperate for photo bomber's attention?

 

... Stupid.

 

Joy balled the dress into a giant lard of creased teal before dumping it into the trash bin.

 

There was no way she was going to let herself fall for a beauty who still had eyes for someone else.

 

-

 

Joy somehow isn't surprised to find Seulgi sitting on snow just outside of her workplace, her beige coat a seemingly weak barrier against the cold – spotting how the shorter girl shivers under the evening sky.

 

She should've brought a car to Joohyun's place; it'd be mean she wouldn't feel obligated to comfort the crying photo bomber (Joy knows deep down she's thankful she did – if only it meant she could spend more time with her).

 

"You're ugly when you cry."

 

It's the first thing she says, not going with the typical greeting of 'hello' or a simple 'hi' when it would merely place awkward clouds over them.

 

Seulgi is sniffling, rubbing away at her eyes, as Joy settles beside her.

 

Geez, her bottom will get wet – it's freezing.

 

"J-Joy? What are you doing here?" Seulgi peeks behind thin fingers, her eyes visibly puffy with pink and tears that still drops to mark trails along her cheeks.

 

Joy hugs her knees, resting her head on them so she could watch the way Seulgi attempts to wipe off pain that doesn't want to stop.

 

"I was heading home. You should be too."

 

Seulgi keeps mum, her weak whimpers the only thing that plays as her answer between them. Joy lets her weep, noting the lights have been turned off in the toy store – Seulgi must've been in charge of closing it for the day.

 

She should've at least stayed inside to cry where warmth is present instead of freezing her tears off outside.

 

"Did your friends force you, too?"

 

Joy's eyes snap back to Seulgi, watching the way a loose strand of hair uncurls from her messy bun at every attempt she makes to dry the wet scars off her face.

 

"For what?"

 

"To go on that blind date we had,"

 

Oh, she thinks then.

 

"Yeah," Joy says, pretending Yeri had pushed her into it when that was far from the truth (she just happened to convince the friendly cashier to set them up; Krystal was nice despite the scary face).

 

"Did I at least pass your expectations?"

 

Joy thinks back to that one evening, how Seulgi had looked at Joohyun's roommate like she was still very much in love with her.

 

She wonders how she had missed such an important part of Seulgi's life; maybe that was why she hadn't seen the other girl as often after that perfect picture – like she had disappeared and the only thing that told Joy it was all real were snapshots of her in her scrapbook.

 

Her words sound so much like the truth that Joy almost falls for it herself.

 

"I had none."

 

It wasn't like Joy spent hours prepping herself in the mirror, tailoring a newly bought dress to her liking and adjusting the hair on her head so she could get a specific person's eyes to look her way.

 

"Ouch. You must have high standards then," Seulgi giggles behind shaking hands, noting how her fingers seem ghostly pale.

 

Joy wants to reach out and hold them – be her fireplace.

 

"I do. It's rather hard to catch my attention, you know." She says instead, keeping her hands to herself.

 

Seulgi laughs, and Joy settles for merely observing the way cold fog spills past chapped lips.

 

"I'm sorry I disappointed you,"

 

Joy knows it's lighthearted, how Seulgi sees her as a comrade – a potential friend waiting to bud under flowerbeds of ignorant longing.

 

She scoffs at her innocent reply, feeling both disheartened and frustrated at the accuracy of Seulgi's words. She still remembers how she threw the dress into a trash bin as soon as she got home.

 

"Yeah well, I'm a tough one to crack." Joy musters up the courage to keep her voice steady, aim to reveal absolutely nothing under her stuttering heart. "You're just a tiny bit above average though. 71 out of a 100 at best."

 

"Are you number 1 then?" Seulgi grins, her smile making butterflies leap in Joy's stomach even when they had perfectly functioning wings instead.

 

Joy taps a thinking finger against her chin, as if to ponder her answer, keenly aware of Seulgi's amused look.

 

"70. Definitely better than you, though. Just not the best." Joy retorts, smugly modest, attempting to hide her tremor voice from Seulgi's radiant expression.

 

Even her eyes are smiling; she's not used to seeing it up close.

 

"For what it's worth, I did find you pretty. Still do," Seulgi says, jolting frequency jumps at every beat in Joy's chest. "So I'm happy I'm only one digit away from you!"

 

Joy laughs, stomping hard against the butterflies that still bounce hope in her stomach.

 

Seulgi's still crying even when she's smiling at her.

 

When the shorter girl goes back to curling against her knees, listening to how her sobs crack the quiet evening air, the lamppost shining gold along the contours of her slouched shoulders, Joy thinks it's perfect for a quick snapshot.

 

She plucks her Polaroid out of her purse, remembering how long it has been since she's used it. She needs to add more pictures to her lonely scrapbook – the last image she has being the moment she had captured Seulgi in her headphones beside the window (she had gone to pursue photography professionally, using cameras with much better resolution).

 

Click.

 

Joy hears Seulgi rise up from her poor cave of muffling her despair, listening to the shuttering gears of her Polaroid render the image on her lap.

 

"W-Why did you take a picture?" Seulgi whimpers, and Joy wants to roll her eyes – she hates how her weak voice is cracking the edges of her sturdy guarded heart.

 

"Just because."

 

Seulgi sniffles, curling a strand of loose hair back over her ear.

 

"I... I thought you only take pictures of things you find beautiful."

 

Joy whips her gaze back at her, shocked that she was aware of such a tiny detail.

 

"How'd you know?"

 

"Joohyun unnie. Our coffee talk this morning," Seulgi grins impishly and Joy wants to slap it off – it looks horrible with her pink puffy eyes and red cheeks.

 

Suddenly she wants to ask Joohyun what else they've talked about. Next time.

 

Hopefully she doesn’t make herself bleed to death tonight with her poor sewing skills – or lack thereof.

 

"True." Joy says, going back to the task at hand, yanking the photo out and waiting for the picture to develop. "You're really ugly when you cry."

 

She hears Seulgi sniff, watching how she brushes an arm along her face again and Joy grimaces at how crude her method is for cleaning up after her tears. Such a kid.

 

"...Then just – just go."

 

Joy merely snaps another picture; one where Seulgi's face isn't hidden beneath her arms – where she can see every minute detail – raw, in pain, and real.

 

"And leave someone who's ugly enough to be beautiful? Not a chance."

 

"What?"

 

Joy waits until the picture stutters out and grasps the edges, clasping the two photos between her fingers as she shoves her Polaroid back in her purse.

 

She doesn't answer Seulgi's confusion, settling for wiping off tear tracks along her cheeks. Joy masks her act of kindness with rough rubs of her thumb along Seulgi's skin, acting as if she was sick of being patient.

 

Seulgi grimaces under her not so gentle touches, wincing from slight pushes as Joy attempts to clean off the sadness with trickles of frustration coloring her fingers.

 

She wonders if she's being too rough when Seulgi flinches at her final streak, scratching off a new teardrop attempting to fall from her left eye.

 

"Ow... Can't you be a little more gentler?" Seulgi whines, eyes scrunching out of pain but Joy doesn't want to come off as nice.

 

"Can't you be a little less soft?"

 

"Can't I cry sometimes?"

 

Joy scoffs, ridding away the tickle of agreement running about in her chest.

 

"Can't you cry less?" She snaps back hastily, pressing hard against Seulgi's cheek.

 

"Don't you cry?"

 

Joy laughs. "Not always, like you."

 

"I don't always cry..." Seulgi huffs, crossing her arms and Joy ignores how she thinks the shorter girl's pout is cute – stop it.

 

"Please. You're crying even when you're not."

 

"Why do you say things that don't make sense?"

 

Joy laughs, wiping her wet tear stained hands along her black high waist jeans before standing up. She doesn't want to explain the obvious; Seulgi needs to take steps on her own.

 

When she glances back down, watching a shimmer of new tears cascade along Seulgi's face, Joy wonders if she's being too harsh – expecting things to heal too quickly.

 

Joy ruffles Seulgi's hair, turning her head away when Seulgi looks up at her; she doesn't want the shorter girl to see her cry.

 

"Careful. If you keep crying like a mess you'll just be left with being beautiful."

 

Joy hears Seulgi laugh, a noise so akin to happiness that Joy wonders if she's deluding herself. Seulgi wouldn't be happy about anything except that someone else.

 

"See? You're doing it again – saying things that don't make sense." Seulgi chuckles and Joy wholly agrees.

 

"Trust me, I don't get myself either."

 

Joy still has a list of things she knows aren't worth her time.

 

She just wished Seulgi was still a part of it.

 

"Here," her hands burrow through her purse, pulling her journal out and flipping the pages until she reaches her favorite photo. "You can have this. For inspiration." She passes Seulgi the picture, glancing carefully to see how the shorter girl's eyes widen at the image. "Beautiful, isn't it? And I'm not a stalker, just saying. I happened to be passing by."

 

Joy doesn't wait for her to comment (if she were even going to), marching off, the snow absorbing each nervous step on her trek back home.

 

She hopes Seulgi forgives her for the rough treatment; she's not used to easing tears off someone else's face rather than her own. Her hand isn't used to being gentle – she isn't used to swiping away pain beneath her favorite pair of monolid eyes.

 

Joy's not used to giving away her pictures when images said words she never could.

 

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

 

She hopes Seulgi goes back to looking happy beside the window with her white headphones again.

 

-

 

Irene hadn't known how to look at Seungwan since.

 

It has already been weeks since that kiss she received when Seungwan thought she was sleeping (she had even forgotten Yerim, and it was February already – time surely goes fast).

 

She was, until Seungwan started reciting lines from Sooyoung's ugly scribbling.

 

Irene had been too tired to bother rising up, her back already aching from hunching over the desk to sew the dress; she didn't want to move anymore.

 

It didn't help that it felt like a dream, like she was hearing Seungwan's voice even in her slumber, her eyes refusing to crack open.

 

But then suddenly she felt warmth linger against her cheek, heating up from a touch too soft to be the skin along Seungwan's fingers.

 

Her assumption was right when Irene felt her breathe; she knew then what Seungwan had done.

 

There were too many “Why's” dancing around in her head when her mark lingered even when she heard the chair next to her squeak out Seungwan's position.

 

She had kissed her and it made Irene's chest play an all too familiar beat of rapid pounding that had always been for Yerim.

 

"You still love her, don't you?"

 

The “Why's” seemed to multiply, bouncing against every nook and cranny of her head, like it didn't want to stop reminding her.

 

Ever since that evening, images Irene thought to originally be innocent displays of friendly affection seemed too intimate to be just that.

 

The way Seungwan would brush her hair back when she clearly had hands of her own – how her touches lingered even after it was done.

 

Had Seungwan always looked at her like that? Like... she wasn't sure what kind of like, but it was certainly something.

 

Irene suddenly found herself observing more – paying attention to every detail, whether it be in the way Seungwan fidgeted with the hem of her shirts to the tiny lip bites she makes out of nerves or frustration.

 

But most of all, she paid attention to herself.

 

Irene remembers yesterday, how she had found Seungwan in the kitchen, humming a song as she catered to the frying pan.

 

Her roommate seemed oblivious and so was she when her feet moved to settle behind Seungwan, propping her chin atop the shorter girl's shoulder.

 

"J-Joohyun?"

 

Irene became more observant, sure, but paid a price with the controls of her limbs.

 

She wanted to hold her, wrap her arms around her and snuggle into her warmth; meld heat between their bodies like they usually do every night when they're in bed together.

 

But there was an unspoken rule that rose along with the sun every morning – that their intimacy between the sheets shouldn't be present during daylight.

 

It seemed that they had mutually agreed to pretending like they weren't playing with the thin line between friendship and something more, pretending like they weren't spending each night way past simple camaraderie.

 

They were playing a game where they entertained the best of both worlds, but suddenly Irene wanted one more than the other.

 

"It smells good, you're making me hungry." Irene said, taking reign over her hands so they clutched the edges of the counter top and not somewhere else.

 

She had been all too aware of the fact that she had trapped Seungwan between her arms, even when she wasn't touching her.

 

"Oh, okay. It's almost done so hold on just a little longer." Seungwan chirped, expertly swirling the contents of fried vegetables and meat.

 

Irene wondered how Seungwan's sing-song voice could make her stomach churn more, her nails digging deeper against solid surface; she could feel Seungwan's heat tempt her hands for a touch.

 

It didn't help when she could smell tinges of peach and strawberries, shifting closer until her nose grazed against the skin of Seungwan's neck.

 

"Hyun?"

 

She wondered if Seungwan had casted some sort of dizzying spell for the way she craved to hold her, fists tightening against the sturdy countertop.

 

"...Hm?" Irene breathed her in, suddenly intoxicated with strawberries and peach.

 

"Is something wrong?"

 

Irene felt her brows narrow, not understanding her question until she felt soft fingers curl over her hands, encouraging them to loosen their titan clutch.

 

Her touch snapped her back out of dreamy memories of holding Seungwan at night.

 

"O-Oh – um, sorry, it's nothing."

 

Irene hadn't meant to stutter, but the way Seungwan turned her head to look at her had frozen her lips and she had been forced to make due.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

Her body was finally listening to her, waving a dismissive hand as she stepped back, making room to breathe.

 

"Yeah, just – you know, really hungry." Irene attempted to mask the way her fingers trembled for Seungwan, combing back her hair. "Right, anyway. I just – I have to go check on something. Be right back."

 

She had spun around and marched straight to her respective room before Seungwan could question her stumbling tongue.

 

Her lack of control has been going on for far too long lately. It's terrifying.

 

What if she does something Seungwan doesn't want? And what about Yerim?

 

"I've been meaning to ask, why doesn't your roommate call you 'unnie'?"

 

Irene spits her drink, splattering water all over the younger girl's face.

 

Sooyoung looks scorned, disgusted, betrayed, and amused, all at once.

 

"First of all, I'm glad to add something new to my long growing list of things I can tease you with. Second, thank Satan it's not hot coffee or I would've thrown mine at you too. And thirdly, if you wanted to put saliva all over me you could've just leaned over and kissed me—"

 

Irene leans over as she's told, gripping hard on a pile of napkins beside her. She sees Sooyoung's eyes widen at her movement, red flush rising quickly up her neck and Irene smirks at how she swallows.

 

"W-Wait, unnie I-I was just kidd—"

 

She slaps a bundle of napkins on her face before sitting back down on her seat, a grin plastering the edges of her lips.

 

Sooyung whines as she dabs at her face with tissues, peeking out between white napkins to glare at her.

 

"Don't play with an innocent maiden's heart, unnie."

 

She scoffs in response, bewildered at her implication of being pure – Sooyoung was far from the word.

 

Irene waits for Sooyoung to clean up, lending a hand when she misses a spot just below her chin.

 

"Unnie?" Irene recognizes the slight tinge of vulnerability painting Sooyoung's voice, a rare occurrence that it freezes her hand to still below her jaw. "I wish I had a crush on you instead,"

 

Sooyoung's wistful smile breaks the strong image Irene's so used to associating her with, how her eyes carry sorrow like it was its color.

 

Irene attempts to ease her troubles away, swiping steady fingers along the contours of Sooyoung's chin. Her voice plays as pillar of support, letting herself sound confident because Sooyoung suddenly isn't.

 

"So you could tease me even more as declarations of love? Don’t you do that already?" Irene jokes tenderly, trying to lighten the heavy tension she sees in Sooyoung's expression.

 

Sooyoung sends her a scoff and wry smile. "True, but also because I'd rather like someone who's worth it."

 

"Seulgi's not worth it?"

 

Irene watches Sooyoung keep mum, the question drawing watercolors of hesitation over the younger girl's eyes.

 

The silence sits in, letting the girl delve into her thoughts as Irene wipes off the specks of water from the table; recalling Sooyoung's innocent question.

 

"I've gotten used to hearing her call me without it," she says, hoping her half white lie makes it past Sooyoung's sharp mind. "That's why."

 

Irene pretends it's not mostly because Seungwan's call once before had her on wobbly legs with a stopping heart.

 

The way her tongue curled over the simple title, "Unnie," when she was busy ironing had Irene flushing with goose bumps (and nearly burned off her entire hand).

 

It was odd how Seungwan managed to make it sound both excruciatingly enticing and delightfully sinful at the same time.

 

Irene treasured her poor fingers, weak knees, and a fragile rib cage, so she put a stop to Seungwan's horrible slander of "Unnie," before it could get any worse.

 

She didn't want to be mere putty in her hands.

 

"Unnie?"

 

Damn it,

 

"Can you please not saw off the table with your scrubbing? I need it to hold my croissant."

 

Irene sighs, balling up the wet napkins into creases before walking up to discard them.

 

She needs to relax.

 

Her fingers instinctively burrow into her coat pocket when she feels her phone's vibration. The skin along her cheeks immediately burn pink at the caller ID:

 

‘Home’.

 

Maybe she should rethink the name (it was sort of embarrassing) but knows she won't when no one else would see it anyway.

 

"Wan?"

 

"Hey,"

 

Irene dunks the balls of drenched tissues before signaling to Sooyoung that she'd be outside.

 

She smiles at the younger girl's shooing wave, stepping out just outside of the café to lean against the rainbow-grey-city painting.

 

"What's up?"

 

Shuffling distorts ring against her ear, sounds of crunching plastic whistling through the phone.

 

"Oh, just um – hold on," Irene does as she's told, vaguely curious of the ruckus, brows rising up at her annoyed growls. "Just – there. Okay, now, where was I?"

 

Chuckles escape Irene's lips, amused at the various frustrated grunts she's heard from Seungwan's mouth.

 

"What are you doing, Wan?"

 

"Oh, right!" Seungwan's happy chirp soothes a growing ember in Irene's chest, feeling warm under her silk voice; she's thankful to hear it whisper "Goodnight," before bed. "Um, I'll be sleeping over at Seul's tonight – will you be okay without me?"

 

Irene's suddenly choking out air, coughing out oxygen quickly depleting from her lungs, squeezing out like a squished balloon.

 

What?

 

"A-Are you okay, Hyun? What's wrong?"

 

She's shaking her head to quell the worry in Seungwan's voice, temporarily forgetting she can't see her until her roommate continues to probe.

 

"I-I'm fine," Irene coughs out, clearing . "Sorry, I just choked on my drink."

 

That was true, before.

 

Seungwan's relief reaches to cradle her ear.

 

"Oh. Just be careful, okay? I'll see you tomorrow, so don't stay up too late. Try to sleep early, okay? And eat properly."

 

Irene's about to retort, whine "I'm older than you," but it falls behind her teeth, merely letting Seungwan go on her rant about the foods stuffed in the refrigerator, the primary exits in case something happens, and that she'd be back before evening the next day.

 

She listens to her velvet voice, how it carries hints of anxiety when she mentions safety and precautions, before it tilts to concern under syllables of food stock and listing the items that aren't there.

 

Irene wants to ease the worry still painting Seungwan's voice with every word spilling her lips, crawling into her ear that doesn't get sick of listening to her. But she doesn't want Seungwan to stop talking.

 

She wants to hear her more.

 

"Did you get all those down, Hyun?"

 

Irene pretends she doesn't remember to always make sure the door is locked, to check that the stove is off, to see that the lights aren't on, that she couldn't skip breakfast (because it was the most important meal of the day), and that she should keep warm because it was still cold out (and never forget her gloves and scarf – and preferably with a hat on too but that was optional).

 

"... Nope."

 

Seungwan's whine is cute and long, how it drawls off to make the guilt press along her chest and Irene is tempted to tell her the truth – that she's heard every single word; that she had her instructions on how to use a fire extinguisher on loop.

 

Irene doesn't want to say goodbye (even when she knows it's merely for one night – it was just a sleepover; stop being dramatic). She’s being childish.

 

She ends Seungwan's misery with a request.

 

"Can I hear your 'goodnight', then?" Irene attempts to keep her voice from quaking, her fingers trembling to keep the phone up against her ear. "Since you won't be home."

 

She wonders if she's being clingy – was she asking for too much?

 

Seungwan's laughter is twinkling.

 

"It's too early for a goodnight, Hyun." Irene feels crippling disappointment line along the edges of , uncurling her smile. "How about later? So when I call, you'll be forced to sleep then."

 

Irene loves the idea.

 

"Will you promise me that?" She asks out of fun, encouraging Seungwan to talk more – to not let this conversation end; no, not yet.

 

Seungwan's giggles spark a smile back on Irene's face as quick as it had left.

 

"I promise."

 

Irene gets back to a quiet apartment.

 

The lights are out, the rooms are empty, and the apron is hanging off the hook beside the refrigerator.

 

Her fingers glide along the strings of Seungwan’s guitar, perched carefully in its rack, allowing the distorted mesh of noise to fill the silent air that Irene’s not used to.

 

She spots the fluffy teddy bear sitting alone on the couch, her furrowed brows making creases on her forehead at the blue sticky note attached to the strap of its fixed blue dress.

 

“In case you get too lonely. It’s cuddly to hug, I promise! Wait for my goodnight before you sleep, okay?”

 

– Wan

 

Irene settles beside the toy, wrapping her arms around the plushy and snuggling close – it smelled of her newly bought fabric softener.

 

“Looks like it’ll just be me and you tonight,” she laughs, rubbing its head.

 

Irene waits for her goodnight.

 

-

 

It’s February 10.

 

Wendy remembers having woken up to an alert on her phone, notifying her that it was Seulgi's birthday.

 

She kept opening the calendar even when she was at work, storming up ideas of what to get for her special day; nothing seemed to fit – not a stuffed animal, a cake, or treating her out for a movie.

 

Wendy wants to make up for their broken friendship (or so it looks to her) considering Seulgi still pretends like they're okay.

 

“So can't I keep pretending? Just for a little longer – until I'm not anymore?”

 

But was that the right thing to do?

 

Somehow, as she bids her coworker goodbye, hiding in the warmth of her blue jacket and stepping out onto the evening snow, Wendy can't tell if it is (even when it has been weeks since).

 

But she did what Seulgi asked, going along to their mute scripted play, pretending she's not bothered that they're pretending to be happy despite knowing what they had once been – that they could've been more.

 

She readjusts the straps of her backpack, the muffled squeaking of plastic looping along her ears with every crunching step of her boots against cold white.

 

"Why don't I drop you off there?" Joohyun's voice cradles her vision, remembering her roommate's masked concern under stiff nonchalance.

 

"Her house is close to where I work," she had said then, stuffing her clothes into a plastic bag before shoving it into her backpack. "You'd be wasting gas, so don't worry about it."

 

"That doesn't matter. When do you get off? I'll pick you up."

 

Wendy both cherished and despised Joohyun's tenacity (she hated it – how could she handle leaving her for one night if she gave Joohyun the opportunity to see her before she could? She'd never want to leave)

 

"Joohyun. Really. I'll be fine –"

 

"No. Just let me—"

 

"— I won't bake you carrot muffins anymore if you do."

 

"... Fine."

 

She lets the scent memory of Joohyun's vanilla and lavender tuck her in its safety embrace as she knocks on Seulgi's door.

 

"Oh hey!" Seulgi greets, grinning from ear to ear as she moves aside, her slippers a cute pair of fluffy bear faces. "So what's the occasion?" Her brows make waves over her expression, Cheshire pearly whites coloring her lips.

 

Wendy shoves her playfully, smiling at the laughter erupting from Seulgi's mouth at her own poor joke.

 

"Har har, I already greeted you remember?" Wendy huffs, recalling her morning call to her several hours ago, scowling at Seulgi's impish grin. "Now how about you help me put my stuff up in your room so we don't have to let the cold air in anymore?"

 

Seulgi obliges, dropping a set of blue slippers with adorable faces plastered on them like her own as she shuts the door behind them.

 

Wendy crouches down, curious of the adorable cartoon expressions.

 

"Are these new?" Wendy asks, unable to recall seeing this particular pair of slippers back when their sleepovers were consistently 4 days straight per week, the cycle broken when she had moved into the apartment on 34th street.

 

Seulgi hums. "Yeah, but I honestly can't figure out what animal it's supposed to be."

 

"The cashier didn't know?"

 

"I asked most of the people who worked there – they couldn't decide between a hamster or a chipmunk."

 

Wendy giggles at Seulgi's lost look, how hard she seems to be pondering over a silly thing like an animal's cartoony face before slipping them on, the skin on her feet appreciating the soft cotton warmth.

 

Seulgi takes her backpack for her, strapping it over her shoulder before she ushers her up the stairs.

 

“It’s been awhile,” Wendy muses absently, staring at the family portraits covering the walls of the living room.

 

“Yup.” Seulgi says simply, gently guiding her with a nudge on her back.

 

Wendy passes by a portrait that has her in it, not recognizing the giant smile she wears on her lips – so akin to Seulgi’s mega-watt grin.

 

She doesn’t remember it.

 

The evening goes by in clouds of friendship and simple talk (“Where’s your family?” “Went to support my brother’s debate competition over on the other side of the world – I still have school so I couldn’t go.” “Oh.”), how their play sometimes feel like they're not pretending anymore, where they'd giggle over a drama's horrible plot twist to getting flustered at a couple's sweet kiss.

 

Wendy misses this airy comfort that lacked all their troubles and hid them away for as long as it was possible, dreading the time when this soothing fog is replaced with tensing knowledge of being aware that there was still words that weren't said.

 

Things would be easier if she was just Wendy.

 

"Why are you here, really?" Seulgi asks when they're in bed together amidst the haze of flitting through channels for a new show to watch.  

 

Her question comes as a surprise, yet not.

 

Wendy fidgets with the ends of her navy blue sweater, nudging gently against Seulgi's elbow with her own. Her voice sounds small but eerily loud despite the ruckus of the television, eyeing the invisible lint on her sleeves.

 

"I... I couldn't spend most of today with you, so the least I could do was be yours for tonight."

 

It was true.

 

Most kids were preparing for their upcoming spring concerts and so more classes were offered for additional practices, whether it was vocally or with instruments. Today her schedule had been fully booked.

 

"Wen..."

 

Wendy bites on her lip, unsure of whether she was allowed to hold Seulgi's hand (wouldn't she be making it harder for her?) so she settles for bumping her elbow again instead, a nervous smile crawling along .

 

"Happy birthday, Seul."

 

It was all she could give her. Yet it doesn’t feel enough.

 

Seulgi looks like she's trying to convince herself that she was a dream.

 

Wendy brushes away locks of ebony so similar to Joohyun's, curling it behind Seulgi's ear to see eyes that carry too much. She wants to wash away the doubt – the hesitation that seems to be stuck behind pools of deep brown, as if she couldn’t believe that she was actually here. With her.

 

"I'm here, Seul."

 

I'm here.

 

And suddenly Seulgi is kissing her, the taste of her orange chapstick coloring her gasp to muffle behind her lips, taking Wendy's voice along with it.

 

She lets Seulgi guide her, the taller girl's hand curling beneath her chin, urging Wendy to lie on her back, cushioning gently between the soft mattress and Seulgi's body heat.

 

Her eyes have instinctively shut at Seulgi's roaming free hand, how her fingers play with the hem of her navy hoodie, Seulgi's touch fiery against her stomach. Wendy clutches her shoulders, clamping nails down as Seulgi draws her patient confession along , filling Wendy's lungs with words she should know but never remembered (“I love you. I love you. I love you.”)

 

Wendy can't help but groan under Seulgi's bite on her bottom lip, how it gets trapped between Seulgi's teeth before her tongue swipes at the indents she's made.

 

Seulgi's touch is stifling.

 

"You can't do this to me," Seulgi is pleading, her words hot on Wendy's lips. "...You shouldn't be doing this to me." Wendy hears how she begs, tracing her fear along before Seulgi is kissing down to the lines of her neck. "Please don't do this to me, Wendy..."

 

Wendy can't speak when her lungs tell her there's nothing to say, how air escapes her as fast as Seulgi torches her with a lit match for fingertips.

 

She’s not Wendy.

 

"Don't tell me to love you tonight if I can't love you tomorrow."

 

Seulgi's scorching marks along her side – over her stomach, to the buttons of her white-washed jeans. 

 

Wendy doesn't know why she's not stopping her when she can hear the dragging sound of her zipper, Seulgi's tongue incinerating the skin where her pulse is the loudest. It makes her mewl her name, "Seulgi..." arching closer at every touch along her thighs until her jeans slip past her feet.

 

Seulgi's head rises back from her neck to kiss her lips, as if to feel her deeper – longer, the taller girl's smile drawing hotly against .

 

And then Seulgi shoved her off the bed.

 

"Ow!" Wendy yelps, rubbing at her arm that had cushioned her fall. "What was that for?!"

 

She rises on wobbly legs, spotting a candid photo of Seulgi beside a window with white headphones over her head, squeezed into the crook of her vanity mirror.

 

Seulgi doesn’t answer her question.

 

"Put on some pyjamas because we are going to just cuddle and talk about anything and everything, ignoring that horrible underwear you're wearing."

 

Wendy doesn't feel embarrassed despite her nitpicking, observing the way Seulgi's face is flushed, heat coloring her cheeks red. But her eyes are telling her that's as far as they'll go – no questions asked.

 

When she dresses into the clothes she's packed for herself, watching how Seulgi turns away, fiddling with the material of her blanket, Wendy wonders what she had just done and why she had done it – and why she had let it happen.

 

"You finished? I'm getting sleepy."

 

Wendy ignores the pout she hears in Seulgi's voice, both fascinated and relieved of how easy it seems to flutter back and forth, pretending they hadn't just –

 

"Okay I can't ignore it. Why an ugly brown underwear, Wen-Wen? That's hideous!"

 

– Yeah. She loved how they went right back to being normal.

 

"Anyways," Wendy attempts to dodge the question, shuffling under the sheets with Seulgi (she doesn't see what the big deal is; it's just a color). "You said anything and everything, right?"

 

Seulgi nods, snuggling under the covers.

 

Wendy stares at the way Seulgi looks at her, wondering if the words she had said before, "Like a love letter," were meant for herself instead.

 

She can still taste orange on her lips.

 

"Can you tell me about her?" The confusion is obvious on Seulgi's face, how her brows scrunch up, feeling lost. "About Wendy?" Wendy asks, pressing a finger down on the space between fuzzy eyebrows, easing the crinkles on Seulgi’s skin. "...What was I like?"

 

Wendy thought she had seen all of Seulgi's radiant smiles, but they were nothing compared to this.

 

Happiness flutters from her eyes and her lips, lining each syllable of words that bounce between her teeth. Seulgi's even grasping her hand, her gestures flailing and animated and terrifyingly hopeful.

 

She listens about someone who isn't her – who she used to be, wondering if it's okay to pursue this familiarity when her fingers attempt to reach for the modern hourglass tied to her wrist.

 

Seulgi pokes her cheek.

 

"You were such a tease, you know? Being all mean to me,"

 

She laughs, swatting Seulgi's hand away, before snuggling into her arms, enjoying this simple comfort that she had somehow forgotten was always there.

 

Seulgi continues with her story – their story, going on about how she had bought her the blue dress; that Tae-Tae was the one who got her the teddy bear.

 

And to think Joohyun was the one who took care of it.

 

She can feel her fingers slide against the glass (no wonder Taeyeon was so clingy towards her), attempting not to tap numbers along even when the scent of coconut contouring Seulgi's neck pressures thoughts around her brain.

 

Wendy tries not to count the past away.

 

"What happened to lesson 1?"

 

She wants to hide. It's scary knowing how she still doesn't remember anything.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – three,

 

She's grateful for all the times she's done her part in their friendship play, inwardly thankful that Seulgi had asked her to pretend.

 

And so she does.

 

Wendy fools Seulgi with her practiced smile and rehearsed giggles that she's learned from their scripts, forgetting that she had promised Joohyun her goodnight.

 

-

 

AN:

 

Yay, now we all know Joy’s perspective on things. I hope it clears most questions that you may have with her. Regarding that Seuldy/Wenseul moment, I had tried to be as descriptive as possible whilst keeping in mind of AFF's censorship of certain words (I know I can avoid this by putting subscriber's only/member's only, but I won't). Hopefully it wasn't too hard to follow.

 

Thank you for reading, for all the upvotes, and for the comments.

 

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