XIII

Irene paces up and down outside Wendy’s ward, unsure if she should go in. There are nurses staring daggers at her and she can’t meet their eyes, knowing that she is probably causing a disturbance. (She probably looks dubious too.) She left in the middle of the night yesterday, leaving Wendy to wake up alone to an empty room in the morning. Irene knows damn well that the right thing to do would be to leave, but the line between right and wrong keeps blurring and Irene cannot decide.

The door slides open, making Irene jump. She turns to see Wendy in a pink hospital gown, looking very unlike a CEO. Here, Wendy looks normal, common, ordinary and Irene feels like she can love her.

“Joohyun?”

Wendy looks shocked to see Irene and it’s expected because Irene left without telling her. Not a single note left on her bedside table. Guilt bubbles in her but she keeps shut because she doesn’t know what things (promises that she cannot keep) she might blurt out. Unsaid words spin in her head and she toys with the end of her sleeve uneasily. Her head hangs lowly, eyes trained on the ground because she fears of meeting Wendy’s eyes – eyes that tell of an aching longing that she knows all too well.

Neither of them talks and Irene can feel herself slowly withering. Her feet are suddenly made of lead and she can’t lift them for some reason. Her hands are already balled into fists because why won’t Wendy say anything?!

Then there’s a gentle hand on her forearm and she makes the mistake of looking into Wendy’s eyes.

Irene doesn’t expect to see the warmth and tenderness in her eyes. Nothing screams sadness or need. Just a soft yearning that makes Irene feel wanted and appreciated. It looks as if Wendy wouldn’t exchange Irene for the whole world. It almost frustrates Irene, how Wendy never views her relationships as mere business transactions, because the CEO is too polite, too warm and too kind to simply be a CEO.

Fingertips dance lightly on her skin and leave a trail of goose bumps in its wake. Heat rushes to her face at Wendy’s touch and she chastises herself for craving Wendy so much. It makes her wonder how long it has been since they last stood this close to each other because the touch leads her to unfamiliar and foreign grounds.

“D-Don’t do that, it’s unfair,” Irene stumbles on her words and she wants to hit herself.

Wendy smiles, no, smirks as she poses a question, “Do what?”

Her eyes are wide and innocent but the way her lips are curled upwards tell a different story. Irene flushes more, if possible, but she doesn’t pull her hand away from Wendy.

“Light me on fire.”

Irene doesn’t know where the words came from because she is never this daring when it comes to Wendy, but the words are out and she cannot take it back. When the smile drops from Wendy’s face, the girl panics, thoughts invading her head rapidly. She quickly averts her eyes, looking at her feet again. It takes a while before Wendy responds, clearing as she does so.

“Now you’re being unfair.”

And Irene looks up to be greeted by pink dusted over Wendy’s cheeks – a rare phenomenon for the kind-hearted CEO. It is good to know that she’s not the only one affected by this, whatever this is. She runs a hand through her hair, chewing on her lower lip. Wendy pulls Irene inside, her other hand flying up to her right cheek in a feminine gesture to conceal her blush. The receptionist ducks her head, hiding a secret smile, allowing herself to be dragged by Wendy.

“Are you better now?” Irene asks, after making sure Wendy is back in bed, tucked comfortably in between sheets like a blanket burrito.

“Better now that I feel like a kimbap,” Wendy jokes and Irene sees a brief flash of the Wendy she knew before everything went to hell.

The Wendy who derived joy from teasing and annoying her, the Wendy who was relaxed and smiled like all was good in the world.

The Wendy before Irene collided into her like a disaster. (She is no good for Wendy.)

Suddenly, the reality slams into Irene hard. She feels like she has just been doused with ice water and the coldness burns her immensely.

“Wendy, we need to talk.”

Irene doesn’t sit down, deciding to stand instead. She figures it gives her some courage to deal with this dreadful conversation that neither one of them wishes to have. She just hopes her legs won’t lose their strength.

Irene’s words seem to have sobered Wendy up, because her brows are now tweaked downwards and her lips are pressed into a thin line.

“It’s Seungwan,” Wendy insists.

Even at this moment, Wendy still wants Irene to call her Seungwan. The persistence tightens her chest, but she masks the aching behind her ribs with an exasperated sigh.

“Seungwan, this—”

“You left.”

The rather abrupt interruption leaves Irene blinking; words paused at the tip of her tongue.

“You left,” Wendy repeats, the words now sounding more like an accusation.

Her biting tone pushes all of Irene’s buttons the wrong way because Wendy sounds like she’s blaming Irene for something she cannot control. She feels wrongly accused and Wendy just doesn’t seem to understand her emotions and actions. Everything between them is crudely simplified into two words which pin her down and trivialize her feelings.

“What?” is all Irene can utter because the disbelief is clouding her mind and she cannot make any sense of why Wendy is saying things like that.

“I woke up and you weren’t there. You weren’t with me. You left me. Am I supposed to welcome you with open arms whenever you come and go?”

Her words sting and Irene feels that the words somehow do not just refer to Irene leaving Wendy in the morning. Wendy is etching a perpetual frown on her face and causing even more heartache, like all that has happened between them is not enough to crush Irene’s feelings and tear her heart like mere paper.

“How can I leave if I wasn’t there in the first place?” Irene snaps.

She feels wronged and Wendy looking at her like she’s a bad person doesn’t make things any better. Without knowing, she already has her fingers tugging on her own blouse tightly in annoyance. Irene can hardly believe she is actually getting mad at the person she loves the most.

“You come and go so easily like my feelings don’t matter,” Wendy says, keeping her voice low and levelled, like she has everything under control when she doesn’t.

“You say that like it hasn’t been hard on me.” She can hear herself raising her volume but she cannot stop herself.

Irene doesn’t even let Wendy reply her, raising a hand to shut her up.

“Telling me to call you Seungwan doesn’t make us girlfriends,” she grits her teeth, seeing red. “We’re not in a relationship, Wendy. So don’t push the blame on to me.”

While giving it as good as she receives if usually a trait that Irene adores about Wendy, she hates it right at this moment.

“We weren’t supposed to be in contact. You’re the one who came running in. You came here on your own. You stepped over the line we drew for ourselves,” Wendy states matter-of-factly, calm and composed like the CEO she is and Irene detests it.

“Then tell me where the line is because I can’t see it anymore!”

It feels like raising her voice drains the energy right out of her and she’s heaving in distress, tightly clenched fists leaving creases all over her blouse. She doesn’t want to be doing this, yelling at Wendy when they can choose to better spend what little time they have together. (But who is she kidding? They aren’t in a relationship.)

Wendy starts to look like a kicked puppy upon hearing Irene’s words. She looks terribly contrite, like she regrets starting the conversation this way.

“I don’t know where it is either,” Wendy mumbles it like it is a sin.

Irene isn’t sure when being with Wendy started to feel so tiring. Her emotions fluctuate too frequently and too rapidly that her head is a storm that never simmers down. They’ve done too much push and pull, both of them rejecting but desperately clinging onto each other like a lifeline. And now they’re facing the consequences of too many unsaid words and too much pent-up feelings.

“I don’t like arguing with you,” Irene relents, exhaling as she finally frees the wrinkled hem of her blouse. “I came because I was worried. I wanted to see you again. I don’t want us to fight and get mad at each other.”

Irene settles down on the chair beside Wendy’s bed, her legs losing their strength after the row. She shifts a bit closer to Wendy, wanting to bridge the distance and craving the close proximity.

“I always want to see you. And I’m not mad at you. It’s not you, but this situation that I’m mad at,” Wendy admits before she gives a small smile. “I missed the feisty you. You sounded so snappy and grouchy just a moment ago.”

“You like it.”

“I do. It’s refreshing to see someone yell back at me when I’m usually the one doing all the yelling,” Wendy teases, seriousness all gone and Irene likes this easy banter way more than arguing.

“You lie. You’re such a softie, you don’t yell at people,” Irene laughs softly.

“I’m above yelling. Passive-aggressiveness is the way to go.”

“I’d like to see you try that,” Irene mocks light-heartedly.

“Never on you,” Wendy says.

It’s not supposed to light Irene up like a match, but it does anyway.

“We’re supposed to talk, you know?” Irene tries to switch the topic.

“We already are talking.”

“No,” Irene whines. “I mean serious stuff.”

“I don’t think people call importa