As Promised. 

Song recommendations:

And I'm Home - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dE-QXsqf-9E

Credens Justitiam - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cH6NB2F-Jcw

(/ I just want y'all to listen to these songs because they make me so emotional and helped me loads for writing this chapter sfhbsahdf) 

-

I love you.

Byulyi stares at the hand hovering in front of her, feeling a surge of emotion so overwhelming that she stops breathing for a few seconds. It's crazy. It's insane. It's so crazily insane that Byulyi almost wonders if she's hallucinating again - but a hallucination wouldn't allow her to feel like Christmas and every other public holiday had come early.

She raises her own hand, fingers forming the exact same sign, and presses her hand against Yongsun’s, fingertips aligned. She finally remembers to breathe again.

“So...this is real, right?”

Yongsun smiles. “Very real.”

“I'm not hallucinating?”

“No, you are not.”

“I am having a hard time believing that Kim Yongsun, ex bane of my existence, is actually giving me the sign language equivalent of a love confession and that I just unwittingly returned it.”

“Maybe I love you isn't quite the right term for me to use now, if you're into all that ‘three special words that shouldn't be said until the sixth monthsary’ nonsense - but I don't give a , so, I love you and your weird quirks and your face and your personality and your everything, please don't make me repeat it again. I can't remember what I just said.”

God, this woman…

“I must be either insane or very fickle, because I, for some reason, seem to love you too,” Byulyi says, unable to keep the dumb smile from reaching her lips. She can't stop smiling.

“Well,” Yongsun says, “doesn't reciprocation feel great? And I always wondered how it would be like when I fell in love with someone and that someone actually loved me as well.”

“My arm hurts,” Byulyi replies, letting her signing hand flop back into the bench. “I don't know why you'd fall in love with me though, I'm pretty mediocre and not unlovable, but not very lovable either.”

“I don't know. Maybe I'm into mediocre females. Maybe I got so used to how mediocre you are that your mediocrity actually got bumped up to an above average level. Falling in love with you was a slow process, because you're so - so you, but then one day I was just like ‘, since when did I give a damn what happened to Moon Byulyi?’ And then this happened. Wasted opportunity, honestly. I should've fallen in love with someone richer and more hot, but then again, I don't think anyone else will make all my internal organs feel more like my uterus when I'm on my lady thing.”

“I assume that that's a compliment, so okay. Be careful though, Kim, if you keep raining such insults on me I might just realise that I'm actually secretly in love with Wheein.”

“Do anything of the sort and I will throw all of your paints into the Han River.”

“We’re suppose to stop pollution.”

“Then don't you dare, Psych,” Yongsun says simply, giving Byulyi a smile so dangerous that it could probably murder someone if she'd intended to kill the person. “I'm a possessive person, and while I love my future Sister-in-law Comani, I will not hesitate to somehow make her disappear.”

“Roger,” Byulyi says solemnly, saluting.

“Now,” Yongsun taps the pad of her thumb against the back of Byulyi's hand, then the soft skin in slow, circular motions. “Tell me why you fell in love with the ex bane of your existence?”

“I honestly don't have a clue why I did,” Byulyi replies, smiling innocently. “Maybe it's the fact that you were just so different from me, yet so similar to me. Maybe it's your face. Maybe it's your voice. Now that I look at it...there's quite a lot of things to love about you, ex bane of my existence.”

“I wonder if my pulse is supposed to be quite so fast? Is this normal?” Yongsun places the pad of her index and middle fingers to her jugular, feeling the steady, quick pulses against her skin. She raises an eyebrow, and Byulyi grins wide.

“If it's as fast as mine is, then I'd say you're pretty normal.”

“Excellent.”

They fall into comfortable silence, but really, all Byulyi can hear is how fast her heart is beating against her ribcage. Yongsun's still holding her hand, and she honestly isn't really registering the fact that she'd just been confessed to first. By Yongsun.

“I didn't expect the sign language,” Byulyi says.

“I thought of it on a whim, since Wheein was teaching us some common signs just now. It's not really my style to just say it out loud. Signing seemed right,” Yongsun replies, “Were you expecting something different?”

“I don't know, I thought you'd do something more along the lines of you trying to either slap me, hug me or snog me.”

“While I did consider the latter two options, I thought hugs wouldn't convey my message very well, and while kissing you would have been a fantastic idea, I don't like the idea of doing so, one, in public, and two, without your consent - which I did do last time, so I apologise,” Yongsun says.

“Apology accepted,” Byulyi says, lifting an eyebrow. She's kind of surprised - the vast change in Yongsun's behaviour now compared to six months ago is astonishing.

“Hm. Maybe it was too abrupt. Did you see a confession coming?”

“I don't know. I think I hoped,” Byulyi admits, feeling the heat creeping up her cheeks. Now that she thinks on it, she really was hoping it would be something along those lines. “Probably because it would ensure me a steady source of money from a loyal sugar mommy. I guess I should be stopping my catfishing on MySpace.”

“Oh, by all means, although I'm a steady source of money, please continue catfishing people - though then again, catfishes are usually not this pretty in real life,” Yongsun grins at Byulyi's appalled look, flicking the latter’s forehead lightly. “Accept my compliment, Psych.”

“If I have to live with this for the next I don't know how long, I might just want to end this - whatever we have - right now.”

“I thought it was fairly clear what we have right now.”

“A harem?”

“I wish.”

“But really, I need to make sure - for science. Or just to calm my irrationally insecure self.”

Yongsun turns her head to look at Byulyi, lips pressed together in a soft smile. “Well, we’re whatever it is people call two females who are in love with one another. Does it matter, really? Girlfriends, lovers, catfishes, turtles?”

“Girlfriends. Hm. That word feels strange to say.” Byulyi rolls her lower lip into . An idea pops in her mind, and she releases her lip. “Moonsun.”

“Huh?”

“We’re Moonsun.”

“Did you just come up with a ship name for us?”

“It's like - we’re Moonsun, literally. Moon Byulyi, Kim Yongsun. You're my Sun, I'm your Moon. Oh my God. I think I just struck upon an extremely rare moment of genius.”

“This is so cringeworthy and cheesy - this is perfect for us!” Yongsun proclaims, scooting closer to Byulyi on the bench so that their thighs are touching. (They're wearing jeans, but the contact makes Byulyi's pulse spike anyway.)

“Girlfriends is too weird for me to say, so I'll just call you my Sun,” Byulyi grins, nose muscles scrunching, and Yongsun smiles her chin-dimpled smile

“I think that's weirder, but for some reason I love it. My Moon. Moonsun. Hell yeah. Then again, you might have pulled this on every other lover you've had over the years, and might pull this on whoever else you date in the future when you decide to dump me for a richer sugar daddy.”

“First of all, I'm way too gay to even try to get a sugar daddy. Second of all, this pretty little hasn't and isn't going anywhere,” Byulyi squeezes Yongsun's hand.

“Oh, thank God. I might've had to plan for a future in which I ended up in jail with a life sentence or an execution for killing your sugar daddy. Purely by accident, of course.”

“You always know just what to say to make someone feel great, huh?”

Yongsun shakes her head slightly. “No need to flatter me. It’s a skill I was born with.”

“Wheein and Hyejin are going to have a fantastic sister-in-law.”

“Damn right they are.”

Byulyi looks out across the seemingly endless patch of grass where the picnicking families are sitting, adults sipping from Little Mermaid cups and kids running around.

“Do you have anywhere you need to go?” She suddenly asks, glancing at Yongsun.

“No,” Yongsun replies, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Grown tired of my company already? That was quick.”

Byulyi rolls her eyes, slugging Yongsun in the thigh with her free hand. “If you need to go, just tell me. I don't want to be holding you back from anything. Like, dinner or something-”

“Psych,” Yongsun interjects, squeezing Byulyi's hand. “It's five pm. I never eat dinner this early.” Her smile is warm and affectionate and so unlike old Yongsun that Byulyi can only stare dumbly and in awe for a few seconds before collecting herself.

Damn Yongsun and her pretty smile.

“I'm just saying, if you need to leave, you should.”

“Psych,” Yongsun sighs, shaking her head, “This pretty little isn't going anywhere.”

-

Two years later

Byulyi slides a clean white cup under the spout of her espresso machine, thumb tapping the button that releases a jet of dark, steaming hot liquid into the cup. She follows up by carefully pouring warm microfoam over the espresso shot, and then topping it with more foam. Her hand is still a little shaky as she draws her trademark crescent moon shape in the milky foam, but otherwise it looks pretty decent.

Crescent moons are recurring shapes around her. On the ceiling, on the panelled walls. For every crescent moon there's also a sun - all artfully placed so that it doesn't look messy. And on the panelled walls are her paintings - paintings of sunsets, of watercolor galaxies, and also a single Pepe with a blonde wig.

Wooden tables. Fabric armchairs. Beanbags for even lower tables.  Pots of fake plants in cozy corners, hanging ceiling lights casting a warm orange glow on everything beneath them. Ladder-like shelves for easy access to condiments and extra plates and anything else. It's a cozy design that never fails to make anyone inside feel right at home.

She places the cup on a saucer along with a metal spoon, and the entire thing is placed onto an already loaded tray.

“God Wheein, did you order enough to feed the entire population of a small country?” Byulyi says loudly over the counter, as Trainee Waitress Hyunjung brings the dangerously tottering tray over to Wheein’s table.

“Not my fault Yongsun's cakes are the bomb! And also not my fault that you learned how to make a flat white and that I happened to fall in love with flat whites. I need the sugar and the caffeine, okay? I'm a growing child,” Wheein replies, helping Hyunjung to unload the appalling number of plates onto her table. “Also, three of these plates are Hyejin’s.”

“Good to know,” Byulyi says sarcastically.

“Hey, we’re giving you business! You have no right to be sarcastic. We’re probably your prime investors right now, right Hyejin?” Wheein nudges Hyejin, whose eyeballs are reflecting the thousands of words she's typing on her word document.

“Huh? Uh, yes,” Hyejin says distractedly, backspacing furiously. “Damn assignments. Sorry, Wheein.”

It's pretty amazing how they seem to have aged timelessly over the past two years - still the same bickering and dynamic, still the same huge appetites. The only noticeable difference is that now Hyejin is elbows deep in her Masters for psychology, and Wheein is doing her Masters in finance, which she swears is akin to necking herself.

“It's a wonder how neither of them seem to have s satiable appetite, they eat enough in cakes to feed a family for weeks,” Hyunjung comments as she places her tray on the counter.

“I heard you, Kim Hyunjung! I swear, it's like you and Chu Sojung are trying to antagonise poor ol’ Wheein all the time.”

“Great minds think alike, don't they?”

Byulyi smiles at the banter, which she has grown used to hearing over the months. “Careful, Hyunjung, Wheein looks cute but she's actually fiercer than a rabid shiba inu.”

“I'm older than her.”

“Good point.”

“Oh my god, this place is actual hell, I need to take a break,” Yongsun groans, emerging from the kitchen with her hair sticking to the sides of her face and flour on her industrial navy blue apron. She's in her white work uniform with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her hair, now dyed ash brown, is pulled into a high ponytail. “It's so hot in there.”

“You have flour on your face,” Byulyi says casually, grinning as she wipes the smudge of flour off.

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