*Wheebyul Lies, Part 3. Final.

As per a suggestion below, this last chapter will be divided between Wheein's and Moonbyul's perspectives. I'll note whose perspective it is before each section.

---

 

Wheein

 

She's running through the tapes of the last round of interviews, but her focus is off. She keeps missing the obvious signs and has to rewind to pinpoint them and mark it down. Her faltering professionalism ticks her off, but she can't help it.

 

Each grimace, each smirk, each snarl, each sigh. As her attention slips and eyes glaze over from the endless drone of the videos, she sees flashes of Moonbyul's face in each of the men she's interviewed.

 

It just leads to a plague of questions about the girl that just won't leave her mind. How would Moonbyul respond? Would she even react?

 

She taps the spacebar, freezing the screen on the smirk of contempt of one man. Definitely suspicious. She makes a little note. Moonbyul would not have slipped up like that.

 

Moonbyul. She drops her pen and rubs her tired eyes. She shouldn't be thinking so much about her. But the girl is confusing in more ways than one, and  the puzzle fascinates her like a ticking bomb.

 

She hasn't heard from Moonbyul since then. Not that she was expecting to be contacted, or anything, of course. But the girl's been suspiciously under the radar and the smuggling case has swamped the rest of her limited attention.

 

Disappointment and resentment boils within her, however, when she remembers. Though Moonbyul hadn't explicitly turned down her invitation for another meeting (a bold action which took even herself by surprise), the reluctance in her off topic response was obvious.

 

Rude. She grumbled to herself. Moonbyul had even had the nerve to kiss her. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the feeling of those firm lips on hers. She may have enjoyed it a bit too much. But what kind of would just kiss you and then leave you hanging? Apparently Moonbyul would.

 

Wheein’s never had much luck in her dating life. If she had to categorize the people she’s gone out with, it would be apt to describe them as the stereotypical nice friend. The type to always smile, to always care. The type to put you before themselves. In other people’s eyes, though, not hers.

 

Maybe that is the reason it never works out. When you see everything, every little white lie of your partner, every little murmur of hesitation, you can’t help but lose the trust you need to make the relationship work. The instinct to see it all is ingrained within her, and she can’t force herself to ignore it, leading to arguments over the pettiest things and foreseen breakups.

 

She wonders what it's like dating a liar like Moonbyul.

 

“How’s it going?” Solar walks in, exhausted. The steaming cup of caffeine in her hand does little to ease the edge off her voice.

 

“I’m done with this set.” She hands the stack of papers to Solar. “For the ones I marked, bring them in for another round of questioning.”

 

“Thanks so much as always. You leaving now?”

 

“I think so.” She slips her arms into her coat sleeves as she stands up. The clock on the wall strikes twelve as she stretches and lets out a soft yawn. “What about you?”

 

“I’m still stuck here for a bit longer,” chuckles Solar. “They’re hard on our asses since the case is dragging on.” Her nose wrinkles in irritation. “Not like we can help working so slow. We’ve barely gotten anything with how well they’ve been covering their tracks. Whoever’s working this ring is smart and meticulous. ”

 

“Moonbyul?” For some reason the name just slips out but Solar just looks surprised and unconvinced.

 

“You still suspicious of her? I don’t think she would be part of this.”

 

“She doesn’t seem like the type, but she is smart.”

 

“It’s better to just stick with the leads we have right now. Besides, that girl has tight lips.”

 

“T-Tight? L-Lips?” The mention of those assets makes her nearly drop her bag in the midst of her packing.

 

“Moonbyul doesn’t give out help easily.” Solar is blowing on the top of her drink, missing the moment of Wheein’s distress. “Last time with you was a fluke. It’s the first time I’ve seen her so agreeable.”

 

“Oh,” she mumbles. Seems as though Solar knows Moonbyul quite well. She can tell Solar even trusts the girl to a certain extent, more so than a typical cop and criminal. She wonders how close their relationship is. Which reminds her. She doesn’t even have Moonbyul’s number. Does Solar?

 

She doesn’t realize how intently she’s glaring at the cop until Solar timidly asks, “Is something wrong?”

 

She almost says yes. All because of that damn Moonbyul. It would be too weird to directly ask Solar for Moonbyul’s number. Cops aren’t supposed to just give out information like that. She says, “I’m just thinking really hard.” But maybe there's another way to go at it. She gulps before asking, “By the way, which bar was it that Moonbyul fought at? The one where she got arrested?”

 

Solar eyes her suspiciously. “Why do you want to know that?”

 

“Weren’t you the one that said Moonbyul’s connected?” she blabbers. “If it’s a bar she frequents, there’s bound to be contacts there. Or people who know stuff. I can just go check it out, see if I notice anything.” Good thing she’s gifted with quick thinking and the ability to spout nonsense in a matter of seconds.

 

“That’s dangerous, Wheein. At least--”

 

“They’ll recognize cops. No offense, but a lot of you guys undercover.” She hurriedly brushes away the suggestion. Extra baggage in the form of moustached men in large trench coats would totally defeat the purpose. Purpose? She her dry lips. It’s not like she’s expecting Moonbyul to be there. Of course not. Definitely not.

 

“But--”

 

“Relax. I could use a drink or two too. I mean it.” It would be nice if Moonbyul happened to be there. She wants to question her. About the smuggling case, obviously. Not the reason why the girl left so suddenly last time. No, that would be unprofessional. There’s a sourness and impatience in her voice as she continues, “So where is it?”

 

Solar sighs.

 

She stumbles past the neon signs flickering by the doorway after a brief argument with the bouncer, trying to convince him that her ID isn’t fake and she is, indeed, of age. She doesn’t recall if she’s ever been to such a shady establishment.

 

Making her way to the bartender, she tugs her dress hem lower down her thigh, heels clacking against the floor in rapid succession as she takes short, hurried steps away from the hungry stares that light upon her lightly dressed figure the moment she walks in. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone home first to change into such a revealing dress, put on a heavier layer of makeup to accentuate her eyes, and let her hair out of its ponytail to float against her shoulders.

 

It’s not like she’s trying to impress anyone who might be at the bar. She’s just dressed to blend in and to let down the guard of anyone she’s going to talk with. Whoever that may be.

 

As she sits down to form more coherent thoughts, a man’s voice comes up next to her and the owner sits by her side. “The lady’s drink is on me.”

 

The bartender frowns. “Carlson, you sure?”

 

Carlson turns towards her and flashes a wink. “Miss. I’m harmless enough. Just take the drink as an introductory gift. It must be your first time here, because I would definitely notice if someone as beautiful as you came in.”

 

“I’ll accept then. Thanks for the compliment.” She gives him a smile back, but her mind is whirring furiously. Carlson could be a start to her investigation. Him and his group of thugs in the back whooping and cheering, thinking she doesn't notice. She’ll just have to be careful not to let slip how she really thinks about him. Which is that he looks like an overzealous slug with the remnants of a purple bruise over his right eye. The guy probably thinks it makes him look cool.

 

“So, will you give me the pleasure of knowing your name? I’m Carlson.” He extends a grubby hand and it takes all her will to make sure she doesn’t grimace when she shakes it.

 

“I’m Wheein.”

 

“What a beautiful name.”

 

“Thanks.” She downs her drink the second the bartender finishes making it, trying to drown the rising vomit of listening to Carlson’s lame compliments. She’ll need the buzz. “Another, please?” The bartender gives a gruff nod and reaches below the counter.

 

“So, how’d you come across this place, Wheein?” asks Carlson, eager to make conversation again.

 

“Heard about it through a friend. Do you come often?”

 

“I’m here most days. I’m a famous regular. Ask the bartender, ask anyone.” He thumps his chest proudly. “Guess you could even say my boys and I run this place.”

 

She doesn’t miss the small eye roll of the bartender as he hands her another glass. Carlson seems to be over his head, and she’s losing hope in the fact that talking to him will glean any useful information. The man seems to have the brain the size of a goldfish, and entirety of that small mass is occupied with convincing himself that he’s the biggest fish in the pond. It’s not the character of someone anyone would entrust an important criminal operation with.

 

However, if he is a regular, he may know of Moonbyul. It’s worth a chance, isn’t it?

 

“Do you know--”

 

A shout rings out from the back. “Wheein!”

 

She turns, thudding of her heart in her chest drowning out the surrounding din. Carlson turns, failed greasy smile dropping into a more natural scowl of aggravation. And the bartender turns, worry traveling down with the lump in his throat as he makes brief eye contact with the bouncer.

 

Moonbyul is here too.

 

-----

Moonbyul

 

She’s only come out to order another round of drinks and bring it back into the VIP room, where her ‘friends’ for the night are waiting for her. It isn’t like she really wants to come out to the bar, where she knows Carlson and his boys are just lounging around. But the rest of her company is a little too inebriated as to speak, and she’s the only one steady enough on her feet and in her mind to handle sane conversation.

 

As she has expected, Carlson is roaming around and apparently trying to pick up another girl. She initially gives it no mind, even though she really ought to go save that poor girl from boredom. But when the slight lilt of the girl’s voice leaks into her ears and she takes another glance to quench the fearful familiarity that rises within her, the curved, petite figure of Wheein grows clear. With that disgusting Carlson getting too physically close to her.

 

So she shouts out to distract them as Carlson tries to slink an arm around Wheein. That bastard.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asks through gritted teeth as she storms up to them. “And Carlson. Back. The. . Off.”

 

She ignores his protests while sliding herself in between the two, much to the dismay of the man she got arrested for beating up. From the corner of her eye, she can see Wheein swaying on the barstool with flushed cheeks. How many drinks has that girl even had? She’s pretty sure Carlson isn’t Wheein’s type, so there no reason for her to entertain him for so long, without at least some alcohol to dull her mind. And that dress of hers, the way it just hugs Wheein’s curves...She hurriedly averts her gaze with a gulp.

 

“Why you messing with me, Moonbyul?” snarls Carlson. “I thought you already had a whole room of half dressed girls back there in the VIP room.”

 

“Shut up.” She feels a shaky hand from Wheein on her lower back, pressing, pinching, but she’s a bit too afraid to look back at the moment. The girl doesn’t say anything and it’s a relief. She’d rather not Wheein stir up any extra trouble now. “Don’t you have something else to do, Carlson?”

 

“I was talking to her before you butted in. So you’re in the wrong here.” He cracks his knuckles menacingly. “You want to fight again? Don’t think it’ll go the same way it went last time.”

 

“You know I’d rather not fight.” She chooses her words carefully, despite the burning desire to slap some more insults against Carlson’s face. “So why don’t you just walk away. Both of us.”

 

“Leave Wheein here then. I’m still talking with--”

 

“No.” She says flatly. Leave Wheein with Carlson, alone? Not a chance. Not with the heavy drinks fogging up Wheein’s mind and clouding those usually sharp irises.

 

“Well, I guess we have a problem.” He his head and widens his stance as his friends come closer, rolling their shoulders back.

 

“Carlson--”

 

“Moonbyul! What’s taking so long?” Hani staggers towards her, words slurring and rolling off her tongue. She presses her body against Moonbyul’s side and clings to her arm, panting against her neck.

 

She can no longer feel the presence of Wheein’s hand. The sound of glass against the wooden counter behind her startles her and she turns, seeing Wheein glow an even darker red, remnants of yet another drink lingering on her lips. The stormy eyes of the decorated professor are brooding as she stares at Hani. Or more like the crop top Hani is wearing, the toned abs that are pressed on her side, the long, slender leg that is s between her own. If she’s not mistaken, she might have even seen Wheein stare at Hani’s chest and then down at her own chest. Was that a huff that slipped out that mouth?

 

“Hani…”

 

She notices Carlson is also distracted by Hani’s presence and body. It’s an opportunity. She slaps a few bills on the counter. “Play nice, you all!”

 

While they’re all still dumbfounded, she tears herself from Hani’s hold, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Then, she grabs Wheein by the wrist and races out the bar.

 

Even in her drunken state, Wheein refuses to tell her her address. Leaving the wobbling girl by the river to walk home isn’t an option either. So now, Wheein’s sprawled out on her bed, mumbling incoherently, while she’s changing into more comfortable clothing. It would probably be a good idea to change Wheein as well, but she’s not about to face the wrath of sober Wheein in the morning.

 

She spreads out a blanket on the floor and stretches, ready to sleep after turning off the lights.

 

“Moonbyul,” mutters Wheein sleepily. “I’m cooooolllllddddd. Hug me?”

 

“Just go to sleep, Wheein. Stop talking or you’ll regret it in the morning.”

 

There’s silence except for the rustling of blankets. However, moments later she feels the warmth of a body next to her, lifting up the blanket to snuggle closer.

 

“Warm,” the sleepy voice mumbles into her back.

 

“Wheein!” she gasps. She scoots away a bit, but the clinging arms don’t let her move any more than a few inches. “You need to sleep on the bed.”

 

“But it’s cold,” whines Wheein. “I like it down here.”

 

She bites her lip as she thinks, but there’s really not much to think about. Wheein is truly a difficult drunk to deal with. She’s a combination of touchy, whiny, and greedy. All wrapped in a dress of adorable sweetness. A dress that doesn’t cover much. She ought to reprimand the girl about wearing such revealing clothing next time they met.

 

With one careful arm behind Wheein’s neck and the other behind her knees, she lifts the girl up and lays her gently onto the bed. After a brief moment of hesitation, she joins her, tucking the edge of the comforter up so it covers both her and Wheein. The bed isn’t big enough for any substantial space between them, so she can only remain still as Wheein cuddles against her, back pressed against the heaving and burning of her chest. Soon, the girl’s breathing steadies.

 

“Wheein. You asleep?” Moonbyul whispers.

 

When there’s no answer, she sighs, breath fluttering against Wheein’s neck. It’s peaceful, unusually so. She can’t remember the last time she’s just slept so calmly like this, with someone so securely within her arms and not beneath her in a heated mess. In fact, had she not met Wheein tonight, she would have probably gone with Hani after a few more drinks. Another meaningless night, waking up to another meaningless morning.

 

She threads her fingers through Wheein’s locks, caressing and twirling them around her fingers. Wheein appears to be completely out. There’s a threatening mass of truth that is waiting on the tip of her tongue. Wheein’s asleep. It can’t hurt to talk to herself, right? Just to herself.

 

“I’ve been questioning myself more and more ever since you came into my life, Wheein. You’re making everything a mess. My reasoning, my confidence,” she sighs, “my emotions.”

 

“There’s some things that just won’t work out. There’s circumstances. People that get in the way. Happy endings don’t exist for people like me. And it’s not worth it to try for one.”

 

“You were right that day. In my trade, if you give all of yourself away to anyone, you’re just letting yourself become the victim. It’s important to have control. If you can control who you are, you can control what others think of you.” She inhales deeply, and the lingering scent of Wheein’s shampoo calms her. However, she can’t hold back the guilt, the regret, and the nervousness in her voice.

 

“All it takes is one mistake. One mistake, and they get your weakness and never let you go. I should have gotten to Hwasa before they did. I shouldn’t have let them get anywhere near her. Shouldn’t have let them break her.” It’s impossible to hold back the sobs and she buries her face into the pillow, muffling them to hide her leaking self hatred. “I shouldn’t have gotten close in the first place.”

 

“She knows she can use Hwasa against me. But I learned. Once is enough,” she whispers. She lets an arm fall over Wheein’s waist, hugging the girl tightly. “That’s what I told myself. One tool for her to use against me is enough. It had become so easy to shut everyone out.”

 

“But then you came along. I can’t even control myself well around you.” She chuckles softly. “You made me want to beat up Carlson again tonight when I saw him hitting on you. And I’m not even a violent person to begin with.”

 

“I hate it. I hate how you can see through me sometimes. I hate how you make me feel so unsure.”

 

“But I love it too, how you understand me. Isn’t it strange? To hate and love something so much. I love y--” Her words are choked in . “Nah. I don’t know what love is. Forget it.”

 

It’s tiring, letting out such raw, untainted honesty. Hot tears leak from her eyes into the pillow beneath her, for the truth hurts more than the lies. She should just sleep this agony away.

 

Minutes later, there’s complete silence in the room.

 

But there’s only one set of steady, rhythmic breathing. It’s hers.

 

Not Wheein’s, whose breathing is erratic and not asleep.

 

-----

 

Wheein

 

She’s late, she’s tired, and she’s entirely unfocused on the job at hand. She can’t help it though. She wasn’t able to get much sleep last night while thinking over Moonbyul’s words.There was a hint of sun behind the curtains by the time exhaustion finally knocked her out, giving her a mere two hours of rest before the incessant ringing of her phone woke her up. By then, Moonbyul had been gone too.

 

Should she bring up the topic the next time they met? The curiosity is killing her, but she wants to respect Moonbyul’s privacy. Privacy must be what the girl wants, because she’s positive Moonbyul would never share these secrets if she hadn’t thought she was sleeping that night.

 

It’s difficult to process it all, even now. The truth behind Moonbyul is far more complex, the emotions behind her reasoning far more intense. She’s never seen anyone so afraid of feelings. Never seen anyone so afraid to admit something so normal.

 

If this 'she’ is someone even Moonbyul is afraid of, there must be something more about her. Something that ties her hands and stops her from admitting to feelings she now knows Moonbyul reciprocates--oh god.

 

That's what's been itching in the back of her mind.

 

She's in love with Moonbyul.

 

Is it really love? She tries to reason with herself. Maybe it's just a symptom of extreme obsession with a patient she's trying to figure out.

 

But she's already crossed a few lines there. What kind of doctor sleeps with their patient? And a confession mumbled in the dead of night to a supposedly dead drunk professor isn't exactly formal procedure per se.

 

These details aren’t simmering well in her tired brain, and the pile of papers on the desk are screaming to be read. What she needs is a nap, to recharge. She can do it later, this thinking, about Moonbyul, about the case. She sets an alarm for 20 minutes and lays her head down on her desk.

 

The tempting fragrance of coffee wakes her up. She rubs one of her eyes and gazes blearily at her phone. It’s only been eighteen minutes. She then turns to the corner of the desk, where a fresh cup of coffee is standing where it wasn’t before. Who could have…

 

She jumps out of her chair and dashes to the doorway, peeking out between the frame to run her gaze around the station. Nothing, nothing, nothing--

 

The elevator lights up in her peripheral vision. There’s two cops flanking one of the guys she marked for another interview. But what startles her is the fact that right beside him, heading into the elevator as well, is Moonbyul.

 

“Hey. Hey!” Her shout stops them in her tracks. She slows down her jog when she’s face to face with the little group. Well, face to face with everyone but Moonbyul, who’s avoiding her gaze.

 

“Well. If it isn’t the little cop helper. You weren’t there for my second interview today, even though you were the one who called for it. Almost missed your company, doc.” He smirks at her with the confidence of a free man.

 

“What’s happening here?” she asks sternly to one of the cops.

 

“James is leaving. He’s got an alibi.”

 

“That alibi wouldn’t be her, would it?” She glares towards Moonbyul, whose gaze is still directed everywhere but her face.

 

“She’s testified for him.”

 

“I want to talk to her.”

 

James interrupts, “There’s no reason to talk to her. You guys have nothing to connect her to any of this. You can’t just--”

 

“I’m fine. I’ll take care of this. You head out first.” Moonbyul pats his shoulders and gives him a meaningful look. When the two cops and James are in the elevator and heading away, she finally turns around and looks straight at her. “Yes?”

 

“Coffee. Desk. You?” Moonbyul’s mysterious gaze breaks down any ability of hers to form a full sentence.

 

But thankfully, the girl seems to know her well enough already. With hands shoved deep into her jean pockets, Moonbyul chuckles and says, “Thought you’d need it. Chase away the hangover. Judging from your red eyes, you’ll probably need it to balance out on all the sleep you’ve missed too.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem--”

 

“But I don’t drink black coffee.”

 

“W-What?” Moonbyul looks panicked. “I mean, sorry, I didn’t know.” The smile on her face is twitching ever so slightly and her eyes are unsteady.

 

Maybe it’s just her, but Wheein feels as though Moonbyul’s easier to read today. She’s making all sorts of mistakes and the confident facade that’s always been present is peeling away.

 

“You should still drink it all though,” mumbles Moonbyul. “Just add sugar or cream or something.”

 

“Really? Why is that?”

 

“I bought it for you.”

 

“And what does that matter?” She’s a little perplexed on why Moonbyul is so desperate for her to drink it. Did she drug the coffee or something? That wouldn’t make any sense either.

 

“J-Just drink it all. I need to go right now.” The elevator dings and the relief in Moonbyul’s face is so evident that it irritates her.

 

“Girlfriend?” she asks, annoyance spitting out with the word.

 

Moonbyul falters at the accusation and stands, hunched over as she waits for the elevator doors to close. “What? N-No.” Through the last sliver of sight right before the doors close, she insists, “Drink the coffee!”

 

Then she is gone, and Wheein wants to slap herself for even forgetting to ask her about her involvement with James. And what kind of alibi she is for him.

 

The coffee. There must be something about the coffee. She returns to her desk and downs it in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste. It tastes just like coffee. There doesn’t seem to be anything about it. So why was Moonbyul so fixated on it?

 

As she is about to toss it into the trash, a black smudge at the bottom of the cup catches her eye. Frowning, she dumps out the dredges of the drink into the sink and peers at it once again.

 

It’s a phone number. Her heart skips a beat. Could it be Moonbyul’s number?

 

With trembling hands, she hurriedly inputs the digits she’s memorized, and tosses the crumpled paper cup into the trashcan.

 

Does she make the first move? Wait, she has to. After all, only she has Moonbyul’s number, and not the other way around.

 

But what does she even say? Something vague, just for security reasons. Moonbyul has some unwanted ties. Something unique, so Moonbyul knows it's her, not one of those random girls. Like that Hani. Her lips curl in distaste. Something nonchalant, so she doesn't appear too desperate.

 

W: I can see your lies.

 

Well that isn't awkward at all. She cringes as she presses send, and she's already regretting it. Where's that undo button when you need one?

 

Bzzz. A reply already?

 

M: Aren't you trying too hard to be cool, cutie.

 

A red paints her cheeks as she furiously types back. Cutie? Moonbyul is as flirty over text as she is in person, if not more.

 

W: I thought you were a busy person. You sound bored.

 

M: What do u even mean. I got this new phone just for you.

 

W: You must have a lot of phones then. For all your lady friends.

 

M: Heyyyyy now. That's not true.

 

W: You're saying you really got a whole other number just for me?

 

M: Yup. I swear.

 

W: Oh god. Is this an illegal burner phone…

 

M: Don't tell Solar.

 

W: Are you getting me caught up in your “activities”?

 

M: Don't tell anyone. We're partners.

 

W: What do you mean by that?

 

M: Partners in crime. ^_^

 

Goddamn Moonbyul is smooth. She tosses the phone to the side. She's really spent way too much time on Moonbyul and not enough time on the case.

 

The lists of video files are still there, untouched. Her fingers rub circles in the side of her head, trying to ward off the headache she knows is coming.

 

She can always talk to Moonbyul later. That little comfort shows itself in the ghostly smile that graces her lips as she resumes work.

 

-----

 

Moonbyul

 

Exercising is a pain, but a necessary tool for survival. That's the only thought that convinces her aching feet to plod on by the river. However, no matter how skilled she is at lying, this lie is one that's even hard for her to swallow. Exercise. Pft.

 

It's a familiar river. And a familiar riverbank. The sunset is as pretty as it was the last time she came. There's a few more people now that it's earlier in the day. Families laughing around a picnic basket. Kids skipping along playing games of tag. Couples all over each other's faces in broad daylight.

 

And a random, lone girl sitting by herself with headphones on.

 

Her feet slow down, and she finds herself inexplicably drawn, as always, to Wheein.

 

Luckily for her, Wheein hasn't noticed her presence, instead bobbing her head rapidly to whatever music is echoing between those speakers. She hides behind the trunk of a tree by the girl and digs for one of her phones.

 

M: What are you doing?

 

She grins as Wheein twitches and pulls her phone out. If only she could see the girl's face and reaction. But that would be too obvious.

 

W: I'm thinking.

 

M: Work?

 

W: Got off early today. Work wasn't working out.

 

M: So what are you thinking? Maybe about me? ;)

 

Wheein jumps in her seat and she rocks back and forth on the grass as she answers. Moonbyul adores the difference. It's really difficult to see the cold, studious professor in the small ball of fluff sitting feet from her.

 

W: You wish.

 

M: Guess you caught me there, professor. You busy?

 

W: Not really. Why?

 

M: Wanted to know if I can bother you.

 

She slips her phone away and with a few strides, she is right behind the girl who is oblivious to her approach. Bending over, she places both hands on the sides of the headphones and tugs it off Wheein’s head.

 

“So can I bother you?”

 

Wheein whirls around at her voice and the loss of the deafening music pulsing faintly from the softs pads of the headphones.

 

“Moonbyul? How are you here?”

 

“I was taking a jog and saw you.” Nudging Wheein with her foot, she sits down on a dry patch of grass beside her, a careful distance away. If only physical distancing worked as well as emotional distancing.

 

“Uh huh. And my puppy can understand everything I say.”

 

“You have a puppy?”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Aw come on, Wheein. I believed you there for a moment.” She playfully elbows the girl in the side.

 

“If you get to lie, I should too,” pouts Wheein as she rocks back from the push. She scoots over, closer, breaking the clear wall Moonbyul had tried so hard to establish. So much for distance.

 

Wheein’s warmth at the point of contact is blistering, but she can’t pull away. Every meeting, every time she talks to Wheein, she finds it harder and harder to resist. It’s obvious no matter how much she tries to hide it from herself. Wheein is breaking her down, breaking the barriers she’s built for years, breaking the identity she’s created. Who is Moonbyul? She doesn’t remember anymore. It’s been too long since she’s been honest to herself.

 

“You’re no good at lying. You’ve got a tell, you know.” She pokes Wheein’s cheek with a grin. “It shows when you get really flustered.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I don’t know if I should tell you.”

 

“Hey!”

 

This time Moonbyul is the one falling backward from Wheein’s indignant shove. But she grabs Wheein as she falls and they both end up lying on the grass, with Wheein

 

It’s a bit similar, but also a bit different from that other night. Wheein is still in her arms, they’re still alarmingly close to each other, and Wheein’s hair is still the same, calming scent that wafts up through her nostrils.

 

It’s a whole different view, though, facing Wheein’s dimpled smile instead of the back of her head. It’s a bit different of a feeling, when Wheein is awake, staring back up at her with such tempting features of innocent surprise. It’s a different array of emotions that boil within her, when Wheein doesn’t pull away and instead buries a pinkish face into her chest.

 

Her confidence drops like a sinking stone. Where’s her glib words when she needs them? It doesn’t feel right to just use her typical pick up phrases with Wheein in this situation. Wheein doesn’t deserve that, not the half-heartedness she employs in the games she plays with her random hookups.

 

“Say something.” The voice mumbles against her collarbone along with a hot puff of air.

 

“W-What do I even say?”

 

“Thought you’d have a lot of experience. All those girls. Girls like Hani.”

 

She doesn’t know if Wheein is trying at all to hide the jealousy in her tone, but if she is, it’s not working. She hides her widening smile and soft laugh in the locks of Wheein’s hair. Her hand moves automatically and begins to pat the top of Wheein’s head, downward in a calming motion as her other tightens around Wheein’s waist. The soft sigh of satisfaction she gets in response stirs the dormant feelings that she’s finding more and more unable to ignore.

 

“What about girls like Hani? She’s a sweet girl--Ouch!” She had forgotten how feisty Wheein is. Hopefully she’s not the same in bed. That short temper and fuse of jealousy is also something that could do with some taming, if they ever went steady.

 

Something else drops in her stomach. Something she recognizes far too well. Fear.

 

She knows she shouldn’t be thinking of the future. Of a future. Much less with Wheein.

 

Wheein mutters, “What would you have done that night? Would you have gone with Hani? Slept with her?”

 

“Are you jealous?” She shouldn’t have asked. She doesn’t want the answer. Because either one will bring her a whole world of hurt.

 

“Yes.”

 

Wheein’s face is painful to see, the way her brows furrow so deeply with confusion and her lips tremble so violently with a flood of questions, when Moonbyul pushes her away.

 

“You shouldn’t.” She stands up and backs away from the girl who’s sitting up in a befuddled state. “You really shouldn’t. I don’t want you to.”

 

“That’s a lie.”

 

“No. G-Go away.”

 

“That’s a lie too!”

 

The strained voice follows her as she runs away as fast as she can. It’s not the first time she’s run from the truth, after all.

 

But it’s the first time it’s hurt so much.

-----

 

Wheein

 

“Where is she? What’s her condition? What happened to her?”

 

“Calm down Wheein.” Solar admonishes her loud, ringing voice in the hospital. “What are you getting so worked up for?”

 

Wheein’s face is paler than normal, and her breath is jumping every few seconds as she blinks in panic at the chaos of the white halls. From what she’s gleaned of Moonbyul’s personality, she knows the girl would never willingly go anywhere that would require extensive identification. Much less a hospital.

 

“Is she ok? At least tell me that,” she hisses as she follows Solar past the wards.

 

“She’s conscious now. The surgery went well. She’s lucky she actually managed to get to the hospital, and that a few cops were nearby at the time of the shootout”

 

“She got shot?”

 

“A few times, yeah.”

 

Wheein freezes on the spot, heart hammering within her chest. No. Shot. Surgery. Shootout. What the hell was Moonbyul doing? It seems so unlike her to be wrapped up in something like this, to be so directly involved in business. Not that kind of criminal, she had said. Liar.

 

“Wheein. What are you doing, blanking out over there?” Solar looks up at the sign outside one of the rooms. “Moonbyul’s in here. Come on.”

 

She nods and follows her in, slightly mad at how Moonbyul would endanger her own life like that. The girl should be smarter than that. The girl she knows should be better than that.

 

The anger drains out and is replaced by worry when the curtain’s pulled to the side and she sees Moonbyul. The girl is lying on the bed, IV stand next to her pale face and limbs. She looks even thinner than before, if possible.

 

But the anger soon returns with a tinge of annoyance at how cheerful Moonbyul looks despite her conditions. At how that cheerfulness must be tied to the friendly banter between Moonbyul and the nurse attending to her. At how pretty the nurse is and the way the nurse giggles at whatever joke Moonbyul’s cracked.

 

Solar coughs and the conversation between the two halts when she flashes her badge. “I’ve got to talk to Moonbyul here for a case. Could you step out for a moment, please?”

 

The nurse nods, but before she leaves, she bends to whisper to Moonbyul in a tone everyone easily hears. “Talk to you later, love.”

 

Solar flips open a notepad as she says, “You look like you’re healing well.”

 

“Very well,” Wheein adds in a low, pettish tone. “So perky and bright despite being shot, aren’t you? Well enough to flirt, in fact.”

 

“What do you need to know?” Moonbyul’s avoiding her glare and almost looks guilty. She’d like to imagine the guilt is from her accusation and not from whatever Solar’s come to question her about.

 

Solar chooses to ignore her comments and asks, “You were shot downtown. Is that right?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“You know about the recent escalation in gang violence due to the smuggling case? The area where you were found is a hot spot for territorial rivalry among the gangs. Did you know this?”

 

“I’ve heard it mentioned on the streets.”

 

“They’re being supplied weapons. The number of drug overdoses and gang deaths have risen atrociously. And that’s only counting the ones we’ve been notified of! How many more die behind the scenes is something we’ll never find out.” Solar’s voice rises with each sentence, anger vibrating within her voice. “What do you think of that?”

 

“It disgusts me.” Moonbyul answers simply.

 

Solar looks towards Wheein, who nods back. Moonbyul is telling the truth.

 

“What were you doing there, Moonbyul?” The cop gets down to the crux of the matter. “What happened that you got shot? Not once, but,” she flips the pages, “ three times.”

 

“I was walking home.”

 

“Moonbyul, come on--”

 

“From a job.”

 

“Really? What would this job be?” Solar laughs disbelievingly at the statement.

 

“A delivery.” Moonbyul stares straight at the cop. “A harmless delivery. I took the wrong road back.”

 

“You’re expecting me to believe that?”

 

“Why not?”

 

“So you’re saying, you were coming back from making a harmless delivery, and then while you were heading back, you just happened to end up in the crossfire of a gang territory dispute?”

 

“That sounds about right. I’m the victim here, Solar. You think I would take three bullets for a lie?”

 

Solar scoffs, but she puts the notepad back into her pocket. “If you say so. I know you won’t say much more than that. Damn stubborn. I’m going to take your statement back to the station now. Wheein?”

 

“I-I’ll stay a bit longer. Ask her some more.”

 

“Suit yourself. Hope I don’t have to see you again, Moonbyul, either here or in jail.” Solar gives her a parting wave. “Get well soon, though.”

 

After Solar’s gone, Moonbyul mutters, “You should have just gone with her.”

 

“Too eager to see Miss Nurse again? The one who calls you love?” She clicks her tongue while dragging a chair next to the bed to sit on. “Better company than me?”

 

“Wheein, that’s not the point. You should stop working this case.”

 

“I come worried about you and this is what I get? You telling me to go away?”

 

Moonbyul turns her face towards the other side of the bed. “I’m telling you to be safe.”

 

“Well that’s some advice you should really consider yourself, you know? Three bullets? Three?” Her voice wavers, ruining her attempt to keep her voice stern. “Y-You could have died.”

 

“Lucky me eh?”

 

“How can you just brush off something like that? Have you ever thought about who you’ll leave behind? What will Hwasa do?”

 

She can see remorse weighing down Moonbyul’s shoulders. She slips her hand onto Moonbyul’s palm and see those trembling eyes turns towards her and their intertwined fingers.

 

“What will I do, Moonbyul?” There's dead silence at her words and it frightens her at how expressionless Moonbyul is. It almost seems likely that the girl will reject her. Again. She's not sure if her heart can take it.

 

Finally, Moonbyul murmurs, “Why do you have to make it so hard for me to say no?”

 

She responds. “Why won't you let me love you?”

 

“I’m a liar. A cheat at life. Why should I be loved?”

 

“You're more than that.”

 

“Really, Wheein? Are you sure you're not just fixated on me because I'm so good at lying? Aren't you just perplexed at how your years of research just won't answer and explain what I am? Am I going to see my name as 'patient m’ in some future paper of yours?”

 

“You're deflecting and being ridiculous. Is it that hard to believe I care?” She leans over the tense, prone body, hand still tightly clasped with Moonbyul's. “Look at me. Stop looking away.”

 

Moonbyul turns eyes of an endless void towards her, and she feels herself getting in by the lightless expanse. It can't be right, can't be normal, for the dilated pools of black to be so cold. However, she can see a warmth threatening to seep in from the edges and Moonbyul trying so desperately to pretend it isn't there.

 

She wants to see what those chilly glass pupils look like shattered. She wants to see how that night sky will look like dotted with stars.

 

She wants to help Moonbyul see it too.

 

“I'll ask one more time, Moonbyul.” Both of Moonbyul's freezing hands are slowly warming up within her grip. “And I'm going to watch you closer than I've watched anyone when you answer me.”

 

Face inches apart, she asks in a neutral, steady tone, “Do you really want me to go away? Do you really believe I only think of you as a case? Do you really think I don't love you?”

 

She pauses, letting her words sink in and watches Moonbyul's eyes flicker.

 

“Do you really not love me back?”

 

This silence is so much heavier, so much quieter, so much longer, that she almost wants to be the one to pull away first. She's distressed at how probing the eyes in front of her are. It feels as though she is the one being torn down, picked clean of her secrets.

 

It's a game then, to see who will break down first. She can tell Moonbyul's never lost such a match in her life. But maybe she'll be the first to break those walls and let her free.

 

“Yes.”

 

Wheein’s lips quirk up at the corners. “Really? You're saying that you don't love me either?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“If that isn't a lie, then I don't know what is.” Flushed cheeks, drawn eyebrows, flared nostrils, and lips folded inwards to hide a truth she knows is dying to burst out.

 

“...”

 

“You're starting to get easy to read.”

 

Then she sees it. Moonbyul breaking. Cold eyes being flooded by a rush of hot tears that seem so foreign in the face that screams of utmost confidence.

 

But there's no confidence now. There's only unsurety in the lost, searching gaze.

 

She’ll help Moonbyul find her way.

 

“Take it slow. I can wait,” she says, rubbing circles on the back of Moonbyul's hands with her thumbs. “Don't be afraid.”

 

“I-I---”

 

“Oh my. Am I interrupting something?” Suddenly, the curtain is pulled to the side to reveal a chillingly beautiful woman. The simple words seem almost threatening from the mouth of derisive mockery that adorns the newcomer's mouth.

 

“Krystal.” Moonbyul's hands tightens over hers. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Aw. Can't I even come visit an injured friend? I was worried.”

 

“Sure. Sure you were. Enjoy the sight?”

 

“You're so grumpy today, aren't you? Not really making a good first impression for this lady here. Introduce me?”

 

Wheein shivers unconsciously when the eyes turn to her. Like Moonbyul's, they are dark and hard, but she can't find anything else within those orbs

 

“She's a friend.”

 

“Like the kind of friend you and I once were?” Krystal smirks.

 

“I'm Wheein.” She extends a hand and is shocked at the iciness in the hand that shakes hers.

 

“As you may have been able to tell, I'm Krystal. Pleased to meet you.”

 

Lie. Though Krystal is sly, she's not nearly as good as Moonbyul. Maybe this will be a chance to find out more. Because she's almost certain that the 'she’ Moonbyul mentioned before is right before her.

 

“How did you meet Moonbyul?”

 

“We're partners. Business partners.”

 

Truth. “You two must be close, for you to come visit her in the hospital.”

 

Krystal laughs. “Oh, we are close. We enjoy each other's company often enough, don't we?”

 

There's a mix of things she reads in that sentence, but she's not sure which is true and which is false. It doesn't help either that Moonbyul's grip has turned vice like and is squeezing the blood out of her hands. There's no mistaking the boiling enmity resonating from the hospitalized girl.

 

“You've seen me. You can go, Krystal.”

 

“Tsk tsk. It seems I'm a little unwanted at the moment. I'll come back some other time then.”

 

Before Krystal leaves, Wheein blurts out, “Do you know how Moonbyul ended up the hospital?”

 

“Not the faintest idea. It was nice meeting you Wheein.” Krystal steps away with a strange lightness in her step.

 

Lie. A damn lie. Krystal must be involved. She needs to ask Moonbyul, but the girl's face won't let her. It's turned a ghastly white that actually looks sickly enough to belong in the hospital.

 

“Wheein. Don't pursue this lead.”

 

“But didn't you see? She was clearly lying--”

 

“Please. You said you'd wait.” Moonbyul in a shaking breath. “This...just wait. I need to figure it out.”

 

“Promise me though. Promise you won't just run away.” She searches Moonbyul's eyes for the answer.

 

“I promise.”

 

---

 

Moonbyul

 

The sensation of holding a gun is different from her expectations. But then again, she's never thought she would ever pick up a gun in her life. The cold metal bites against her palm, almost snarling, as if it knows what will happen next.

 

24 hours. That’s the time limit Krystal has given her and Hwasa. She knows Krystal can be cruelly punctual, and if she shows up a minute late, she’ll only be able to greet Hwasa’s still warm body, blood and life ebbing away from a single gunshot wound.

 

It’s 7:50pm, according to her phone. 10 minutes before she has to confront Krystal. 10 minutes until her haphazard plan unfolds, once Krystal realizes she has come alone. The girl is crazy to think she would ever comply with that request. Not even with Hwasa’s life on the line.

 

The gun in her hand still feels unfamiliar despite the few hours she’s spent on the shooting range with it. However, as long as she can hit the slender Krystal from a few yards, she doesn’t mind. She’s pretty sure Krystal’s only brought Amber along as a bodyguard for this meeting. And Amber will be the only one armed between the two. There’s no way they expect her to also have a gun. After all, it goes against everything she’s ever done to avoid it.

 

Shoot Krystal first. That’s the plan. Krystal must die for all this chasing, the games, to end. When Krystal falls, Amber will turn her gun from Hwasa to her and shoot. But before that, she should be able to pop another shot to at least injure the girl. She’s trained in self defense with Hwasa, so the girl will be able to manage after that by herself and escape. It’s a messy plan, but deceptively foolproof. It just all relies on people acting the way she expects them to in the situation.  

 

She opens the door, gun hidden behind her. It’s 7:58.

 

“You’re just on time for the party.” Krystal’s laughter is unusually sincere. It’s terrifying and makes her confidence crumble.

 

She learns why when she walks in and sees the entirety of the room. There’s four people in the room, not three. Krystal and Amber. And two chairs in the center.

 

Hwasa. And Wheein. Both tied down.

 

“Surprised, Moonbyul? It’s been a fun game.”

 

“What the hell is she doing here?” Her immediate plan goes straight down the drain when Wheein’s scared eyes meet hers.

 

“I tossed out some bait, and this sweet, sweet little girl here gobbled it right up. Even coming here of her own accord.” Krystal walks by the girl and pats Wheein’s cheek.

 

“Get your hands off her.”

 

“Ok. Jumpy, jumpy.” Her hands up in mock surrender, Krystal smirks at Moonbyul, enjoying how mentally unstable she’s made her. “Looks like you need another leash. And it appears we got one right here.”

 

“Don’t you--”

 

“This girl, Wheein. She’s a bit different from the other girl’s you’ve been with.” She plays with Wheein’s hair and the girl flinches. Moonbyul starts towards her, but Amber’s brandished gun holds her back. “Her heart’s in the right place. Or maybe it’d be better to say in the wrong place. But she came, for you. You and I know what that means.”

 

“She’s got nothing to do with this.”

 

“But you’ve got everything to do with this. It’s all connected, don’t you see?”

 

“It’s connected to you. That’s what I see.”

 

“Woah.” Krystal’s eyebrows shoot up when Moonbyul whips out her gun and points it at her. “What’s the meaning of this?” 

 

“You cut the problem at the root. That’s one rule you and I both live by.”

 

“So which one will you sacrifice for that?”

 

Krystal slowly circles the room with her hands up. But each step oozes confidence and triggers another pang of doubt in Moonbyul’s gun hand.

 

“Don’t worry about me.” Hwasa’s barely conscious, from whatever drug they’ve doped her up with. With the state Hwasa’s in right now, she’s in no shape to fight.

 

But Krystal’s gone too far. Moonbyul can end it right now, so it won’t happen again. So others won’t have to suffer.

 

Wheein whimpers, “Don’t do it Moonbyul.”

 

“Don’t do it,” mocks Krystal. “You hear that? Your girlfriend is saying it. Don’t. Do. It.”

 

“Wheein.” She doesn’t look at the girl, for she’s focused on Krystal and Amber, but she can feel her gaze. “You don’t understand. No matter how well you can read people, there’s no point if you can’t understand them. So what if you can tell if Krystal is lying? You’ve still fallen into her trap.”

 

“Right. Right,” nods Krystal.

 

“You shut up. Wheein, this is the only way. You’ve seen how cunning Krystal is. She’s the one person you want off the streets. So I’ll do the cops a favor.” She tightens her grip.

 

“So I’m the who doesn’t understand?”

 

“Just--”

 

“Did I misunderstand you too, Moonbyul? You’ll shoot her? Just like that? So is that who you are?”

 

“The cops will never get to her. She never leaves anything behind. So who else will do it?”

 

“Not you. There’s still time. Please, Moonbyul,” she begs.

 

Krystal interjects, eyes darkening over, “Time for what, girl?” She jerks her chin and Amber directs her gun muzzle to the side of Wheein’s head. “Time for what?” she repeats.

 

“Stop moving Krystal or I swear--”

 

“Don’t shoot!”

 

Somehow, Moonbyul knows the cry is directed at her, not Amber. The puzzle pieces don’t fit in her mind, and the incongruity of Wheein’s words in the situation parts some of the fog in her brain. What if…

 

The briefest possibility flits across her mind.

 

The gun in her hand drops a few inches.

 

“What’s wrong, Moonbyul? Thought you said you’d shoot me.” Krystal scowls. “Guess we’ll just shoot Wheein first--”

 

A stampede of feet precedes an army of heavily armed men barreling straight through the wooden door.

 

“Freeze! Drop your guns and put your hands up! Now!”

 

Suddenly, the pieces fall into place. Moonbyul kneels down, hands tugged up behind her head as she, Krystal, and Amber are cuffed and taken away. Wheein’s eyes are promising something, desperately trying to maintain contact with hers. She wonders what it is. But it doesn’t matter now.

 

-----

Wheein

 

“Popcorn?” she calls, voice echoing through the apartment.

 

“Oooh. Yes. Hurry up, alright?”

 

“Che. Telling me to hurry up in my own home.” She can’t help the blinding grin on her face though, as she pops the bag into the microwave.

 

It’s been weeks after the incident, and everything’s gone back to normal. The smuggling case is wrapped up, her hours at the station have trickled down, and she’s finally back to a normal sleep schedule.

 

Everything is the same. Except one thing.

 

“It’s starting!”

 

“I’m coming~” Wheein takes the bag and bounds into the living room, where Moonbyul is sprawled out on her couch. “Move.”

 

“There’s plenty of space right here. Sit.”

 

She lets out a huff but wiggles in while Moonbyul helps hold the bag of popcorn. “Gimme the bag.”

 

“Nice and snug eh.” Moonbyul chuckles as she wraps her now free hands around Wheein’s waist and tugs her closer. “Even snugger.” She yelps as Wheein slaps her with a free hand.

 

“Focus. And watch those hands!” Her hands slap downwards now, aimed at Moonbyul’s roaming fingers. “Thought you said it was starting.”

 

“It is. Don’t understand why we have to waste this night watching a lame old press conference,” whines Moonbyul.

 

She pops a piece of popcorn between Moonbyul’s pouting lips, giggling as the girl gasps and nearly spits out the hot puffed kernel. “Thought you’d want to see Krystal getting put away for good. It’ll be a therapeutic experience.”

 

“But I wanted to watch something more...romantic.” Moonbyul buries her face in the crook of Wheein’s neck and grumbles.

 

“Is seeing your ex behind bars not romantic enough for you?”

 

“Only for you,” mutters Moonbyul.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I love the idea. Now, more popcorn please.”

 

She rolls her eyes, but one look at Moonbyul’s lips over her shoulder impels her to toss in a few more pieces before her self control decides otherwise. They’ll have time for that later.

 

On screen, a video of Krystal being hauled away in chains shows up. Wheein’s hands immediately go towards the pair wrapped around her body, reassuring herself that Moonbyul is safe and there with her. A happy hum vibrates through the chest behind her and she relaxes, nuzzling closer.

 

Had Moonbyul really fired her gun that night, it would be a whole different story. But luckily, the lack of action and evidence, along with her testimony and a few pulled strings, led to the girl’s prompt release.

 

Her and Moonbyul. Moonbyul and her. It all still feels unreal to her. Being together with the girl who no longer runs away, but accepts and responds. This girl who’s returned to a childish, yet greasy personality that enjoys teasing her day and night.

 

She knows it’s different from her previous relationships when she’s always that thrilled to wake up to Moonbyul’s smile and to know what’s in store. Even if it’s just a day of lazing around talking to each other. There’s still more of Moonbyul’s she’s curious about. But now she has the time to figure it out or let Moonbyul tell her. They have all the time they need.

 

Somehow, in the middle of the press conference, they’ve lost interest in the endless questions of the reporters and the bland answers by the chief of police. The sparks lighting up the pixels on TV are far weaker than those flying between them as they let loose inhibitions, common sense, and random articles of clothing.

 

“I love you, Moonbyul.”

 

“Me too.”

 

She leans back and her bare skin is chilled by the lack of warmth from Moonbyul’s body, but she forcefully juts her lip in a pout. “Say it. Say it to me. You’ve never said it.”

 

“Does it really matter? You know my feelings for you.”

 

“I want to hear it from you.” She has to hear it. To know Moonbyul’s different from all those nights ago, when those three simple words struck such fear within her. “Please, Moonbyul.”

 

Moonbyul leans forward and captures Wheein’s lips, whispering the words in between a shared breath.

“I love you too.”

 

 

---

*A/N Thanks for comments, subscriptions, and votes! And thanks again fairooz for the wonderful story idea. Prompts, ideas, requests are always welcome!

Thanks for reading-