It hasn't even been a week.

But apparently, Solar is so eager to introduce her boyfriend to her that she can't wait any longer.

She says they're so in love.

Moonbyul can only try and contort her face into anything resembling a smile when Eric is brought up. Which is more often than she’d like. How Solar hasn't been able to see past her clearly forced expressions and not subtle grimaces is a miracle.

Maybe love does blind you.

It certainly blinds herself from accepting the fact that this Eric Nam has wriggled in and planted himself so firmly into this new life with Solar that she has been dreaming of for so long. She can’t, no she won’t, see this so called love behind the roses Eric gifts Solar, the ones sitting on their living room table and thriving despite her withering gaze. Or the little cubes of dark chocolate within a fancily wrapped box, also sitting on the coffee table untouched, because Solar obviously doesn’t eat dark chocolate. But it’s from Eric so it’ll just stay there and mock Moonbyul whenever she sits down in the mornings to brew her tea.

Is it stupid of her? To have hoped, to have believed that it would all turn out the way she’d imagined it. To just step right back into the routine of best friends, of comfort on lonely nights, of waking up not dreading the day before her.

But she’s just spending her days eating cold, reheated food, from meals she’d made for two. Solar’s always eating with Eric.

And now, despite her clear reluctance and hasty excuses, she's at a fancy restaurant with Solar and Eric, wondering if the flirting couple across from her can see anything beyond the cheesy mouthfuls of pasta they feed each other, well seasoned with a overbearing dose of giggles and unnecessary skinship.

“Come on babe, try some more of mine.” Eric makes an excessive show of blowing on the already cooled noodles that he’s twirled around his fork and winds it in a childish path towards Solar’s parted lips. They haven’t stopped laughing since they arrived.

Thank god that Wheein and Hwasa are there with her. If not for them, her violently jittering legs would have probably just sprung into overdrive and dragged her straight out the door.

It's a bad habit, she knows. Running away from her troubles.

But it looks like this one will just follow her back home.

She grabs her glass of wine from the table and just holds the stem of the glass, swirling the liquid around. In between the sloshing of the red, she can see Solar and Eric. A distorted view for sure, but it is still an undeniably realistic one. Eric and Solar. Solar and Eric. Laughing. Touching. Eyes so glued on each other the magnetic field of attraction surrounding them would probably repel her if she tried to edge too close.

So why did Solar invite her again? It’s not like she’s been able to say more than a few meaningless words of introduction to Eric before the two skipped back into whatever pastel-colored world they’ve created for themselves.

Wheein and Hwasa seem pretty done being the 3rd, 4th, 5th wheels along with her. The two have been doing their best to engage poor, awkward, her in conversation throughout dinner, once noticing Solar's immediate distraction by Eric. They don't seem too surprised though.

They’re more resigned than anything. It probably isn't the first time Solar's been too enamored by her boyfriend to care about the friends she's with.

Wheein and Hwasa, her new housemates, are definitely some of the best people she's ever met. They'll get along great in the future, she’s sure.

However, now, in this table of 5, where on one side sits an self-absorbed couple, and the other a pair of best friends who may be something more, she can't help but feel just a little lost.

While conversations buzz around her, she begins to take small sips. She's never been much of a talker, anyways. She’s never really had the chance to, or felt safe enough to just speak her mind in these situations, so she just begins to watch the others.

Or more like, watch Solar.

She wonders why Solar has put on so much makeup today. She's beautiful, of course. She's always been beautiful, at least to her. The makeup is really unnecessary and over the top, with the layers on layers of cream and smoky eyeshadow. Solar literally spent hours in the bathroom getting ready. And then a few more trying on dresses and asking for her opinion.

It wouldn’t have made a difference. Solar always makes anything look good. Those hours spent watching her childhood friend and crush get absolutely ecstatic over looking gorgeous for someone else, someone not her…

She wonders if the small crackling she’s hearing is from the thin line zigzagging down the glass or her own heart.

Solar's laugh. She doesn't quite know how to process or even approach this abrupt, irreconcilable difference. Should she feel satisfied that not once tonight has Solar let out that unrestrained guffaw or laughed so hard that tears squeeze out the corners of her eyes and she's bent over double? The laugh that she believes is hers exclusively, because only with her has Solar opened up to that degree?

Or should she frustrate herself deciphering the meaning behind Solar's girly giggles and subdued sighs? After all, that is something she’s never seen. Not for the twelve years she’s known her.

There's a new side of Solar that’s starting to peek behind veils of expectation and memories. A more introverted side that stares off into nothing at random, that fusses with her personal appearance whenever a reflective surface appears, that faintly smiles with hints of wispy secrets she has no intention of sharing.

It's not the Solar she remembers. It irks her. It’s almost like someone--someone being Eric--has taken Solar and remolded her. Altered her into something unrecognizable. Moonbyul admits - it’s almost petty in a way, as if her favorite toy has been stolen from her.

But Solar’s not a toy. And she’s not just being petty. Solar has really changed.

Why is he the one to have all of Solar? Her attention, her love, and maybe even something more.

Moonbyul lets her hand holding the empty wine glass fall back down on the table a little too harshly. The glass resonates against wood with a sharp crack.

Wheein and Hwasa look up abruptly mid-conversation. Wheein's eyes are directed towards her, and they widen under furrowed brows with a silent query, asking if she's ok.

But Moonbyul's eyes are still trained on Solar. The one glass of wine has done nothing to her but stir the simmering fury of having to even be there. Her taut cheeks are pale cold and colorless, but it goes unnoticed by the one she longs for.

Maybe, it was too much to hope for.

Just a single glance of acknowledgement.

Moonbyul motions the waiter over to refill her glass and casts her eyes away from the couple in resignation.

Not one week in, she's already clear of the new picture.

In this new ranking, she's not even worth looking at.

When Solar's been the only one she's ever looked at.

-----




 

"ing damn, Moonbyul." Krystal takes the now empty cup from Moonbyul's hand and stacks it onto the growing pile in front of them. "You’ll probably drink this whole house dry yourself."

"Just get me another drink please," she groans. "Something stronger."

"Fine."

Krystal wanders off by weaving in between the hot mess of bodies in the house. While she is gone, Moonbyul sinks back into a couch that looks like it’s gone through World War II and just lets herself go. She stares blankly into the scene in front of her, muttering a curse under her breath at the fact that she is still too sober to deal with her emotions right now.

She would have never pegged herself for a partying type of girl, but when Solar decides to bring Eric over for the third time in one week, it's past the time for thinking about consequences, as long as she can get out of there.

Solar doesn’t even spare her an extra glance and just utters a generic warning to not stay out too late before leading Eric by the hand into her--their-- room.

"Here's one for you, and one for me."

Krystal's back, and she plunges down into the couch right next to her, liquid audibly sloshing around. Moonbyul grunts a brief thanks and downs it in one gulp, much to an amazed Krystal, who’s taking small sips out of her own cup.

“This is nasty,” she groans as she sinks down lower into couch, arms sprawled out haphazardly as she finally feels the effects start to kick in. The room’s kind of shaking, kind of spinning, kind of covered by plumes of colored smoke, but somehow, she’s feeling right at home. Not like home was ever something she wanted to come back to. Not then, not now.

“So why the drinking?”

“What?” She turns to look at Krystal, whose eyebrow is raised a fraction of an inch and nearly imperceptible. Much more considering her deteriorating state.

“People drink for different reasons. Most people here are looking to unwind after the week. Some are obviously here looking to get laid. But you’ve just been drinking by yourself since you got here.” Krystal tugs the dangling cup out of her grip and scoots closer, body pressing against Moonbyul’s side.

Moonbyul doesn’t quite process how close Krystal is until she shifts her position and her arm falls from the back of the sofa and wraps so nicely around Krystal’s waist.

Krystal doesn’t move away.

Maybe it’s the drinks turning her voice just a little bit flirty, just a little bit sleazy. She chuckles, “Why do you think I drink then?”

“You’re lonely.” Krystal’s response is brief and her free hand begins to trail up Moonbyul’s thigh, leaving a trail of fire and want. “Who are you trying to drink away?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because whoever it is must be an idiot.” Krystal climbs fully onto Moonbyul’s lap, straddling her waist, and uses her finger to tilt Moonbyul’s chin up to look at her. “And you must be just as stupid, to still love them so much even though you’re hurt.”

The sounds from the house turn to a low buzz and the surroundings are blurry except for the crystalline beauty and icy voice of the girl on top of her.

“What am I supposed to do then?” She’s almost pleading. She’s completely lost from her emotions, in her emotions, and the only sure thing right now is Krystal’s presence.

She’s here. Krystal’s here.

Solar’s not.

“Forget for a night.” Krystal breathes the words perilously close to Moonbyul’s lips and when they meet her own, she doesn’t pull away.

Forget? Can she forget Solar? Can she forget a memory that’s wound its roots into the very fabric of her existence?

Even while her eyes close and she tilts her head to mold her lips against Krystal’s, breathing in the heavy aura of alcohol surrounding them both, hands sliding down Krystal’s bare lower back, Solar’s all she can think about. How right this moment, Solar and Eric are probably in the same position as her and Krystal.

Frustrated, she deepens the kiss, tongue tangling with Krystal’s as her hands roam over Krystal’s willing body. She’s so riled up by the thought of the couple. It’s almost as if this were a sort of revenge against Solar. As if she were cheating.

But who is she kidding. She and Solar aren’t together. Solar doesn’t give a about who she sleeps with. Solar doesn’t know. She’s never told her.

All of a sudden, Krystal draws away, and Moonbyul can only blink dumbly at the pursed lips she was kissing only seconds ago.

“So, Solar?”

Her jaw drops open, and she probably looks even dumber than before. “I-- what--”

“You mumbled her name earlier.” Krystal climbs off Moonbyul’s legs and drops with a sigh back onto the couch next to her.

“Oh I’m sorry-”

“Well you’re a great kisser even wasted. But I don’t really feel in the mood anymore.” Krystal shrugs and nonchalantly wipes the corner of Moonbyul’s eyes.

Tears? She reaches up to her other eye, and sure enough, a thin line of liquid spills onto her finger.

Maybe that’s the reason the room looks so blurry right now. She rubs at her eyes to clear her view, wondering where the tears came from. She’s never been one to cry, especially in public.

She takes a deep breath and tries to discern the lines and edges in the room, but she’s too far gone. Goddamn Solar this is all her fault. And then it’s like she’s trying to blink underwater again.

She just decides to close her eyes instead of trying to stop the flood of frustration. “I’m sorry Krystal.”

“Just wasn’t the right night.” Krystal stands and stretches with a yawn. “Didn’t realize the party was dying down anyways.  Will you be able to get home safely? No offense, but you look like .”

She laughs self-deprecatingly. “I’ll manage.”

At that moment, her phone decides to vibrate within her pocket and she fumbles trying to pull it out without dropping it. It takes her another few seconds to blink away the tears and read the caller ID.

Solar.

Suddenly, her breath’s caught in and she can literally hear the pounding of her heart rattling her poor ribcage. She feels like a deer caught in headlights, and she turns towards Krystal in panic. Why in the world would Solar be calling her right now? And why did she assume Krystal would be able to help her?

Krystal sighs in exasperation before snatching the phone away and sliding the green bar right.

“Hello? No, this isn’t Moonbyul. I’m Krystal. She’s a little too out of it to answer right now. Could you come pick her up?” After giving Solar the address, she hangs up and throws the phone back into Moonbyul’s lap.

She can only watch the exchange mutely and her head takes a few long seconds to process the short phone conversation.

Solar. Her, drunk. Pick up--

“WAIT A ING MINUTE!” She shoots up out of the couch, phone nearly crashing against the floor, and points a shaking finger at Krystal. “Solar’s coming? Here? Why did you tell her to?”

“Look at yourself.”

“Oh my god-- you know what tell her she doesn’t have to come.” She s her phone back at Krystal, who smirks.

“Like hell I will. You can tell her yourself.” She saunters towards the exit, pausing at the door frame. “You know, Moonbyul…”

“What,” she grumpily responds.

“I hope you get things figured out. It’s not good to keep everything bottled in. Believe me, I know.” With a swish, she is gone, leaving a very disgruntled and confused Moonbyul behind.

Solar walks in, lines of worry etched on a face that was giggling happy hours before. There is not a second of respite for Moonbyul to think about Krystal’s parting words before Solar drags her by the wrist jerkily towards the door in a hurry.

Damn. She’s too drunk to deal with the problem right now. Namely Solar.

Maybe she had a shot too many, because she swears her brain’s lagging in real time. With one slow blink, she finds herself onto the empty, poorly lit asphalt, with the object of her dreams and nightmares before her.

Arms crossed. Foot tapping. And could that be a glare or a frown on the trembling lips? She hopes for either. It would at least mean Solar has been thinking of her.

Speaking of which--

“What are you doing here?” she breathes out with a pungent cloud of alcohol. “Thought you were spending the night with Eric.”

“Eric left.” Solar bites her lip in frustration. With a sigh, she steps closer and tries to pat down the wrinkles in Moonbyul’s clothing and straighten out the disheveled edges.

It’s only then that Moonbyul realizes she’s in a slight state of undress. Thanks Krystal, she inwardly groans. She backs from Solar’s touch and with numbed, clumsy fingers, struggles with buttoning the remainder of her shirt.

“It’s 4 am. What are you doing out so late?” Solar growls, disappointment laced throughout her words.

“It should be pretty obvious.”

“Maybe I should have rephrased that,” snaps Solar. “Why were you out so late? This...this isn’t like you! Don’t you know---”

The rest of Solar’s rant goes mostly unheard. Her head’s pounding, ’s dry, and eyes are biting from the cold. The frozen stumps of what were fingers, shoved into her jeans pockets, have lost all feeling and she wonders if maybe she should just slap herself across the face to wake them up and wake herself up from this drunk stupor.

Because apparently, she’s not the only one irritated.

She chokes on the air she’s been focusing on breathing in and out when Solar’s face plants itself inches from her own. Chocolate irises colored bitter by the lack of attention, snow white cheeks simmering red from anger, moist pink lips spilling reproach.

Yeah, she should feel guilty. After all, Solar looks pretty upset. And it is her fault that she never said where she went.

But all she can think about how ridiculous, how absurd, how unfair that Kim Yongsun can look so stunning under the slim crescent of a fall moon, scolding her like a child caught breaking curfew.

“My god, how much did you drink? Can you even understand what I’m saying right now?” Solar digs into the bag she brought with her and comes up with a water bottle. “Here. Stay hydrated.” Solar looks around in concern, eyes lighting up once she sees a bench a short distance away. “Let’s have you sit down for now.”

She follows. Blindly, mutely, because anywhere Solar goes, of course she’ll follow.

When they are sitting ,she unscrews the bottle cap messily, staining a cold, dark patch on her jeans.

“,” she mumbles. But when Solar softly chuckles, she just laughs along, annoyance instantly forgotten.

One sip turns into a gulp, and then a desperate downing of the entire bottle when she realizes how thirsty she really is.

In more ways than one.

When the empty bottle is between her hands, plastic crumbling in her grip, she finally notices how quiet Solar has been. The silence is suffocating and so unlike their normal interaction, that she mentally scrambles for something to say and fill the void.

“So um how did you find me?”

Solar just gives her a look, and an eye roll. . That’s right. Krystal answered.

She is clearly not sober enough for interaction, much less with her crush of over a decade. She should have heeded the warning bells then. Half-drunk minds are just as bad as drunk minds when it comes to slip-ups with secrets.

But they come with extra dose of guilt and regret that can’t be laughed off the next day.

“This Krystal…” Solar trails her fingers along the knotted wood of the bench, eyes cast downward. “Was she--”

“It was just an accident! We didn’t do anything serious, It was just a kiss, I swear--” she blurts.

Solar looks up and she feels panic and horror flitting across her face at the inscrutable gaze she’s given. If only she is sober enough to not be blind to whatever hole’s she’s digging for herself.

“Oh.” Solar’s reply is soft and measured.

The grip she maintains on the blob of plastic draws out all the blood from her knuckles. In the lamplight, she looks down and sees her fingers trembling and knees jittering. She doesn’t know which is scarier: Solar not reacting to what happened with Krystal, or not caring at all. “I just lost track of time.”

“Guess that’s also Krystal’s fault?”

“No! I mean, I didn’t know..” She rubs at her eyes, trying to buy time to find a decent excuse that will wipe the seriousness off Solar’s face, or at the very least gain back the trust she knows she’s lost tonight.

“I was worried about you! You didn’t tell any of us where you went! And then you decide to go off to god knows where till god knows when? You know how worried Wheein and Hwasa also are? They stayed up with me, waiting for you to call, text, or even answer!”

“I’m not a ing kid, Solar--”

“Don’t you dare start swearing at me--”

“Then why don’t you stop feeling the need to monitor my movements 24/7--”

“I’m just looking out for you--”

“You’re just ing suffocating me!” In anger, she flings the crumpled plastic to the side and leaps to her feet. “Everything you do, all the time! I can’t even do anything without thinking twice! And don’t give me that crap about feeling the need to watch me for my sake.Besides, I was giving you and Mr. Perfect Eric Nam the alone time you wanted anyways.” She spits out the last words, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, eyes narrowing the moment his name slips between her lips.

She should shut up. She really should.

“Why do you always bring up Eric? It’s not his fault! Actually, why do you dislike him so much? He hasn’t done anything to you--”

“Anything? Anything?” constricts as she listens to Solar’s adamant defense of her boyfriend and the night cold crawls up her arms and legs.

It has always been her.

Solar’s always been there for her.

She can always trust Solar.

She’d do anything for Solar.

But now, Solar’s first response is not for her sake.

Even when Solar says she’s ‘worried’, the worry is not for her alone.

It had always been her.

Now it’s him.

“He stole you.”

Another silence befalls the two.

This time, confusion and hurt flicker in Solar’s eyes. She’s pretty sure her own face is a statue as of the moment.

And this time, Solar is the one who breaks the silence first, discomfort radiating off her small figure.

“I-I didn’t realize you thought that way. I mean, I know I’ve been spending most of my time with him! I should have really spent more time with you, help you get adjusted and everything. It’s not that I prioritize Eric over my friendship with you but--”

Friendship. She chuckles, but the sounds are so hollow, so lifeless, that even Solar looks a little alarmed and stumbles to her feet, hand reaching for her.

“Moonbyul, are you ok--”

“I love you.”

“Moonbyul--”

“I’ve always loved you. Ever since we were kids.”

It’s Solar’s turn to chuckle awkwardly, patting Moonbyul’s shoulder, saying “You still seem to be drunk. I think we should go home now before anything else happens.”

It’s a shame she’s finally started to sober up too. Sober her realizes that maybe Krystal’s earlier advice was sound. But there’s a right time and a right place for it.

Now is neither of those.

When she doesn’t immediately follow Solar, who’s turned and shuffled a few steps in the direction of their apartment, the other girl turns back around with a frown.

Moonbyul can finally see.

She wonders how she could have missed it before.

Solar’s eyes are near screaming and begging her to just go along without another word. Play the game. Play the fool. Play the dumb, drunk, idiot who incoherently babbles words that are just on the spur of the moment and meaningless.

Looks like Solar doesn’t want to hear that those words were rehearsed years ago. And that each letter is loaded with memories of the smiles Solar entice from her, with dreams of the laughter that they would have shared over secrets huddled beneath a blanket.

She closes her eyes. It’s vexing, how many times she’s cried lately.

All because of the same person.

“I’ll take that as a no then. It’s a pretty harsh rejection though.” When she’s sure she has her voice and tears under control, she gradually opens her eyes only to see Solar abruptly divert her glance.

Solar says nothing and does not move.

“I’m going to sleep over at a friend’s.” She’s been finishing these conversations quite often lately. It’s not really her thing, to talk so much. Or to have the last word over Solar.

It’s been a day of firsts.

She spins on one foot and heads in the opposite direction, hands shoved in whatever warm pocket there is, shoulders hunched to brace against the cold.

She’s oddly reminded of her middle school years, of running and fleeing from her troubles.

But is it worse to be broken physically and have someone to return to, or to be broken emotionally and have no one there to catch you?

Maybe part of it is her fault, to so wholly depend on a single person. To base her entire existence off of another’s when there is no guarantee of permanence for them.

Any second. Her heels strike asphalt, kicking up tiny pebbles as she walks down the center of the road. Any second, and Solar will call her back, come running after her to insistently bring her home. Maybe Solar will try to laugh it off as another drunken act, and maybe she’ll play along. It’s a safer bet. She’d be lying if she said the growing distance and silence isn’t scaring her.

Any second. She blows out a shaky breath, forming clouds of mist in the early dawn air. She pokes a finger at it, frowning at the way it dissipates so rapidly. So she blows another breath, but it disappears as quickly as the first.

Any second. She tilts her head up, surprised at the shades of orange climbing over the mountain peaks in the distance. Her and Solar must have spoken for far longer than she expected, and as if cued, a bird, then another, and another chirp in agreement

She feels the buzz of her phone in her pocket. She slides it out, the screen temporarily on and notifications showing:

From Solar: 1 new message

She knew it. Any second. As she swipes across the screen, plans and rehearsed words are racing through her aching head.

02

She feels really bad. She did kind of leave too abruptly earlier, and she has no doubt it made it worse. More like, it’ll be one more thing to explain. Her frozen fingers are still having difficulty inputting her pin.

21

How much will ‘being drunk’ explain away? It seems far-fetched, but Solar will probably buy it. She has a hunch Solar will buy it. She’s always been one to care, to notice when she’s uncomfortable, so she’ll see. She definitely cares.

91

She gets startled back to attention by a crass driver who’s likely pissed off about early work hours, and realizes that she’s somehow still standing in the middle of the road. She flips off the driver with a scowl and drags her feet to the sidewalk.

Just so she can finally read Solar’s text.

She shouldn’t have bothered.

S: See you later.

Some teenager taking his dog out for an early walk cringes as Moonbyul hurls her phone onto the sidewalk, screen shattering to a million pieces.

See you later.

The words pulsate with the rhythmic pounding of her hangover. She speeds up her walk, not thinking about how she has nowhere to go.

See you later.

It isn’t like she expected Solar to mention the confession. She was ready, so willing, to just pretend it was nothing for their sake.

It’s a question of what matters more and who cares more.

Moonbyul isn’t stupid. When you’re raised in a crappy environment, you’ll notice the things people try to hide.

Stuff like how practice doesn’t always make perfect.

Or like how people can’t always change.

The lights of a nearby diner burst to life along with the rise of the sun over the hills. The smells wafting out of the kitchens are tempting, and she finds her feet dragged along by the pull of her stomach.

It’s time to actually wake up.

Preferably with a steaming mug of coffee.

Black.

*Sorry for the long delay, and I honestly did not realize this story would end like this.

Thanks for reading and commenting!