*Wheein finds out what's holding her back.

---

 

Droplets of rain pour down in increasing frequency, mixing with the dirty asphalt dust of the paved roads. The murky puddles formed in the uneven cracks are ever growing and distort any reflection of the girl who trudges along the path.

 

It’s not like she spends any time looking down in them anyways. Her glassy eyes are focusing on something in the distance, something, anything that is in the opposite direction of the house she is stumbling away from.

 

She takes no heed of the blaring alarms, the red and blue lights flashing on the cars speeding past her. It’s not like she’s uncaring. But somehow, the urgency that usually accompanies those signals is repressed in the pouring rain. She knows where they’re going.

 

She’s going the other way.

 

Luckily for her, her haggard retreat goes unnoticed by each car that rushes past and each family that curiously braves the elements to step out and watch the situation unfold. In the distance, the cop cars congregate around a single house, officers already out and about, grumbling about the weather as they wrap yards of caution tape around the perimeter. There’s a single ambulance sitting by the side, where paramedics are struggling to haul the stretcher out and drag it accurately towards the house despite the slippery conditions.

 

She takes one final look back. Her wet hair is plastered to the sides of her head, specks of water dotting her pale face. She raises a hand and rubs at the area around her eyes, where the accumulation of liquid has obscured her eyesight. She drops the same hand to her lips, shaking forefinger drawing a line across her lips. Unconsciously, her tongue darts out and runs between her thinned lips.

 

Salty.

 

She intakes a sharp, damp breath of air, coughing on the rainfall tearing its way through her nose. Ignoring the pain in her stomach, throat, and now her lungs, she drags her feet forward towards the line of trees by the park. At this time of day and this kind of weather, there is no way there is anyone else there. Just what she needs.

 

Silence.

 

Solitude.

 

Time to reflect.

 

She chuckles bitterly to herself as she walks with renewed determination, freezing cold ripping its way through thin clothes inappropriate for the baby storm in the making.

 

Sounds of the commotion behind her dull the further she goes. The pitter patter of the rain becomes the only background music of her mindless trek.

 

When she steps over the line dividing concrete sidewalk and dirt field, she wavers in her steps and lurches forward, palm out to clutch at the nearest tree and recover her balance. Her chest heaves as she pauses for breath, leaning over with one hand holding on to the trunk of the tree for support.

 

After an unknown amount of time, she finally straightens, exhaling an invisible cloud of relief. Her hand drops to her side and before she continues, she momentarily glances towards the tree.

 

Even though the bark is soaked, even though there’s a curtain of rain blanketing her vision, there’s no mistaking the carving in the wood. Her hand trembles as it rises, as if possessed, and traces the crooked lines of a heart dug out by penknife. It’s just deep enough to weather whatever trials mother nature decides to throw at it. Made on the sunniest of days, with the brightest of smiles.

 

Her whole body shakes now, as her finger drags up from the bottom vertex of a heart to the letters etched inside.

 

W.

 

&.

 

She can’t. She tears her eyes and her body away from the tree, forcing down the chain of sobs that rack her body. Her legs are jelly now, barely supporting her as she forces herself through wet foliage and muddy dirt towards the center of the park.

 

It’s almost eerie, the emptiness that echoes throughout the playground. The swings creak slightly in the occasional rush of wind, chains worn out from years of use. The sound of rain striking the plastic of the slides thunder in her ears. The animal springers rock back and forth on their base, painted eyes and smile a superficial depiction of joy.

 

There are only ghosts here. Ghosts of memories of ecstatic children reveling in their freedom after school. Memories of parents talking animatedly under the shade of tree leaves while their children enjoyed a playdate. Memories of her own dates, when she would drag the shy, stubborn girl towards the seesaw or merry go round, forcing participation with a tiptoed kiss onto pouty lips.

 

Another pang of anguish rocks through her chest. With a clenched fist, she shuffles forward, eyes barely able to remain open from the force of the rain. When her fingers brush the cold railings of the merry go round, she lets exhaustion take over. She drops heavily onto the edge of the disk, legs dangling off the end and leans her tired body next to one of the hand-holds.

 

She digs her soaked feet into the ground beside the ride, gradually finding momentum. The rain is a great help in minimizing the friction that would have braked it too early. When it begins rotating at a decent speed, she tucks her feet up, folding them beneath her and closes her eyes.

 

And she remembers.

 

 

 

“Are you telling me this isn’t fun?” she says, delighted at the tightness with which the other girl grasps her waist to avoid falling. “Just spin, and spin, and spin. Wheeeeeeee!”

 

“I—oh god---I don’t want to die.”

 

She giggles. “Doesn’t it feel freeing? To have the wind blow through your hair. To have everything else around you turn to a blur while the only thing remaining crystal clear is the one next to you.”

 

“Romantic words indeed.”

 

“I learned from the very best.” The girl beside her smiles and reaches a hand to squish her beaming cheeks.

 

“Ok. Maybe this isn’t so bad. What I don’t get is how this…contraption can be made for kids. Don’t tell me this isn’t the slightest bit dangerous.”

 

“Don’t worry so much about that. Just think about us. And now.”

 

“I’m trying!”

 

“Says the one who complains every time we come here,” she sighs.

 

“I-I just don’t like being out too much.”

 

“No really.” She digs her nose into the other girl’s sweater, inhaling the sweet scent. “But it’s only fair we take turns to decide where we go for dates. If we left it to you, you’d never leave that cave you call home.”

 

“It’s a perfectly normal place! A cave…psh. I have everything we need there. Food, water, my laptop.”

 

“And?” she prompts, smirk on her face.

 

“And you, of course.”

 

She hides her unbridled smile in the girl’s chest, sticking close as the merry go round begins to grind to a halt. In a burst of spontaneity, she lifts her head to land a quick, chaste kiss on the taller girl’s lips.

 

“S-Stop it! We’re in public!” The other girl whispers hastily, pulling away to create a minimal distance between her reddening cheeks and an elated grin.

 

She knows, however, not to push her luck. “You shouldn’t worry so much.”

 

“It’s…we…just in case.” The response is weak, scared. “Let’s just wait until we get back to my place.”

 

“Then, let’s spin once again before we leave!” Ignoring the girl’s groans, she jumps off to get a running start and soon the ride sends the two bodies careening towards each other once again.

 

 

 

The drag of wind around her body slows, and she knows the ride is nearing its end. Her eyes remained closed, but no amount of force in those shut lids manages to hold back the torrential force of tears crashing against them. It’s getting harder to restrain her trembling shoulders, to swallow that sob, to unclench the mess of emotions tangling in her stomach.

 

There’s a bitterness in and .

 

“You should just cry if you need to cry.”

 

At first, she thinks she’s hallucinating. Who in their right mind would be out in the downpour? Certainly not anyone sane.

 

“The more you hold it in, the harder it gets to move on.”

 

Grudgingly, she opens her eyes as the merry-go-round slides to a complete stop.

 

Right in front of a curiously dressed woman.

 

It doesn’t quite look like rainwear. The long black coat that stretches down to her ankles covers nearly every inch of skin, save for the little patch revealed by ebony stilettos. On the top of her head lies a pitch black fedora, wide brims casting a dark shadow over the face beneath it. In fact, all she can really see are lips colored a dark reddish purple.

 

The stranger seems oddly unperturbed by the heavy rain that just slides slickly off her clothing. Unable to hold in her curiosity any longer, she asks the newcomer, “Why are you out here?”

 

“There was crying.”

 

“I-I wasn’t!” she retorts. “I never made any sound!”

 

“Not all expressions of sorrow are heard.” The lady in black stands stiffly, hands slipped into deep pockets. “You can’t hide everything.”

 

She growls in irritation. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

 

“I can’t do that.”

 

“For ’s sake!” She hauls herself to her feet, ready to storm across the playground to somewhere without the girl’s intrusive presence. “Can’t take a bloody hint,” she mutters.

 

She refuses to say another word and heads toward the seesaw. When near the end pointing towards the cloudy sky, she positions herself to sit on it sideways with legs dangling off the same side. Just to feel that solid drop back to earth and the emptiness that had been her balance in life.

 

But that drop never comes.

 

She’s still three feet off the ground, legs flailing in the empty air.

 

Her head jerks towards the other side of the seesaw and sees the same girl. Again.

 

“What the hell is your problem!” she screams, sound nearly getting buried under the rain.

 

“Lashing out won’t help.”

 

“And you think you will be able to help?” she scoffs.

 

“You’re obviously not in your right mind. Venturing out in this weather…” the girl’s voice trails off, frowning at the damp clothes hanging limply off her figure. “Let me help you get you to shelter and warm up.”

 

“Why should I even listen to you?”

 

The lady takes in a deep breath, eyes breaking out of the darkness to stare straight into hers. “Because, Wheein, you need to heal instead of breaking even further.”

 

Wheein freezes on top of the seesaw. She knows her name. How the hell does this lady know her name?

 

“W-Who are you?” she manages to squeak out, so softly she’s afraid the other girl won’t be able to hear. She blinks her eyes in the dim night light, trying to clear her vision and take a clearer glimpse at the girl on the other end, but it’s as if the darkness is alive and has swallowed any visible features of her face.

 

No answer.

 

“H-How do you know my name?” she tries again.

 

No answer.

 

“W-Why—“

 

Suddenly, the accumulation of fatigue finally decides to ram through her confused mind. Her questions remain questions and she’s lost control of the unknown strength that had kept her up until now. The slippery surface of the seesaw takes advantage of her sudden weakness and she’s falling, crashing into a ground that seems comparatively more distant than before.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flicker of black. The lady has rushed to her side with an uncanny quickness. Right before she loses consciousness, she feels an icy grip catching her before her head smashes into the ground.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

It’s dim yellow lighting and the rich aroma of soup she wakes up to.

 

Wheein yawns, stretches her hands above her head, marveling at the fluffiness and warmth of the duvet covering her body. She skims a now dry and warm hand over the top, black felt sinking under her touch.

 

But it’s not hers.

 

She shoots up to a sitting position when the doorknob clicks and it creaks open. From the opening comes a tray of food, balanced precariously in the hands of the lady of last night. This time, the lady has switched her trench coat for a skintight black dress. Her hat is also missing, revealing short, bobbed hair that is as dark as her clothing.

 

“Since you’re awake, you should eat up.” She places the tray by the bed, motioning for Wheein to dig in. When there is no movement from the bed, she chuckles and daintily picks up a spoon. “I haven’t done anything to the food. Look.” She gathers a spoonful of soup and brings it to her red lips, swallowing it clean while maintaining eye contact with Wheein.

 

Wheein reluctantly listens to the growl of her stomach and picks up the food. In between the bites, she sneaks a glance or two at the girl who has seated herself at the far edge of the bed and is just watching her eat with the barest of expressions.

 

Maybe the girl will be more open to conversation now.

 

“Do you mind if I ask what your name is?”

 

The girl purses her lips in concentration. “You can call me…Hwasa. Yes. Hwasa.”

 

“Hwasa.” Wheein mouths the name silently. She looks back at the Hwasa, who is still looking at her rather blankly. “Um, Hwasa. Thank you for your help.”

 

“You were being rather difficult that night,” responds Hwasa bluntly.

 

Wheein feels her cheeks flush in irritation. Who was this girl to just be so rude to someone she had merely met the other day? But then again, she has to admit she owes her some patience. After all, the girl had taken her out of the stormy night, changed her into clean and dry clothes, gave her a place to sleep, and had now provided her with food. Pretty damn good food. She decides, what the hell, and just picks up the entire bowl of soup and downs it in one long gulp.

 

Smacking her lips, Wheein nods in appreciation. “Sorry about me being stubborn. Something…came over me. But that’s not your problem. I should really get out of your way and go—“

 

“Go where?” Hwasa takes the tray and puts it to the side as she edges closer. “Go back?”

 

Back.

 

Slamming through Wheein’s mind are the ragged memories of that night. Her breath hitches in , preventing an answer, and she bites her lip, almost breaking through skin. It’s all coming back to her, the emotions that played her body like a marionette into the rainy night.

 

That’s right. Hwasa’s right. She doesn’t have anywhere to go right now.

 

She’s lost.

 

She’s afraid.

 

She’s hoping it was all a morbid nightmare.

 

Hwasa takes her silence calmly and stretches her hand towards her, in which a remote has appeared. Wheein takes it, perplexed, as Hwasa motions towards the TV in the corner.

 

Oh well. Wheein aims the device and clicks the power button, watching with trepidation as the screen flickers to life.

 

The news anchor faces the camera solemnly, hands clasped on the desk as always.

 

She tunes out his superficial voice, focusing instead on the row of words on the ribbon stretching across the lower part of the screen. Her hand grows lax and drops the remote in her lap as she mouths the words to herself.

 

Suicides in downtown apartment complex.

 

The shot changes from the anchor to feed from the location of the crisis. It’s all coming back to her. The ambulance, the police, the nuisance of neighbors trying to peak over the taped zone. Wheein clutches her head, but she’s unable to tear her eyes away from the screen.

 

It isn’t until the stretcher rolls past in the background, face of the body blurred out at usual, but body features so familiar to her that she desperately thumbs the power button to turn off the TV. She drops back into the bed and buries her face into the pillow.

 

Unlike last night, she’s completely lost all her self control. The small room echoes her gasped sobs, and the pillow cover is slowly getting soaked with the endless trickle of hot pain leaking from her eyes. Her small shoulders shake with a force that rattles her entire frame and her fingers claw at the covers, scrunching them up to hide her broken form.

 

 

 

Why.

 

 

 

Why.

 

 

 

Why, Moonbyul?

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Wheein’s lost track of time, but she’s surely cried for a long time now. The tears on the pillow have dried by the time she is willing to raise her body off the bed and turn bleary eyes towards the room again. Hwasa and the tray are no longer there. She must have left earlier, while Wheein was bawling her eyes out, to give her some semblance of privacy. The girl truly has ways to sneak around quietly without her notice.

 

Right now, she feels empty, hollowed.

 

Maybe, Hwasa’s company will be better than wallowing further alone.

 

She pads towards the door, tugging it open gently and pokes her head out. It’s a one-way hallway. Shrugging, Wheein opts to follow it, towards the streaks of natural light lightening the wood of the open end. She turns the final corner and sees Hwasa at a simple wooden table sipping from a coffee mug while reading a magazine.

 

“You’re up. Better?”

 

Wheein’s jaw drops. How did…

 

She shrugs the surprise away and make her way to the table, sitting opposite Hwasa. “Sorry for causing another inconvenience.”

 

“You haven’t done anything wrong. Don’t beat yourself up. You’re got it bad enough, as it is.” Hwasa folds her magazine close. “So, did you need something?”

 

“The situation’s still kind messing me up,” chuckles Wheein sadly. “But I was wondering. Have the police mentioned anything else relating to the incident? I can’t really bring myself to continue watching,” she whispers, more to herself.

 

One of Hwasa’s eyebrows arches upward. “Do you mean mentioning you?”

 

“Y-Yeah.” Wheein twiddles her thumbs anxiously, eyes trained on the knots in the wood. “I would have thought they’d be asking around for my whereabouts. For my statement on what’s happened.”

 

There’s a strange moment of silence while Hwasa thinks, expression guarded and unwavering. “Don’t worry about that.”

 

“But—“ Wheein rubs her forehead, distraught. “I-I feel like I need closure. If I go to the police and report, it’ll give her family closure as well, right? Maybe I’ll even be able to—“, she chokes on her next words, “—see her one last time.”

 

“Do you trust yourself to remember that night, though?” Hwasa stirs in some sugar into another mug and pushes it towards Wheein.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“If it’s closure you need, then you need to accept what happened.”

 

Wheein’s hands wrap around the mug, feeling the warmth radiate off the somehow heated drink. “What…”

 

“If you would like, I can be a great listener. Figure out your story before you do anything reckless.” Cocking her head to the side, Hwasa graces Wheein with the faintest smile of encouragement.

 

“How did you know of the incident though?” Wheein frowns, trying to recall if she had ever seen Hwasa among the throng of neighbors her and Moonbyul shared in the dingy apartment complex. “We haven’t ever met, have we?”

 

“Let’s say I had an inkling something would happen. It was a violent night. And as for the second question, you’ve never seen me, but I’ve seen you around a few times.”

 

“That’s kind of creepy.”

 

“True.” Hwasa grins at the scrunched, confused brows of the girl before her. “But back to the point. Do you want to take me up on my offer?”

 

Wheein drums her fingers on her thigh as she ponders the option. Hwasa’s a stranger to all of this, unrelated and unbiased. She’s already shown herself to be trustworthy to a certain extent by taking care of her. It is probably beyond her current capability to deal with the screaming, accusing faces of Moonbyul’s family that will undoubtedly corner her at the station.

 

It could be that she’s still sick. What could even compel her to so blindly believe the words of a stranger and pour out everything with nothing expected in return? But there’s something about Hwasa’s demeanor and presence that makes her feel as though she is in the eye of a storm, sanity anchored by calm acknowledgement and reasonable advice.

 

She starts, hesitant. “The one in the news report…the body they carried away was Moonbyul. My girlfriend. And like they said, she died by committing suicide. Drug overdose.” That bitterness in rises again, mixing with the pain that resurfaces along with the memories.

 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“Not quite. But I was certainly part of the reason. I should have known my limits. I should have known her limits.” Her voice cracks with stress. “But I was too busy being happy to acknowledge whatever held her back. I knew her family wasn’t like mine, accepting and loving despite my preferences.”

 

Hwasa listens intently without a word, eyes unblinking.

 

“I don’t know why I couldn’t hold myself back when we were outside. I would want to hold her hands so tightly she’d never let go. I’d steal a kiss, here and there, just to show her how much I wanted her. I-I just loved her so much.” Wheein’s broken, glassy eyes stare into nothingness. “She would always hesitate when we were in public, and at first, I thought it was just shyness. But then I found out. Found out how much it was affecting her, too late,” she spits bitterly.

 

“Did her family…”

 

“She broke,” says Wheein listlessly. “She broke one day, that night we were together at her apartment, after she had gone home for a family dinner. She said she c-couldn’t do it anymore. That she loved me so much. But that it was all too much. That she had half-empty bottles of pills she never told me about, that would together be more than ‘enough’ to end it all.”

 

“She told you?”

 

“She didn’t want to. I was pounding on her bathroom door for an hour, begging her to talk to me, to calm down, to come out. Eventually, she confessed out of guilt, rambling about how all the expectations, commitments, and disappointment was simply too overwhelming. And then she said she loved me one last time.”

 

“What happened next?” Hwasa’s voice is soft, careful.

 

“I broke the door down with a bat because I had no idea where the key was. The sound probably alerted the neighbors and sent the police after us. But at the time, all I could think about was Moonbyul.” Wheein gasps as the rush of memories being to fog up in her mind, either muddied by her tears or her distress. “S-She was lying on the ground, prescription bottles by her hand, some empty, some still containing. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t breathing. S-She…” stifling a sob, Wheein covers with a trembling palm. “I-I loved her so much. I-I couldn’t imagine living without her.”

 

“And…?”

 

“T-The next thing I remember is running away, trying my hardest to get away from it all. I was a mess. As was probably obvious when you found me,” she adds with furrowed brows.

 

“So that’s it.” Hwasa’s expression slips and Wheein can see the faintest hint of confusion in those dark irises.

 

“I’m not sure why I had that lapse in memory too, but now that I’m thinking about it, it was probably the shock of the moment.”

 

“Do you regret what happened?”

 

“Of course—“

 

“No.” Hwasa’s low tone is far more imposing than before, and Wheein feels her back straightening to pay attention. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Wheein tries to argue, “But if I had been more considerate—“

 

“It’s a matter of personal strength and conviction. That girl was just weaker—“

 

“Don’t you dare insult Moonbyul!” Wheein slams her palms against the table as she stands, eyes glowering at the calm, seated Hwasa. “Love isn’t just something that each person deals with separately! I should have been there for her when she needed me.”

 

“Do you think she has regrets, then?”

 

Hwasa’s assured gaze makes her next words come out weaker than expected. “Y-Yes. She must.”

 

“Ok.” Grabbing the magazine back off the table, Hwasa shrugs, letting out a small unnoticeable scoff in the process.

 

Wheein blinks. That’s all? She’s expecting a full blown argument, but all she gets is an ‘ok’ and a subtle end to their conversation.

 

“By the way,” Hwasa suddenly says, “I advise you to stay with me for a few days. It’s better than going back to where you want to go.”

 

“I-I’d rather not intrude—“

 

“You won’t be. Stay.” And again, Hwasa returns her gaze to the magazine, signaling the end of their exchange.

 

Wheein’s confused.

 

She’s also still lost.

 

What she really needs to do is go to the police station, but—

 

She feels safer here.

 

So, she stays.

 

Just for a little while.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

 

 

The rockiness between them subsides after a few days. Wheein realizes that Hwasa’s bluntness is just, well, part of the girl’s nature. Hwasa knows tact, but then again she doesn’t. It’s not so bad. She finds herself being a bit more abrupt with her words and thoughts, now that she doesn’t really care about other’s opinions.

 

That’s how their conversations go. She does most of the talking anyways, since Hwasa’s tacit character only offers minimal response. The girl is a good listener, however.

 

She doesn’t talk about Moonbyul anymore. Hwasa is understanding enough to acknowledge her desire to avoid the topic, but she can see momentary specks of concern dotting those irises when they talk.

 

That’s something else that’s relatively grown since she’s stayed over.

 

Hwasa’s emotional output.

 

It’s limited, for sure.

 

But Wheein knows there’s something there beneath that façade of cold ambivalence. It’s slipped out a few times. It could be that she’s just gotten used to reading the girl, but she also feels that Hwasa is opening up to her.

 

It’s strange, though. Most of the time Hwasa simply laughs when they talk. The girl never gets angry or scared.

 

But randomly, her eyes will cloud up when looking at Wheein. Her shoulders will drop by a fraction of an inch, shoulders sink nearly imperceptibly, lips tugged down at the corners when her eyes flicker over and through Wheein’s chest.

 

She knows because it’s happened more than a few times. And once, when she catches Hwasa’s in the act, she teases the girl lightheartedly.

 

“Staring at my chest? Like what you see?”

 

“There’s nothing there anyways.”

 

“F^%#^&%^--“

 

And then, Hwasa rolls her eyes, looking back towards the screen, back towards her magazine, back towards whatever. Bringing the conversation to an abrupt end once more.

 

However, not before Wheein detects the pity.

 

It should infuriate her. She hates being weak, hates her wall of normalcy being seen through. She hates when her thoughts are forced out of her, when she’s starting to show behind her curtain of self-lies. She’s had enough of superficial comfort.

 

Hwasa’s pity is different. She can’t describe it well enough. It’s as if the pity is for her, not for what’s happened to her, if that makes sense at all. As if Hwasa feels for her on another level.

 

All she knows is that she feels secure being with her. Physically and emotionally. At home, even in this foreign home.

 

 

 

And little by little, it starts to hurt less.

 

She doesn’t wake up to nightmares, sobbing Moonbyul’s name.

 

The pangs of pain turn to a dull ache when she brews her tea, remembering just how Moonbyul liked hers.

 

It’s not so bad waking up in the morning alone, without Moonbyul’s arm wrapped snugly around her.

 

She looks forward to the rays of sunlight in the morning decorating the hallway. Every morning, the low hum of television voices or the flip of crisp pages grows louder as she heads down towards the light, where the aloof girl will be at the table already, mug of coffee ready for her, still steaming hot.

 

Slowly, she’s forgetting. The memories of the night are fading to a dull imprint in her mind, not that endless loop of a cursed recording that replays over and over.

 

She starts to smile again. She edges Hwasa on to smile with her.

 

She begins to not think about the endless, empty days, and thinks instead of what Hwasa will be bringing home for dinner.

 

Anchored. That’s what she feels now. Not drifting pointlessly, emotions jerking her every odd way.

 

 

 

Thanks to Hwasa.

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

At some point, it’s beginning to feel like house arrest.

 

Wheein whines about how Hwasa’s so strict, forbidding her from going out to avoid any ‘issues with the police or whatever’. Reluctantly, Hwasa loosens the restrictions she’s set and allows Wheein to go out. Only when it’s dark.

 

So now, the two of them are heading down the empty streets, side by side. Wheein’s ecstatic at being let free, skipping in circles around the other girl, letting the night breeze flutter and caress her. Hwasa smiles warmly at her antics.

 

“Thanks for coming with me,” giggles Wheein as she kicks up a cloud of dust with her rapid movements. “I know you’re often busy with work.”

 

“I figured I could use a break too,” says Hwasa, hands shoved into her coat pockets.

 

Wheein slows her steps and takes the opportunity to link her arms with Hwasa. “You’re not going to suddenly get called to work and leave me here, are you?”

 

“U-Uh, no. Definitely not.”

 

“Good. I won’t let you, anyways.” Wheein tightens her hold and bounces on her toes as she blinks at the neon lights in the distance. “Hwasa, is that…?”

 

Hwasa stares at the hyper girl next to her and snickers. “Yes, yes. It’s a chicken store. Let me guess. You hungry again?”

 

“Can we get some?” Her eyes shine in the night, and soon enough Hwasa breaks down. Not that she was putting up much resistance in the first place. “Let’s goooo—“

 

“I’ll go. You just stay here and hang around for a while.” Hwasa shakes her head at Wheein’s plea to join, stiff finger poking Wheein in the forehead to reprimand her. “I’ll be right back. Don’t wander too far.”

 

Wheein grumbles and pouts, but it is to empty air. Hwasa hurries off towards the store with a final warning, and Wheein is left standing in the alleyway with an exasperated sigh.

 

She thinks Hwasa’s really taking these precautionary measures too far. It isn’t like she’s a suspect in Moonbyul’s case. She should be all right once she goes for a statement, but Hwasa’s prevented her from doing that either. It’s like the girl just doesn’t want her to go outside to interact with anyone.

 

Maybe Hwasa’s afraid she’s still traumatized from the suicide.

 

While she’s mulling over her thoughts, she hears a meowing come from behind her and she whirls around. She widens her eyes, alarmed by the presence of the dirty tabby in the soggy cardboard box. How could she have missed it earlier? The lighting in the alley is atrocious.

 

She treads closer, hands outstretched. The stray must be suffering, living out alone like this. Maybe she’ll pick it up and take it in, like Hwasa did for her. She hopes Hwasa will let her keep a pet. Oh well. Act first, think later.

 

For some reason, the cat’s meowing gains momentum and desperation as she nears. She pauses, frowning at narrow slits shining back at her. She remembers being relatively sociable with animals, but the look the stray gives her is anything but at ease.

 

“Shh. It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispers, edging closer.

 

However, when she finally lays a cool hand on the cat’s head, the animal yowls in panic, swiping a clawed paw towards her hand as it lurches backward. Wheein yanks her hand back, eyes bemused at the reaction. This stray seemed to be more terrified of humans that the norm. Squatting down to decrease her effective size, she decided to try again, cooing at the lump.

 

“Wheein? What are you doing?”

 

The heavy smell of chicken vies for her attention and she spins around to see Hwasa staring down at her, drumstick in her hand.

 

“I’m trying to approach this cat.” She points towards the corner of the alley, other hand digging into the bucket Hwasa held. “But it’s being very shy.”

 

Hwasa narrow her eyes at the animal and it shrinks even more if possible, slinking backward into the darkness. “Oh.”

 

“I was wondering if we would be able to keep it. But it looks like it doesn’t like me,” says Wheein sadly around her mouthful of chicken.

 

“I’m not very good with animals. Sorry.”

 

“We’ve got chicken. I suppose that’s good enough.” Wheein knocks her head into Hwasa’s shoulder, nudging her to move on. “Let’s continue walking then! Don’t want to waste this time outside.”

 

Hwasa nods and they head off into the night streets.  

 

 

 

Behind them, the cat uncurls from its hunched position, raised fur slowly flattening against its torso. It wobbles back towards its cardboard box, fear continuing to dilate its pupils.

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

Wheein begins to feel more daring.

 

One day, she decides she wants to feel the sun on her skin. She knows Hwasa will immediately refuse if she brings it up, so she waits until the girl is off to work in her long black coat.

 

After she’s gone for about a half hour or so, Wheein leaps from her chair and heads towards the front door. She yanks the door open, and sunlight pours in. She drinks it in, reveling in the natural warmth she’s missed.

 

It can’t hurt, can it? She skips down the steps, blinking her eyes to accommodate the sudden brightness. She is in a familiar part of the city. In fact, it’s not too far from the park in which Hwasa found her. There’s a longing within her that strikes the gears of motion and jerks her towards the park.

 

It will be test, to see if I have really moved on. She convinces herself that going to somewhere chock full of memories of her and Moonbyul will be the ultimate trial. Hwasa can’t argue with that. The girl has been trying to convince her to let loose her regrets for so long.

 

She’s jogging down the familiar roads, dodging random people on the sidewalk. The park nears and she slows her jog, familiar playground comes into view.

 

It doesn’t hurt.

 

She stands in the center of the playground, looking at the slides that they would take together, at the swings that Moonbyul would launch her to wonderful heights in, at the climbing structures that Moonbyul would chase her around.

 

There’s no pain. In fact, the memories are almost sweet, tinged with a slight everlasting bitterness in .

 

She has moved on.

 

It comforts her to know that. However, the relief doesn’t last long when she suddenly thinks of Hwasa’s reaction.

 

Will the girl make her leave now that she doesn’t need help anymore? Wheein’s brow furrows in worry. She hasn’t thought too deeply about the details about her stay at Hwasa’s, even though there are plenty of unanswered questions in that. But all she knows is that she’s almost reliant on the girl now, and that she can’t imagine just leaving.

 

“Watch out!” A sudden, urgent voice breaks her out of her thoughts and she sees a little boy careening towards her, parent screaming from the side.

 

She braces herself for the impact, arms ready to catch the hurtling body.

 

 

 

 

 

But the collision never comes.

 

The boy continues tumbling past her. Through her.

 

Wheein stares at her hands, bright sunlight lighting up the particles of dust dashing through the air around and in her.

                                                                                                          

 

 

The pieces click together.

 

 

 

That blurred memory regains clarity.

 

 

 

The bitterness in is the poisonous foam that constricted her when she collapsed that day, next to Moonbyul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s dead.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

She hasn’t told Hwasa for a whole 6 days after her realization.

 

The girl had not discovered her secret excursion, but was genuinely worried by her unusual reclusiveness.

 

Wheein has too many questions she needs to figure out herself. She’s been seeing so many things that have suddenly popped up.

 

Stuff like how she’s actually without form. And how she can pass through inanimate objects, not just humans, if she tries hard enough.

 

Stuff like how all food suddenly turns bland to her.

 

Stuff like how there’s this strange metal chain attached to her chest that she can hide at will. The other end just floats out into emptiness. But what’s worrying is the fact that the chain won’t come off no matter how hard she tugs. It’s slowly turning pitch black as the days pass.

 

There’s also something else nagging at her that she has to acknowledge.

 

How can Hwasa see her?

 

 

 

She’s desperate to know. So when Hwasa returns one night from her ‘work’, Wheein is sitting solemnly with her hands clasped on the table, waiting.

 

“Wheein. Still up?” Hwasa shrugs her coat off and hands it on a rack, slipping a black book out of the pockets into her purse.

 

“I wanted to talk to you for a bit.”

 

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

 

Wheein waits for Hwasa to seat herself before letting loose the cannonball of a question. “Did you know that I’m dead?”

 

This time, Hwasa is unable to hide the shock in her eyes, the sudden frantic fear pulsing through the orbs. Wheein can see it all now, make sense of the sadness that Hwasa directs towards her from time to time.

 

Finally, Hwasa whispers, “When did you find out?”

 

“6 days ago.”

 

There’s a slam, and Wheein stares bewildered at the abrupt anger with which Hwasa lashes out at the table. “N-No.” Hwasa shivers and speaks again. “H-Have you seen anything else? Like a…a chain?”

 

“Like the one connected to my chest?” Wheein nods and wills it into view. “I’ve been only able to see it since I found out.”

 

“No,” murmurs Hwasa, distress pouring out her voice as she stares desperately at the black chain. “How is this…it can’t…”

 

“Who are you, Hwasa? How are you able to see me? Do you know what this,” she gestures towards the chain, “is supposed to mean?”

 

“I’m a grim reaper. And that, is the chain tethering you to this world.” Hwasa sinks into her chair, fingers rubbing at her temples. “This is not how it should be. I could have sworn you were getting better!” She jerks her gaze up to meet Wheein’s. “Are you still not over Moonbyul’s death?”

 

“I-I am. I-I went outside the other day,” Wheein flinches from Hwasa’s accusing gaze, “I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry. I went to the park to see if I would still feel pained. But it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

 

“This doesn’t make sense then.” Hwasa gets to her feet, pacing back and forth on the other side of the table and clenches and unclenches her fists as she thinks. “For it to be this black. And there’s no time left.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Hwasa pauses mid-step. “I guess I can tell you now that you are aware of your death. From the time you become aware, you are given seven days to resolve your regrets and settle anything lingering attachments. The chain is a reflection of your state. The brighter it gets, the freer your soul is and you are set to move on into the afterlife.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

 

“We obviously have rules and regulations! It’s not like I can just walk up to you and tell you that you’re dead. Many people don’t believe us anyways.” Hwasa in a deep breath, eyes flitting towards the pitch black chain protruding from Wheein’s ethereal chest.

 

“Fine. But what about my chain? Why is it so dark? Am I going to hell or something?” Wheein scoffs as she raises a hand towards the chain, hissing as an icy fire burns her soft touch.

 

“Not hell. For lack of a better term…you’ll be stuck. On earth, but in a parallel dimension. Stuck. For eternity.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Oh?!?” Hwasa’s voice nearly rises into a shriek at the lack of urgency in Wheein’s voice. “It’s worse than you think! It’s not something you can just brush off. Eternity is longer than you can ever imagine. Time corrupts the innocence of those who are stuck there and turns the worst of the lot into evils that even we have to watch out for.” She sinks down into the chair. “The loneliness gets to everyone.”

 

Wheein can only watch Hwasa rant on and on about the repercussions of being left behind. Hwasa’s words seem to resonate from deeper within her, pain pooling deep in her abyss of her pupils. Loneliness, she hears. Yes, it’s eyes of loneliness that she sees staring out of Hwasa’s pale features.

 

So different from the eyes that first faced her that rainy night at the park.

 

So much more open and vulnerable.

 

They’re filled with a foreign, unlikely emotion that is now repressed by worry over her.

 

“You have a day, Wheein. If you try hard enough to let loose whatever’s tying you down, you may be able to revert the chain back to its normal state. Move on. Leave the regrets behind.” Hwasa swallows and mumbles, “And see the people who are waiting for you ahead.”

 

Wheein realizes the look in her own eyes have changed.

 

She glances down at the black chain tethering her soul to the earthly world, pulsing with an undying force.

 

Regrets, Hwasa had said. Regrets are what chain her down. Hwasa’s reasonable to assume that these regrets are from Moonbyul’s suicide and her own rushed decision. No wonder she had been so active in the past few weeks trying to help her forget and move on.

 

And forget, she did.

 

The chains wiggle and snake their way in the air as if alive, lengthening link by link.

 

“I don’t want to,” states Wheein simply.

 

Hwasa stares, dumbstruck. “Has something gone to your head? You realize your loved ones are waiting for you on the other side. Even M-Moonbyul will be there for you. Don’t you want to meet her again?”

 

“I don’t think I can make this regret disappear in a day.” Wheein shrugs with a small smile. Her chain is hidden again, but its imprint is etched into her mind.  

 

“This isn’t a joke—“

 

“Did you like the month we spent together?” asks Wheein.

 

“W-What?”

 

“This loneliness you keep speaking of. Is it still there when I’m here?”

 

Hwasa sighs, running her fingers through thick locks of black hair. “Your company was enjoyable, but I always knew it was going to end.”

 

“Then why are you avoiding looking at me? Don’t tell me you’re feeling some regrets as well?” teases Wheein.

 

“Mine don’t matter. I’m a reaper, bound to this world in between, regardless.”

 

Wheein chuckles at the measures to which Hwasa avoids her gaze. “You know, I don’t think mine matters either.”

 

She can feel her chain still twitching and extending. When Hwasa suddenly jerks in her seat, eyes blazing wide at her wrist, she opts to bring it back into view. The other end of her chain is sinking into Hwasa’s form and the entire length begins to vibrate with increasing intensity. All of a sudden, it shatters apart, dark slivers disappearing into wisps of candlelight.

 

“My regret is you.” She rubs her now chainless chest, sighing as if a great weight has been lifted. “Leaving you.”

 

“What have you done, Wheein!” yells Hwasa. “How will you return now? After all the effort I made to make sure you wouldn’t suffer—“

 

Wheein leans through the table and wraps her arms around Hwasa’s dark, flickering waist. The girl is rendered mute in a second, stiff within her embrace. However, in the silence that follows, Hwasa slowly relaxes into her arms, bringing her own to encircle Wheein’s back.

 

“You’ve made a mistake,” mutters Hwasa, trying to reason her way back into control. “You don’t know what you’ve committed yourself too—“

 

“Shh.” Wheein brushes a finger against Hwasa’s lips. “Maybe you didn’t learn this in grim reaper school, but loneliness isn’t an incurable disease.”

 

The lights in the house suddenly blink off. Hwasa’s sigh is even more pronounced, more tinged with longing in the darkness and she leans back, Wheein still in her clutches. Thankfully, Wheein has never had to worry about controlling how solid her form is when she’s with Hwasa, so she lets the girl take control while her emotions rampage.

                                                                                                                                                        

 

 

“Maybe, just maybe, eternity isn’t so bad if it’s with you.”

 

---

 

*A/N  Been watching Goblin, and god, Hwasa in Decalcomanie looks like the perfect reaper. 

Hopefully, this story was mysterious at first, maybe suspenseful even. But since some of you are very sharp, I suspect you may have picked up some of the hints I drop early on. I purposely left everything pretty vague at the beginning.

But anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter! Feel free to drop a comment too!