Byulyi’s heart beats erratically, nodding along to the panel facing her. It’s all static noise to her, her hand still gripping her microphone, her chest heaving with her nerves.

It feels like eons, eons of standing under the scrutiny, the judging eyes, the rustling of notes being pushed around, words spoken to her that she can’t process.

“You pass,” is what finally catches her, her eyes go wide, the slightest bit, the hold on her microphone goes lax, she scrambles to keep it in her hand.

“What?” she asks, blinking rapidly, watching as everyone breaks into smiles, “r-really?” she stutters, “really?”

There’s a lot of feelings she can’t process as she’s taken into the office, sitting down with a representative.

The chair is too soft, too plush, she feels as if she’s sinking, sinking away from the moment.

The draw up a contract.

Moon Byulyi is now a vocal trainee under Rainbow Bridge. They give her her training schedule, tentative dates for evaluations. They tell her to lose weight.

She smiles through it all, holding her breath, nodding to all the terms, all the conditions, every single requirement she’s meant to fall under if she ever dreams of debuting.

She walks out and the sun is still shining though the windows. There’s still people going around their business, as if Byulyi’s world hasn’t just completely changed, as if he’s not a step closer to her long life goal.

“Excuse,” she says nervously, stopping a lady from her path, “could you…” she swallows nervously, “could you take a picture of me?”

The lady nods, taking her phone, smiling when Byulyi pulls up her copy of her contract, offering an awkward smile when the lady prompts her to.

“Thank you,” she bows, taking her phone back.

“Good luck,” the lady replies.

Byulyi bows again, mumbling another thank you as the lady walks away.

-

The apartment she’s found in Seoul is small. She gets to it after long days of training, turning on the lights, greeted by silence.
She walks to her room, picks out sleeping clothes before she turns on the lights of the bathroom.

It takes a while for the room to become fully lighted. Byulyi watches the way the brightening light changes the shadows on her face, finally beginning to strip when the lights get to their brightest setting.

The sounds of the shower echo loudly in the dark apartment, raising an eerie feeling, growing goosebumps along Byulyi’s bare arms.
She washes away the sweat, the day long frustration of exercising, of dance, of singing until feels raw, her voice catching, fading into a crackle.

Her presses her palm against , grimacing at the itch the hours of vocal practice has left behind.

She misses her mother at these times, as she makes way to her kitchen, listening to the rush of the water from the faucet, the clicking of her stove.

There’s only a little bit of honey left when she searches through her pantry, just enough for a cup of tea. She’ll have to buy some more tomorrow.

Byulyi grimaces when the tea burns down , burning down her chest and stomach, causing her to shiver.

She rubs her hands up her arms, finally finding her way back to her room. Noise rushes into the room when she opens the window, the sounds of the night, the cars, the people still unable to find their way home.

When she lays down and the spring breeze finally reaches towards her, she can’t help but wonder when it’ll all start feeling real.

-

Ahn Hyejin looks at her in a way that makes her blood boil.

Her face is soft, features coming together to form a fresh baby face. But her eyes are harsh, pinning Byulyi down, unwavering, prying.

She hasn’t met all the trainees yet, but when Hyejin gets introduced to her, a promise of crossing paths mumbled to them as an explanation, Byulyi can’t help it.

Can’t help the way she looks at the other girl and her heart starts to act strangely.

She excuses herself to the bathroom once they exchange names and bows, locking the stall behind her, trying to calm down, trying to remember her schedule.

She’s seen girls like Ahn Hyejin before, dangerous looking, too poised, too out of her league, so completely unlike Byulyi.

There’s many things she’s left behind with her mom and dad. Her home, her friends, her sisters.

But there’s one thing Byulyi had wished wouldn’t follow her.

These feelings, these urges towards girls too pretty too perfect. The ghost of her first kiss, behind the school building, the taste of peach lip gloss from the other pair of lips.

Her heart has stopped beating so harshly, her cheeks still burning. But she keeps wondering if Hyejin’s skin is as soft as it looks.

-

Falling in love at an all girls school was something Byulyi hadn’t planned. But as she took in the inky black of her hair, the narrowness of her nose, her face, Byulyi had fallen.

Shy fingers hovering, smiles that were too sweet, shy. Byulyi’s heart had been too excited, too smitten at the smell of cherry blossoms, the smallest of rises from their pleated skirts.

The other girl had been pretty, sharp eyes and so gentle Byulyi hadn’t tried to escape, falling victim to the darkness of her eyes, the shock of pink her lips formed.

They had been friends, something much more intimate in a way they knew was wrong but could not fight off.

Held hands led to fleeting touches, Byulyi’s thumb caressing over the ridge of knuckles, a soft hand pressing warm to Byulyi’s cheek. Warmness spread in the most quiet moments, hidden away, always ready to pull apart but so unwilling.

Her first kiss had not been anything like she had seen in dramas or read in stories. Byulyi’s pulse had gone wild, crossing the line of just enough and no return. The slim fingers wrapping around the back of her neck, the taste of lip gloss and bubble gum had been so sugary, so intoxicating.

Byulyi had cried herself to sleep that night.

Upset, scared, shaken.

Wanting more.

-

There’s an empty dance room, door open. Byulyi pushes the door further, lights flickering on when she sets foot onto the shiny wooden floor. The mirrors lined against the walls catch Byulyi by surprise, every angle, every turn reflected back at her.

She sets up the speakers in the corner, putting the last song she had been listening to, anxious to see what her body still remembers.

Her moves aren’t as sharp as they used to be, her timing is off. It’s frustrating, when she feels sweat running down her back, feels her knee already hurting. The music is too loud, too distracting, she feels like tearing her hair out.

She turns around abruptly, going to the sound system, yanking her phone away, fingers pressing angrily to stop the faint music still playing pitifully.

When she looks up, the door is open, Hyejin’s eyes watching her carefully, face neutral.

Byulyi feels like she has to say something, feels like she should be mad. But she just watches, silent, fingers locking and unlocking the screen of her phone.

“Hyejin-ah,” someone calls out, voice flowing, almost musical.

Byulyi watches as another girl crashes against Hyejin’s side, hands holding on to her shoulder, chin place on top. Her hair curls at the bottom, long and dark brown.

Byulyi takes note of her eyes, the downward slant of them charming. She smiles, Byulyi watches as dimples crease soft cheeks, the way her eyes close with the force of her happiness.

“It’s late,” the girl says, voice is loud, “let’s go home.”

Byulyi looks away when the girl’s eyes land on her, bowing in return when the other does the same.

There’s no introduction, just the creaking of the floorboards when Hyejin gets pulled away.

She sighs as she turns off the speakers, clicking the lights off, closing the door behind her. As she collects her things, spirits low, she remembers she needs honey.

The streets are still full with people, even with the late hour. Byulyi walks into the first convenience store she finds, eyes narrowing at the brightness of the neon signs, the blinking red and blues and oranges.

The cashier greets her, Byulyi offers a smile, ducking quickly to find what she needs. She spots her jar of honey along the teas, thinking for a second before she buys some more green tea bags.

The cashier scans and bags her purchase without attempts at small talk, Byulyi feels oddly relieved about that.

Breathes out when her change is pushed back at her, her bag handed to her. She leaves with the whooshing sound of the closing door, greeted by the static noise of the city.

The street is empty of foot traffic, Byulyi wonders just how long she was in the store. As she goes to make a turn on the sidewalk she catches the shadows close together, embraced in a way Byulyi hasn’t been in years. She recognizes the line of the slope of the nose, the tilt of the other’s voice. Byulyi watches as a passing car lights them up for a split second, allowing Byulyi to see the shine of Hyejin’s eyes, the tight hold of each others arms.

The lights of the car passes by, turning them off just as the other girl goes to kiss Hyejin.

There’s a strange feeling raging in Byulyi’s stomach. A burning, hurting feeling, the strangest feeling rushing up her chest, trying to bring the prickling heat to the corner of her eyes.

As she walks away she realizes it’s sadness.

-

She can’t wash away the feeling, no matter how hot the water scalds her or how harshly she scrubs. The burn of her tea feels gentle to the feeling still raging around her intestines, around her heart.

She lays in the darkness, wet hair soaking through her pillow and tries not to remember.

-

The kiss had been like the crack running along the dam. Byulyi was pushed down, completely powerless against crashing wave upon crashing wave, pulling her under, towards the dark abyss, the unknown.

The fleeting kisses, the touches turned sensual, Byulyi craved them as much as she feared them.

“Byulyi-ah,” she had said, voice dropping, “you know I love you right?”

She had fallen so in love, to the taste of peach lip gloss ,the overly sweet smell of artificial cherry blossoms, the softness of snow white skin.

When it was dark in their neighborhood, when the night boiled down to the sound of crickets, the stars barely pushing past the light pollution, Byulyi felt so in love, sitting on her porch, lights on, thighs pressed together, hands holding on tightly.

A kiss was too risky.

“I don’t love you,” she said instead.