XII. Run

 

Joy sits quietly in the passenger seat, sinking into its worn-out cushions. Her finger picks at the shabby interior where the fabric starts to peel away, toying with it. The engine grumbles. The brakes screech at the tiniest bit of pressure. And every now and then, the seatbelt locks on her, digging into the side of her neck until she pulls it away.

 

The cheerleader clicks her tongue, slightly annoyed. Wondering how it is that this decrepit truck hasn’t fallen apart yet. And wondering even more as to why Seulgi bothers keeping it.

 

“It’s been a while since you’ve asked for a ride.”

 

“That’s because you’ve been too busy driving your girlfriend everywhere,” Joy sighs, trying to ease the edge in her voice. But from the smirk she catches on Seulgi’s face, the attempt is an utter failure. Though she should’ve known as much. Fooling Seulgi always did require more effort than it did with anyone else.

 

It’s the price of knowing each other too well.

 

“And is that what you’re mad about?” the heartthrob chuckles.

 

“Please, as if i’d waste my energy being angry over something so small,” Joy immediately scoffs, recalling what had happened at lunch.

 

A merry circle of friends enjoying their food and taking part in pleasant chatter when the topic deviated to this weekend’s big day--the track meet. For some reason, Seulgi had been in high spirits and Mark and Johnny were endlessly boasting, claiming that they’d win all the medals. But, just as Joy expected, Wendy challenged them.

 

“I can’t decide whether you guys are arrogant or just extremely confident,” Wendy shakes her head and takes a sip of her water. “No offense, I mean, I’ve never seen you all practice but do you really think you’re going to take a medal for every event?”

 

The three track teammates exchange glances, smiles spreading across their faces as they all come to the same conclusion.

 

“Yup!” they cheer in unison.

 

“Plus, I made a promise to a certain someone,” Seulgi grins, casually slinging her arm around Irene’s shoulders. “You’re going to come watch, right?”

 

Evident surprise appears on Irene’s face--widened eyes and slightly parted lips. She blinks to regain composure and all the while, Joy watches with a raised brow. Quietly observing the heartthrob’s high spirits as she pulls Irene closer to herself.

 

“Of course,” Irene nods with a tiny twinkle in her eyes as she elbows Seulgi playfully. “Now, hurry up and eat the rest of your lunch.”

 

Giggles bounce between them as Seulgi avoids being force fed a carrot by Irene. But, ultimately, the heartthrob loses, briefly sulking as she chews on the orange vegetable. Then, she her head to the side, calling out to the Vice President.

 

“Wendy, you should come too.”

 

The Vice President pauses mid-bite. Her fork still lingering near her lips. In an instant, Mark and Johnny begin to make a ruckus, also insisting that Wendy attend.

 

“Yeah, Wendy!”

 

“Come on!”

 

“You don’t believe us, right?,” Seulgi smirks. “Then why don’t you come and watch?”

 

For a moment, Wendy narrows her eyes, mulling over those words. Spinning the fork between her fingers, she nonchalantly stabs into another piece of chicken. Joy expects her to refuse. Bluntly and quickly. As Vice President, well, she must certainly have her hands full with other duties, projects, and her own assignments.

 

Yet, interestingly enough, Joy is wrong.

 

“Fine. I suppose I can go,” Wendy says, barely batting an eye. Simple and to the point.

 

The boys cheer excitedly for their newly gained audience, ready to impress. Continually blabbering of how they’ll score win after win and that all Wendy and Irene need to do is scream their names and pump their fists in the air. On the other hand, Seulgi cooly grins, amused by their over-the-top enthusiasm.

 

And Joy watches them, waiting.

 

And waiting.

 

And waiting.

 

“No, I’m not mad,” Joy declares, nearly hissing at the memory. “I’m just a little confused that you asked your fake girlfriend and Wendy to come to your track meet but then you didn’t even ask me to come. Me--your best friend. Guess I just don’t get an invitation, huh?”

 

“So you are mad,” Seulgi teases and the cheerleader leers at her, knowing full well that the former is trying to push her buttons.

 

Angry?

 

Her?

 

No, Joy won’t admit anything of the sort, even if it is true.

 

Because Seulgi should already know.

 

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

 

“Relax,” Seulgi tells her, the even and steady tone of her voice frustratingly calm to Joy’s ears. “At this point, is that even something I need to do?”

 

The question confuses the cheerleader, offends her. So much so, that she glowers at Seulgi.

 

“And what’s that supposed to mean--”

 

“It means,” Seulgi quickly cuts in before Joy can begin to rant, “I know you’ll be there. You always are. So why ask when I already know?”

 

And suddenly--easily--all anger dissipates, leaving Joy in almost an instant.

 

She stares, stupefied.

 

One or two sentences. A few simple words. And somehow, with so little, everything is fine and understood. But that’s always the case, isn’t it?

 

Between them, at the very least, this is true.

 

“Well,” Joy shakes her head, resisting the urge to laugh at her own absurdity but satisfaction lights her face and pulls the corners of her lips into a smile. “At least you haven’t forgotten that much.”

 

“How can I possibly forget when you bother me every day?” Seulgi teases again, receiving a hard slap on the shoulder. She winces and exhales.

 

“Still,” Joy rolls her eyes, “it’s nice to be asked sometimes, you know.”

 

Her finger returns to the peeling fabric near the lock of her door, tugging on it, tempted to rip it off. It’s nearly all gone away. Barely holding on. So Joy pulls at it but then leaves it. Pulls at it and then leaves it again. Then, for a third time, she pulls at it and then leaves it.

 

“Noted,” Seulgi nods. “I’ll ask next time.”

 

“Good.”

 

And soon, Joy’s hand falls to her lap and she gazes out the window, staring up at gray clouds and a dark sky.

 

“Hey,” the cheerleader speaks up, breaking the short silence. “The track meet on Sunday--don’t overdo it.”

 

Joy doesn’t explain and Seulgi doesn’t ask further. The latter simply spares a glance and sighs, speaking words of assurance and giving a smirk.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

 

//

 

They sit on the floor of Wendy’s room, huddled close around the low coffee table. Books and papers lay scattered beside them nearly hiding the carpet while snack wrappers and empty mugs clutter the table surface, evidence of their long hours of studying.

 

Across from her, Irene yawns, tears forming at the corners of her eyes but they’re swiftly wiped away by the heel her hand. She sets her pencil down, signalling a break from her assignment. Meanwhile, Wendy continues on, writing away.

 

Scribbling and scribbling.

 

That is, until she begins to feel the weight of watching eyes upon her.

 

“You’re staring,” Wendy says ever so casually as she’s been long accustomed to Irene’s contemplative stares--how carefully she looks at a person and what thoughts always seemed to be circulating in her mind.

 

“Hmm,” Irene hums, leaning forward and folding her arms on top of the table. “I didn’t think you were going to say yes.”

 

The hint of a smile lingers at the tail end of her sentence and it isn’t hard to guess what Irene’s referring to.

 

For a split second, Wendy’s pen stops. She keeps her head down, blinks, and clears then resumes writing again.

 

“It’s a school-related event. As Vice President, it's not strange for me to attend.”

 

It’s not a complete lie.

 

With her position and her responsibility, it’s entirely true. And though she’s not a part of any of those other clubs or sports, Wendy goes to at least one event a week just to provide a little moral support and show some school spirit.

 

But in this case, well… she can’t bring herself to say it.

 

Immediately, Irene rolls her eyes.

 

“Oh come on, Wendy. Just admit it. Seulgi’s not as bad as you thought, is she?”

 

“Does it matter?” the Vice President automatically answers back.

 

“It matters.” Irene replies without a second of hesitance, as quick as she always is at times like these. Instant. “She’s a good person but somehow, people miss it.”

 

Of course they do and it’s no secret as to why, Wendy thinks to herself. The reputation that follows Seulgi is far from favorable, coloring her a delinquent and a player. It’s what everyone sees at first glance. It’s what everyone hears. And it’s what everyone repeats.

 

And like many others, Wendy pegged Seulgi as trouble simply because of that. Yes, perhaps she passed judgment on Seulgi’s character far too swiftly, but could anyone blame her for doing so?

 

If you see trouble, avoid trouble.

 

Involving yourself only rewards you with inconvenience and annoyance--exactly what Wendy doesn’t need.

 

But Irene has never been swayed away from such things, has she?

 

“You’re too soft,” the Vice President says, her shoulders sinking for a brief moment as she shakes her head. “Maybe if Seulgi were more of a model student and didn’t have a hundred rumors about her flying around then people would know.”

 

“But you know now, don’t you?”

 

Wendy’s hand stills, her pen hovering over her paper. The words stop flowing and she finds herself struggling on how to answer.

 

“I... still have my doubts.”

 

“Overly cautious as usual,” Irene cheekily comments.

 

And it’s obvious she’s not letting it go. Wendy thinks about lying or maybe even keeping shut. Dodge the question and let silence filter in.

 

But it’s pointless, isn’t it?

 

Because sitting across from her with big brown, warm eyes, Irene waits patiently. Hands cradling her face as she now leans further forward on the table, anticipating.

 

The heaviest sigh passes Wendy’s lips.

 

“Yeah, she’s a decent enough person, I guess,” she finally admits in the best way she possibly can.

 

“In other words,” Irene laughs, “you’re warming up to her.”

 

The Vice President scowls and ruffles her hair.

 

“Do you really have to put things so plainly all the time?”

 

“Yes, especially when you’re beating around the bush.”

 

Wendy has never understood it--how Irene can be so painfully straightforward, her words like arrows aiming true. At times, she finds it admirable. At other times, it’s mildly frustrating. This time, it’s the latter. Because Irene perceives the truth of Wendy’s feelings too easily, laying it out more simply despite her struggles to even admit it out loud--to admit it to herself.

 

It happens every time.

 

Every time since the day they became friends and still, Wendy doesn’t understand how she does it.

 

Irene straightens herself and stretches before grabbing her pen and notebook again. Her lips curve upward into a wide grin, clearly satisfied as she glances back at the grimace on her best friend’s face.

 

“Thanks again, Wendy,” she suddenly says, causing the Vice President to raise a brow.

 

“For?”

 

“For helping Seulgi avoid suspension and,” Irene pauses, briefly looking up to meet Wendy’s gaze, “for also her giving her a chance.”

 

And without a second thought, Irene returns to writing. Smiling quietly to herself.

 

But Wendy remains still, staring pensively.

 

You’re grateful for that?

 

It’s not a surprise though. Just a natural thing, even now, for Irene to be thinking of others. Thanking Wendy for a favor on behalf of someone else. Always caring too much of everyone around her and less about herself.

 

Wendy wishes she can change that--just the tiniest bit, but to do so is futile.

 

This, she already knows.

 

The years between them are evidence of that fact.

 

You never change.

 

//

 

Nearby is the sound of drifting voices. Some fade in. Others fade out. And in the background, the distinct noise of lockers slamming are followed by footsteps, echoing and coming closer.

 

She sits on a bench alone. Her hands fold together in her lap, clenching tighter and tighter until her nails begin to dig into her skin. Only when it becomes too much does she ease her grip, relaxing her fingers to feel the soothing sensation of pain slowly fade away from the indents left behind. Over and over again.

 

Seulgi keeps her focus on the floor, taking one deep breath after another, shaking off the nerves that have already arrived.

 

At the locker room across from her, Mark emerges, flashing her a smile.

 

“You ready, Seulgi?”

 

She stands easily enough, masking her anxiety.

 

No jitters.

 

No trembles.

 

Just a nod and a grin.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

 

//

 

They climb the stairs up to the stadium seats. Slowly, step by step, shoulders bumping against strangers also making their way. Irene quickly grabs hold of the railing for support as she ascends, trailing after Wendy and Joy. Her eyes dart about in amazement.

 

“How many schools are here?” Irene gasps, taken aback by the sheer amount of people present.

 

“Ten?” Wendy shouts over all the noise. “Or was it twelve?”

 

“There are twelve attending the Foothill League Finals this year,” Joy confirms, already having made it to the top. Then with a rare seriousness Irene isn’t used to, she points and gestures for them to hurry. “Come on, I want to get good seats so they can hear us cheering for them.”

 

They worm their way through the crowd as Irene sticks close to Wendy, both hands latched onto the shorter girl’s shoulders, not wanting to get separated. And somehow, through all the bodies blocking their way, Wendy manages to follow Joy just fine. All the way to the very front where the seats are closest to the track.

 

One by one, they sit and watch as the athletes begin to come out onto the field. Some stretch in the grass, most of them walk the track, and a few simply stand, idly chatting with their competitors. Then finally, familiar faces catch their eye as they appear from one of the entrances.

 

Joy is the first to stand, cupping her hands together to shout their names, her voice surprisingly covering a great distance. Loud enough for Wendy to recoil away and touch her ear in discomfort.

 

“Seulgi! Mark! Johnny!”

 

And Irene quickly follows suit, clearing before shouting as loud as she can. Hoping that she’s not drowned out by everyone else.

 

“Seulgi! Over here! Mark! Johnny!”

 

They wave their arms, uncaring of those behind them, trying to get their attention but none of the three look their way. With such a huge stadium and so many people in the audience, they’re easy to overlook, lost in a sea of many faces.

 

A minute passes and as her arm begins to tire out, Irene thinks that maybe they won’t get noticed. It’s a shame but it’s not like much else can be done. They’ll just have to cheer as loud as they can once the events begin. But then, just as Irene’s about to stop, their perseverance pays off as the three track members finally catch sight of them, leaping and waving in reply.

 

Mark and Johnny seem to be shouting back, their mouths moving in exaggeration, perhaps hoping that their lips can be read even if their calls don’t reach. And it’s a silly sight that has Joy shaking her head, laughing, and Wendy sighing at their antics.

 

On the other hand, beside the two boys, Seulgi is rather calm. Her face void of the same level of excitement that Mark and Johnny appear to exude. Giving a small wave back and a shadow of a smile.

 

Nearly unnoticed.

 

And worry is helplessly cast onto Irene from the sight.

 

But when their gazes meet, Seulgi points down and Irene’s eyes follow.

 

The heartthrob taps the tip of her shoe against the ground. Once, twice, three times, before flashing a thumbs up. The gesture is minimal. The signal is simple. And it draws a grin upon Irene’s lips.

 

She understands it well enough.

 

Irene jumps and yells as loud as she can.

 

“You got this, Seulgi!”

 

--

 

Suddenly, Johnny slings his arm around Seulgi’s shoulders. Leaning closer and cupping a hand around his ear as his expression seems to twist into one of deep concentration. The heartthrob slowly tilts her head away, confused as to what one half of the mischievous duo was up to.

 

“If you listen hard enough, I'm pretty sure you can hear Irene calling your name,” he laughs, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

 

Then right on cue, Mark quickly joins in.

 

As always.

 

Because if one of them starts, the other is never too far behind. He nudges her side, unable to contain the smirk spreading across his face.

 

“Why don't you go over there and say something to her before the opening ceremonies start?”

 

“Something like, ‘I’ll be sure to get first place for you, babe!’” Johnny suggests with, what is no doubt, the worst imitation Seulgi’s ever heard of herself that it’s almost offensive.

 

The heartthrob scoffs, “Is that how you think I talk?”

 

And Mark chuckles, clearly enjoying himself, “I thought it was a pretty good impression.”

 

Seulgi rolls her eyes and nimbly untangles herself from Johnny and Mark, extending her strides and pulling two paces ahead of them. She motions her hand in the air as if to brush off their words. Swatting away their pointless teases.

 

“You two are hopeless,” she sighs. And although their proposal is only due to their usual antics, they’re not far off. Just a little too late. “Besides I've already told Irene what I needed to,” she reveals, turning to face the boys with her signature smirk. “Now, I just have to show her and follow through.”

 

A familiar glance is exchanged and in unison, the duo shrug.

 

“Always so cool, huh?”

 

//

 

The starting pistol fires and everything bursts into action. Swift and thunderous. Everyone around her leaps, shouting and screaming. Their stomps shake and boom as the runners spring into motion. Blazing down the track.

 

But Wendy remains still.

 

Slowly sliding towards the edge of her seat with her eyes quietly trained on the runners. She watches their feet pound against the ground, ing them forward as if they were flying. Faster and faster. Her stare narrows, unable to look away.

 

Following them.

 

Holding her breath.

 

In all her life, Wendy has never seen anyone move so quickly--not in person at least. And they weren’t just fast. No, there’s a certain grace. The nimble way they move and how they manage not to collapse and trip over their own two feet. How they carry themselves like the wind.

 

It leaves her in awe.

 

And she would’ve never imagined that it would be Seulgi leading. Outdoing the rest. Leaving them all behind as if they’re crumbs trailing after her. Passed and forgotten.

 

How?

 

The difference is preposterous.

 

As they close in on the finish line, voices around her rise to a deafening volume.

 

“Go, Seulgi!”

 

“Come on!”

 

“You’re almost there!”

 

And when the other competitors start to catch up, minimizing the gap, Wendy can see it--the sheer determination on Seulgi’s face. The desire in her eyes and her every effort to push herself forward.

 

Almost desperately.

 

So unlike the usual.

 

Run.

 

The end is meters away.

 

Run.

 

Wendy finds herself slowly rising.

 

Run.

 

And as Seulgi crosses the finish line, coming in first, Wendy unconsciously applauds. In that moment, she can’t deny it. A simple surrender to the words that echo in her head.

 

I don’t halfass anything, Wendy.

 

//

 

It’s race after race and it all begins to sink in. Standing still feels almost foreign now, but her legs turn to lead and her shoulders droop as exhaustion starts to take its toll, despite her efforts to push it away. So much so, that she resorts to taking a seat. Catching her breath and resting, even if it’s only for a minute or two.

 

“You good?” Mark asks, using his towel to wipe the beads of sweat away from his temple.

 

Johnny follows close behind and sits beside her, handing the heartthrob his extra water bottle. Their movements are sluggish compared to earlier in the day. Shirts damp from perspiration. Hair disheveled from the wind. Seulgi uncaps the water, taking three large gulps.

 

That’s right.

 

She’s not the only one who’s been giving it her all.

 

“You’re not tired are you?” Johnny teases, weakly nudging her.

 

And it’s enough to crack a smile on her weary face.

 

“I should be the one asking you guys that question.”

 

They share in laughter that’s soon reduced to heavy sighs. Evidence of fatigue biting at their heels. But it’s not over yet.

 

There’s still the Mixed 4 x 400 meter relay left.

 

The final event.

 

Seulgi forces herself to her feet. Stretching her arms and legs. She turns to the boys, fire rekindled in her eyes, “Just get the baton to me as fast as you can and we’ll get the gold.”

 

The duo glance at each other, nodding with matching grins.

 

“Sounds easy enough!” they chuckle in unison.

 

And all three put their hands together, rallying their spirits one more time.

 

--

 

The teams come out back onto the track. On the outermost lane, Irene spots Seulgi, Johnny, Mark, and another female teammate conversing. With six races past and at a least a bronze medal won in each, Irene wonders how they’re even able to stand, especially Seulgi after having participated in all three of the women events. The 100 meter, the 200 meter, and 4 x 100 meter race. Securing a gold medal for all of them.

 

Sweat veils her forehead and as they speak, Seulgi rolls her neck every so often. Blinking slowly as they chuckle from whatever jokes are shared between them, waiting for the ready. They may not want to show it and they’re probably trying their best to ignore it, but even from up here, it’s not hard to tell how burned out they are.

 

“Runners, please line up for our final event--the Mixed 4 x 400 meter relay!”

 

Irene’s ears perk up at the announcement.

 

“Mixed?” she utters.

 

“Teams doing this relay consists of both men and women this time,” Joy clarifies without sparing a glance. “And each runner has to complete a lap around the track before handing over the baton unlike the 100 meter relays they did earlier.”

 

“A full lap?” Irene repeats to herself, brows helplessly knitting together. “That’s going to be tough, isn’t it? They all look so--”

 

“Tired?” the cheerleader cuts in, softly smiling back at her. “You’re right, but you know how hard Mark and Johnny have practiced. You know how Seulgi is. Right now, they have nothing but winning in their minds.”

 

“So we just have to cheer as loud as we can one more time, right?” Wendy speaks up, much to their surprise.

 

One last time.

 

Irene clears , warming up her voice.

 

“Right.”

 

--

 

The first runner on each team wastes no time in taking their positions. Mark stands ready, bouncing from one foot to the other, his right hand gripped tightly around the baton with his trademark playfulness completely absent from his face. Eyes hardened and focused. Jaw set in concentration or perhaps, clenched from nervousness.

 

The speakers boom, “On your mark.”

 

The stadium falls to a hush. Faint voices pop in here and there but all else is still. Mark crouches, taking slow breaths as he keeps his gaze focused on the ground.

 

“Get set.”

 

Slowly, he raises his hips while keeping his shoulders in place, pushing his foot completely back against the block. His arms start to tremble--just the slightest bit. Drops of sweat fall from his forehead to the ground. The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat echo in his ears. Faint but escalating.

 

He takes one more deep breath.

 

The gun goes off and everything explodes all at once. Roars and stomping from the stadium seats quickly overcome the previous silence as Mark gives his all, pushing both feet off of the blocks and launching himself as far as possible. Pumping his legs as fast as he can.

 

He runs.

 

--

 

The baton is passed and their third runner, Johnny, takes off running faster than Irene’s ever seen him run as they struggle to keep their first place lead. But his impressive display seems to be equally matched as the other teams aren’t far behind. The ones wearing black and yellow have been right at their tails from the start, surprisingly keeping up even now.

 

“Come on, Johnny!” Irene and Joy yell together.

 

His face contorts as he musters all he can. The last burst left in him. And by some miracle, he picks up speed, gaining distance between him and the other competitors as he makes his way to Seulgi. The heartthrob hops, calling Johnny’s name, ready for the pass.

 

And when he closes in, slapping the baton into her waiting hand, Seulgi bolts.
 

--

 

She feels it every time her feet hit the ground. Adrenaline coursing through her veins. Lungs wanting for air. And her calves burning from it all. Seulgi tries to keep her breathing steady as she pushes harder. Sweat trickling down her forehead as well as the nape of her neck.

 

Faster.

 

The runner beside her--she can feel his determination fueling him as his pace quickens and he enters her peripheral vision, trying to overtake her.

 

Faster.

 

--

 

Irene watches with her hands clenched tightly together. Eyes laser-focused on Seulgi as they reach the halfway point of their lap--her and the other runner, neck and neck.

 

Leaving everyone else behind.

 

It’s too close.

 

She stands on her toes as they approach the finish line.

 

And she yells as loud as she can.

 

“You can do it, Seulgi!”

 

--

 

The end is in sight and Seulgi’s legs are starting to give in.

 

But not yet.

 

Not now.

 

Faster.

 

It’s a mantra in her head. Constantly repeating.

 

Fueling her.

 

Forcing her to go beyond her limits.

 

Faster.

 

The heartthrob swings her arms, pushing herself harder. Her legs struggle to quicken as she’s on the verge of collapsing.

 

More. More.

 

She needs to give all that she has left.

 

Her grip tightens on the baton in her right hand.

 

Desperate.

 

Almost--

 

And all is mute as she catches sight of something near the finish line. Instantly, she goes cold. The burning in her lungs and muscles dissipate as if they’re nothing. And in that moment--a moment that seems frozen in time--she’s blank and she forgets how to function.

 

Forgets to finish the race.

 

Forgets to keep running.

 

Until what seems like an eternity later when Johnny’s and Mark’s shouts bring her back, telling her to move. Time resumes and the world returns. She picks up her speed again but the recovery is too late.

 

She crosses the finish line.

 

Second place.

 

--

 

Irene blinks in shock and a bit of disbelief. Hands clasped together against her chest from the nerves that had built up.

 

Everything happened so quickly.

 

One second, Seulgi was leading--perhaps only by a few feet--and then the next second, the runner beside her pulled ahead, finishing just mere inches in front of the heartthrob.

 

And mere inches are all that’s needed to win.

 

Everyone begins to applaud as the race draws to a close with the rest of the teams swiftly completing the relay. Irene’s never seen Seulgi outdone. Not even in practice. Witnessing her in anything but first is a surprise that leaves agape.

 

But surely not in disappointment.

 

Her fingers unweave, hands parting to clap along. Growing Louder. Almost thunderous. Yes, Seulgi gave it her all and made it so far--made it so close to completely sweeping out the competition. And it’s a complete triumphant in Irene’s eyes.

 

Pride swells in her chest as she jumps up and down, cheering Mark’s name, Johnny’s name, and Seulgi’s.

 

--

 

Seulgi slows down to a brisk walk, keeping her head down. Unable to look back. Her hands rest at her hips as her chest heaves up and down, trying to catch her breath. Her jaw tightens and she curses herself.

 

Pathetic.

 

Someone seems to be calling her name. Like a muffled voice underwater. The beating in her ears drowns them out.

 

Memories come rushing back.

 

Unwanted but helpless.

 

She hisses in frustration.

 

Why?

 

Her legs quiver, asking for rest, but still, she continues walking. No, she doesn’t dare stop. Even if each step is heavy and strained.

 

Not right now.

 

//

 

The closing ceremony comes to an end with a more than fruitful outcome on their part. Three golds, two silvers, and two bronze medals across all seven events. Mark and Johnny’s previous boasting rings true.

 

An undeniable victory.

 

On the field, the teams begin to make their exit, exchanging handshakes and congratulations as they pass one another. And despite their weariness, Mark and Johnny are all smiles. Somehow jumping around with what little energy remains, showing off the medals dangling from their necks. But trailing behind by quite some distance is Seulgi, taking her time with slow strides. Head hanging low and hair obscuring her face.

 

It’s enough to make Irene wonder.

 

The people around her begin to rise from their seats, getting ready to leave. Joy shakes her shoulder and then grabs her arm to pull her up.

 

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s wait for them at their bus.”

 

Irene nods at the mercy of the cheerleader effortlessly dragging her away. Then, in the corner of her eye, a peculiar sight catches her attention.

 

Seulgi’s stopped dead in her tracks as a man in a suit approaches her. And Irene narrows her gaze, trying to make out his face. Thinking that maybe she might recognize him but to no avail--not with everyone walking past her, moving in and out of her field of view.

 

And then, to Irene’s surprise, Seulgi walks with him as the rest of her team heads to the locker rooms.

 

--

 

They stand in the far off corner of the field. At a wall near the entrance where prying eyes can’t so easily discover them and the footfalls are enough to hush their voices.

 

Just him and her.

 

The realization slowly sinks in. Crawls into her skin like a spreading chill. And suddenly, the air is heavy between them. An occurrence so commonplace, it’s easily ignored.

 

Everything comes back in waves.

 

A familiar numbness returns, enveloping her.

 

“You were really amazing out there,” he smiles. “I knew you were good but I didn’t know you were that good.”

 

The words ring hollow to her ears but honestly, she doesn’t care. What matters right now is a question that’s been on her mind from the moment she spotted him near the finish line.

 

“Why are you here?” Seulgi asks, not bothering to hide her waning patience as her monotone voice gives it all away.

 

Yet, it doesn’t deter him.

 

It never did.

 

“The coach of my school asked if I could help out. You know, keep the track team in check and help supervise since he’s been feeling a little burnt out lately. It never crossed my mind that you might be here too. Funny, isn’t it?”

 

The smile on his face grows but it’s too wide. Too toothy. So unnaturally forced. And Seulgi has the urge to discard it then and there. A hideous feeling that she tries so desperately to suppress but failure hides in her shadow and lingering emotions begin to emerge, rising to the surface.

 

“Absolutely hilarious,” she hisses, unable to mask the edge in her voice.

 

There it goes.

 

“Seulgi--”

 

“Yunho,” Seulgi cuts in. “I’ll be frank. I’m not interested in catching up or any of that nonsense. Just get to the point. Why did you pull me over here?”

 

All too quickly, his smile fades and he shoves his hands into his pockets. His eyes seem to survey the area, scanning about. A small delay for an answer Seulgi can already guess. He breathes a deep sigh, one so big that his shoulders slump and he hunches slightly from a weight she cannot see.

 

“For more apologies.”

 

The heartthrob scowls, folding her arms across her chest. She taps her right index finger against her arm--a distraction to help steady her voice.

 

Tap.

 

Tap.

 

Tap.

 

A rhythmic beat to help keep her in line.

 

“I’ve already had enough of those and I don’t need anymore.”

 

“From me, that’s certainly true,” he nods. “But there’s one person you haven’t completely heard out.” Instantly, Seulgi stiffens. “Back then, after everything that happened, she said you never answered her texts or emails.”

 

The tapping stops and she grasps tightly at her sleeve. Wary of how much harder it is to maintain her composure. How the numbness is beginning to subside.

 

All so easily.

 

She detests it.

 

“Because there was no point,” Seulgi says. “Everything was already said and done.”

 

She’s had enough of the explanations, excuses, and apologies--worthless things repeatedly given to her. Because sorry is a word she’s grown long tired of. Especially from him and most of all, her. Those words did nothing but hurt.

 

And so, on her own, she had put it all to rest.

 

Yunho tilts his head and looks at her with a gaze she could never stand. Dark eyes that always seemed to look through her whether she liked it or not.

 

“Do you really believe that?” he asks in what’s almost a whisper. Though his voice reaches her easily enough as if it’s inescapable. “You always looked like you were trying so hard.”

 

Her jaw clenches from the concern laced through.

 

“Don’t talk like you understand me.”

 

And it comes out louder than she intended.

 

Harsher.

 

Deep within, she can feel herself starting to slip. Dangerously unravelling. Seulgi focuses on each breath drawn in and out, refusing to crumble.

 

This is nothing.

 

It’s nothing.

 

Yunho doesn’t fight back this time. Instead, he comes closer, stopping right beside her with their shoulders nearly touching. And the heartthrob doesn’t dare look up at him. Her eyes keep forward, boring holes into the wall as she waits for him to leave.

 

“She’s going to be back in town next weekend for a small break,” he says. “I hope that the two of you will talk.”

 

Nothing.

 

Silence quickly filters in between them. He takes one step then two, barely leaving her side when he stops to speak one last time.

 

“And Seulgi, I just wanted to say--”

 

“You’re sorry?” she cuts in.

 

“No,” he utters softly. “Thank you.”

 

Seconds pass and finally, he’s gone, leaving Seulgi behind.

 

In the cold.

 

In the quiet.

 

Alone.

 

Where she's safe.

 

“That’s not something I wanted to hear either.”

 

//

 

“There they are!” Joy says, pointing ahead.

 

Mark and Johnny are the first who come into view, making haste, followed by the rest of their team. Heavy medals swing around their necks, clanking into each other. The sharp sound rings closer and closer causing the girls to wince. Proudly, the two boys puff their chests, showing off their achievements.

 

“As expected, we dominated!” they exclaim.

 

To which Joy, Wendy, and Irene respond with booming applause, showering them with praise.

 

“I thought you guys were exaggerating at first but I was wrong,” the Vice President admits, nodding her head. “Great job out there.”

 

And the smiles on the duo’s faces widen, reaching their ears, unmistakably elated to have impressed their once skeptical friend. Then simultaneously, as with almost everything they do, they turn to Joy. Anticipation plainly written on their expressions.

 

The cheerleader arches a brow, “What?”

 

“We’re waiting,” they sing as if hinting for some kind of reward.

 

“Please,” Joy scoffs. “Unlike Wendy, I had full confidence in you all from the beginning.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, this is all you get.”

 

Once again, Joy offers them a round of applause and a teasing smile.

 

“Hey, come on--” Mark whines.

 

“Where’s the enthusiasm?” Johnny criticizes.

 

And both frown from the lackluster effort given to them. Like children, they continue to grumble, pouting their lips shamelessly. Though they know full well such tactics no longer work on Joy. Not after they’ve tried so many times before already.

 

“Don’t you know how I tired I am?” Joy complains, exaggerating as she rubs in her neck. “I cheered for you guys nonstop for the last couple of hours.”

 

The bickering continues back and forth, back and forth, ceaseless as the rest of the track team boards their bus. Wendy watches with a look of both annoyance and amusement while Irene simply giggles, wearing an unfaltering smile. Eventually, Coach Kim peeks his head out the door, telling them they’re to depart in five minutes.

 

And Irene blinks, turning about, searching.

 

“Where’s Seulgi?”

 

Johnny pauses. Confusion flashes in his eyes upon realizing the heartthrob’s absence. And just as he’s about to speak, Wendy interrupts.

 

“Speak of the devil.”

 

Behind them, slowly approaching, is the girl in question. Walking with languid steps. Her duffle bag weighing heavily on her right shoulder causing her to slouch.

 

“There’s the MVP!” Mark shouts, beckoning Seulgi to hurry on over.

 

“What took you so long?” Irene asks.

 

“I was just taking my time packing my things,” the heartthrob says, passing her a small grin--the tiniest curve on her lips. And somehow, it feels rather odd. But perhaps it could simply be from exhaustion, Irene tells herself. Yes, maybe that’s it.

 

“Well, you were amazing out there. Congrats!” Irene cheers.

 

And in response, Seulgi nods, “Thanks.”

 

One word is all, free of any teasing or boasting. No usual antics. And although Irene wants to attribute it to the unquestionable fatigue Seulgi must be feeling, a flag goes off. Irene’s brows furrow together and she wants to reach out and ask why. Her hand nearly moves to do so but then Joy speaks up.

 

“Hey, it’s almost been five minutes already,” the cheerleader states, glancing at her phone for the time. “Hurry up before Coach Kim leaves you guys behind and you miss out on the celebration dinner.”

 

Immediately, Mark and Johnny scurry into the bus, clumsily shouting ‘thanks’ and ‘see you later’, while Seulgi follows at her own pace, giving Irene a small parting wave.

 

“Thanks for coming. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

And Irene can’t shake it off--the feeling of something amiss.

 

//

 

At home, Wendy commences her nightly routine. Washing up first before preparing her things for school. She wanders her room, towel drying her hair with one hand while she picks up the litter on the floor with the other. Just tiny scraps of paper and little candy wrappers from last night when Irene slept over.

 

Wendy shakes her head.

 

For two people so cleanly they somehow always manage to make a mess when they’re together.

 

As she walks back to her desk, she discards the trash into the nearby waste basket. Wendy takes a seat, gathering all her loose papers--assignments she had finished, activity flyers and the sort--and tucks them away into a folder, waiting to sort them out later. One by one, she neatly places her textbooks and notebooks into her bag. But when it comes to the last one, a purple notebook lying at the corner of her desk, she pauses.

 

Uncertain.

 

The Vice President stands to reach for it, unwary as her knee bangs against the desk and the notebook tumbles onto the floor.

 

“Ow!” she yelps from the jolt of pain. Gently rubbing at the newly formed bruise to soothe it.

 

When the aching subsides, she kneels down to grab the notebook. Its pages bent and sprawled open from the fall. But as she comes closer, her hand freezes as something intriguing catches her eye.

 

She scans over the page once.

 

Twice.

 

Five times to be certain.

 

And still, she remains perplexed, not knowing what to make of it.

 

//

 

Irene stares out the window where gray clouds hide the sun and the rain continuously pours down. Tree branches gently sway from the wind passing through, slightly dancing. She watches as droplets travel down the glass, sliding and leaving streams. Over and over again.

 

The soft pitter patter begins to escalate, turning light sprinkles into steady rainfall. Loud enough that it seems to muffle her surroundings as Mr. Choi’s lecture barely reaches her ears. And the rest of her class fades into the far background.

 

Lost in her thoughts of yesterday.

 

And lost in her thoughts of this morning.

 

Irene can’t let it go.

 

Yesterday, the unusual behavior was understandable. After all, Seulgi was no doubt exhausted after the track meet. So Irene tried not to dwell on it, passing it off later into the night as nothing. But even this morning, Seulgi barely uttered a word to her on their way to class and perhaps, she’s overthinking it but something at the pit of her gut tells her otherwise.

 

And that alone is enough.

 

Why?

 

//

 

Irene hurries over to the cafeteria, briskly walking through the empty hall with two lunches in hand. She glances at a clock on the wall for the time. Fifteen minutes late. She frowns, recalling how difficult her test was, hoping the extra time she spent on those last two questions do her some good. All that studying with Wendy and the test still managed to throw a few curveballs her way.

 

Ridiculous.

 

She shakes her head, freeing herself of the lingering stress.

 

What’s done is done.

 

Soon, the deafening roar of numerous voices welcome her into the cafeteria. She weaves through crowds of students huddled around tables, making her way to the usual round table towards the back where Mark, Johnny, and Wendy greet her. Irene passes a smile and sits, eyes wandering for a brief moment when the realization hits her.

 

“Seulgi and Joy aren’t here yet?” she asks.

 

Mark is the first to speak. “Actually, Seulgi was here earlier--”

 

“But then she left,” Johnny finishes.

 

Odd. More odd than usual as the heartthrob either shows up or doesn’t. Never does she drop in and then leave. Perhaps, she has something to attend to, Irene thinks. But then, wouldn’t she have told her?

 

Curiosity must’ve been evident on her face as Wendy seems to answer her thoughts.

 

“She said something about wanting to clear her mind,” the Vice President adds in, taking a sip of her water.

 

The reply only raises more questions, reminding Irene of the gut feeling she had yesterday. The dull tone of Seulgi’s voice echoes in her head as the faint image of her weary smile emerges--it’s wrong. Exhaustion was the sensible reason. And maybe, that’s truly all it really was.

 

But Irene can’t ignore it.

 

This nagging in the back of her mind compels her.

 

“Where’d she go?” Irene further inquires.

 

All three exchange glances and shrug, utterly clueless.

 

“Outside,” a familiar voice answers and they all turn to see Joy making her late arrival.

 

When she takes her seat, she slouches and folds her arms across her chest, appearing rather annoyed, emphasized by the deep frown set on her face. “Where else could that idiot be? Whenever she needs space or time to think, she runs it off,” Joy clicks her tongue. “It’s a stubborn habit.”

 

And Irene rises to her feet, quickly making her exit.

 

//

 

Burning lungs.

 

Cold skin.

 

Her muscles seem to scream for rest, holding her back, but still she runs in a never ending loop around the track.

 

Always lost in circles it seems.

 

Back then.

 

Now.

 

It doesn’t matter.

 

She clenches her teeth, picking up the pace, attempting to empty her mind. Bring back the numbness and let what lingers fade away. Bury what managed to resurface because Seulgi doesn’t want to remember.

 

Not at all.

 

She’s tried so hard since back then and yet, how easily one encounter shakes her. A hiss passes through her frigid lips, swearing it’ll never happen again.

 

In the rain, with each breath, it becomes easier.

 

Easier to cover the cracks.

 

With her damp sleeve, Seulgi wipes the rain from her eyes. She squints and sniffles. And her legs continue forward, telling her not to stop.

 

But in the near distance, there’s a girl with an umbrella waiting at the edge of the track. She shouldn’t be here, Seulgi thinks, frowning as she spots the look of concern on her face. Knitted eyebrows and pouting lips. An expression she’s grown far too familiar with.

 

Seulgi slows down to walk, taking small steps as she approaches. And as she draws closer, the heartthrob prepares herself.

 

Face to face, the umbrella is raised over Seulgi’s head, giving her shelter.

 

“Why are you out here?” Irene asks softly.

 

“I wanted to run and clear my mind,” the heartthrob nonchalantly replies. Though, a little too quickly. She pauses, takes in a breath, and throws on a small grin--as much as she can muster for the moment. “Why else would I be out here?”

 

Seconds tick by without a reply and rainfall fills the void between them as Irene scans her from head to toe. Her pout morphs into a frown.

 

Seulgi expects what’s coming next.

 

“You’re going to get sick if you stay out here much longer. Let’s go back inside.”

 

No, she’s not ready.

 

“I don’t get sick,” Seulgi argues, eyeing Irene’s damp left shoulder. She fixes the way Irene angles the umbrella, making sure the girl is covering more of herself, but Irene is for some reason resistant. Tipping the umbrella so that Seulgi is once again protected entirely.

 

“Seulgi, you’re human,” Irene says. “You get sick.”

 

And what does that matter?

 

They’re just simple words formed from worry. Easy enough to shake off. Seulgi takes a step back and turns away.

 

“I’m going to run a little longer.”

 

Footsteps follow after her. The sound of metal wiring collapsing and fabric folding catch her ear. And right beside her, Irene matches her pace. Droplets stream down her face, soak through her clothes as the closed umbrella is clutched tightly in her right hand, refusing to be used.

 

“Fine, then I'll run with you,” Irene declares.

 

And Seulgi stops dead in her tracks.

 

“No, you won't,” she almost shouts back. Just listen and go, she wants to tell her. But the heartthrob bites her tongue.

 

Everything is slipping.

 

“Yes, I will. Rule number one--I’m in charge. And even if you still don’t want to listen, it doesn’t matter,” Irene shakes her head and steps closer to her. “If you’re just going to do what you want, then I’ll do the same.”

 

So persistent. So stubborn.

 

It reminds her of the day Irene kept pleading for her help and how she eventually gave in. This time, yet again, surrender isn’t so far as Seulgi stays mum. Wanting to argue back. Wanting to refuse. But she’s voiceless and frozen in place.

 

Irene offers out her hand. Small and shivering. But despite the cold, warmth is found her eyes and gentle words beckon the heartthrob.

 

Reaching for her.

 

“Come on.”

 

Seulgi shouldn’t.

 

She can’t.

 

And she doesn’t move an inch, barely batting an eye as she stares at Irene’s open hand before glancing away. Inside, something is gnawing at her. Inside, she draws closer to the edge. Teetering back and forth.

 

Don’t.

 

She wants to run.

 

But fingers wrap around her wrist and pull her along. Nothing is spoken. No resistance is given. Irene simply leads, holding onto Seulgi with all her might. Her tiny voice moves through raindrops, laced with care that strikes the heartthrob harder than she could’ve ever imagined.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Nothing, she wants to say.

 

Nothing at all.

 

But she’d be a fool to utter such a blatant lie.

 

Seulgi’s free hand clenches into a fist, nails digging into her palm. On the tip of her tongue are words desperate to be freed. Feelings wanting to escape and breathe. Buried so deep for so long, they’ve shaped her and carved this hollowness.

 

Just speak.

 

“I…” Seulgi starts and instead, a reason far removed from the truth is given. “I broke my promise. I told you I’d win but that last race… I choked and didn’t come through for you or for my team.”

 

A coward’s way out.

 

Irene stops and turns around. Hair and clothes completely soaked through. But still she smiles.

 

“So have you given up? There are more chances for you to fulfill your promise, aren’t there? So until then, I’ll keep watching you. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, Seulgi.”

 

It’s a simple statement but the weight is almost unbearable. Seulgi can’t understand it. She doesn’t know why.

 

And a sudden apology falls from her lips.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Irene tilts her head to the side, blinking in confusion, “Sorry? For what?”

 

There’s no answer as Seulgi can no longer find her voice. Her jaw tightens with her lips pressed into a thin line, hanging her head.

 

“Hey,” Irene whispers as she cradles the heartthrobs face, lifting it up. Her thumbs press upwards at the corner of Seulgi’s lips, making a smile. But when their eyes meet, Seulgi can’t hide what’s behind her gaze--a darkness that feels like solitude.

 

Immediately, Irene removes her hands from the heartthrob’s face and wraps her arms around her, gently pulling her into hug. Letting Seulgi’s head rest against her shoulder.

 

Softly, she sighs, “You really are an endearing idiot.”

 

And Seulgi’s arms stay limp at her sides. Her fingers twitch, hesitating.

 

In the rainfall, they remain still.

 

In the quiet found between raindrops, Irene caresses her head, fingers playing through her damp hair. Warmth emanating from her skin.

 

And in her embrace, Seulgi stays.

 

Hands empty and cold.

 

Unsure.

 

Unable to hold anything.

 

--

a/n: wow, it’s been forever but i finally freaking updated lol i know i always apologize for this but i have to lol soooooo, sorry for the wait! I was so busy with things like family, moving, the holidays, and games of course lol but i’m finally able to post this! Ugh, hopefully my writing pace is faster in 2019 lol hmmm i don’t wanna make this note too long so as always, thank you so much to everyone for reading! Thank you to all the subscribers, to those who upvoted, everyone leaving a comment, and also the silent readers! Oh and thank you to all the readers who contact me on twitter as well! There have been so much of you lately and i’m always so touched when you guys say you’ve read my fic and liked it haha.

 

I wish you all happy holidays! Here’s hoping that 2019 is a great year for all of us! Also, it’s been another year and this fic still isn’t finished lol thanks for sticking with it.