IV. Apology

 

“I like you.”

 

Irene stares wide-eyed and speechless at the boy with chocolate brown hair and smiling eyes in front of her. The basketball spins in his hands, waiting for a reply. But her lips stay sealed and her mind blank.

 

“I, um, don’t know what to say,” she stammers. “T-Thank you.”

 

He laughs. Gratitude isn’t what he was looking for, she’s sure.

 

“You’re welcome. So what do you say, can I take you out on a date?”

 

A date. She hadn’t been on one of those yet. Usually at this point, for every guy and girl before him, Irene would reject them. But at this moment, she couldn’t say no. Why was that?

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Then, how about we make deal?”

 

Her ears perk up with curiosity as he walks to the center of the basketball court, dribbling along the way. The squeak of his shoes and the impact of the ball echoed throughout the empty gym. Rays of sun filtered through the shutters and the high windows, he stops.

 

“If I make this shot,” he smiles, “then we go on a date. Deal?”

 

Her eyes gauge the distance from the hoop to where he stood. A difficult shot, even for him. If he succeeds, then she must go on a date with him. If he fails, then nothing happens. A part of her sways and she decides, maybe it won’t be so bad.

 

“Deal.”

 

He bends his knees, holding the ball high above his head, ready. Irene watches with held breath. And when he springs, the ball soars in a beautiful arc ending in a swish, straight through the net. He runs towards her, beaming.

 

“One date is all I’m asking for and only if you really want to.”

 

A deal was a deal. And honestly, she found herself happy to oblige.

 

“Sure.”

 

 

Her eyes struggle to open as sunlight seeped through the curtains. She must’ve slept in longer than usual. But as she starts to peel the blankets off of her, she stops. Odd. This was not her bed. Which meant this was not her room. Immediately, she sits up and winces from the mildly painful throbbing near her temple.

 

“Ouch,” she hisses.

 

Then, she hears it. A bit of snoring. She turns her attention across the room and there sleeping awkwardly in her chair near the foot of the bed was Kang Seulgi. Arms folded across her chest, a blanket barely covering her legs, and her head thrown back with her neck craned painfully, mouth slightly agape. And although the sloppy way she slept looked uncomfortable, Irene couldn’t help but find it cute.

 

The heartthrob shuffles a bit in her sleep, turning her body, scooting this way and that when she suddenly jolts awake as she nearly slips out of her chair. Irene quickly clamps a hand over , restraining herself as she almost bursted into laughter.

 

Seulgi lazily recovers, forcing herself to stand as she yawns. Her arms stretch towards the ceiling, blanket falling at her feet. She turns.

 

“Oh, you’re awake,” she says with a bit of surprise. “Wait here. I’ve got some coffee brewing.”

 

And she returns with a cup of coffee in hand. Fresh and piping hot. Irene could smell it from the doorway as Seulgi entered the room again. She gives a thankful nod and takes a sip, immediately flinching as the liquid travels down . Bitter. No creamer or sugar, straight black.

 

“How are you feeling? Got a hangover?”

 

Seulgi seems to evaluate her with her eyes. Scanning her face for any signs of discomfort or sickness.

 

“Just a small headache.”

 

“You’re lucky.”

 

Lucky? Irene blinks. A flash in her head. Fragments of last night, bits and pieces, start to play in her mind. But it was all a haze. Muddy faces. Muzzled voices. Save for two that she could vividly recall but one more than the other--Seulgi and Minho.

 

The way he looked at her and the inconvenience she caused Seulgi. How could she have been such an idiot?

 

“Seulgi, about last night I--”

 

“Let’s not talk about last night. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

 

Irene nods, staring down at her cup of black, somewhat thankful that Seulgi didn’t care so much for what happened. She holds her breath and takes another sip.

 

“You’re not nauseous anymore right? You’re good?”

 

Irene’s fingers curl tight around the mug. White fog is all she could see when she closed her eyes. Just what happened? How bad was last night?

 

“Nauseous? Did I throw up or something?”

 

Seulgi counts on her fingers.

 

“Maybe three or four times.”

 

Her cheeks burn and she starts to stutter from embarrassment.

 

“O-Oh my god. I’m so--”

 

“It’s fine, just answer my question.”

 

The taller girl appeared to be in a rather impatient mood, cutting Irene off at all instances and directing her straight to the point. The latter wonders if she may have done something to annoy the heartthrob. Unfortunately, there was no way to know given the holes in her memory. So Irene simply answers as requested.

 

“Yes, I feel fine.”

 

Seulgi nods, satisfied, as she begins walking back towards her desk. Scattered clothes littered the floor and she tiptoes around them, kicking a few to the side. The front drawer slides open and Seulgi pockets her wallet.

 

“Good. Then, I’m taking you on a date today.”

 

The mug in her hands nearly slips out of her grip, tiny drops of coffee hit the floor.

 

“A date? I hardly think--”

 

“Don’t think. Just trust me.” Seulgi throws on her jacket, zipping it up halfway. Her keys jingle in her pocket and she flashes her signature grin. Irene hesitates. “We’ll drive by your place. You’ll take a quick shower and get dressed. Then, we’ll go.”

 

She attempts to reason once more.

 

“Seulgi--”

 

But the taller girl leaves no room for excuses or opposition.

 

“Irene, I swear, if you don’t get up from my bed right now I will carry you to the truck myself.”

 

She chugs down the rest of her coffee.

 

 

//

 

 

The truck rattles as it comes to a halt and then the engine stills. There’s a jingle of keys and they’re pulled out from the ignition. Irene stares out the window, marvelling at the sight before her. A coiled metal statue displayed on the left. Another on the right more similar to the sculpture of a man. Then, a dome of stained glass in the center. And many more all lined the winding path, leading up to a building of different rectangular shapes morphed into one, black and white, as if it were a modern art piece itself. Pretty.

 

Her door opens with a metallic groan and Seulgi assists in unfastening her seatbelt and then helps her out of the truck. Families, kids, couples, friends--all kinds of different groups of people were all heading in the same direction.

 

Seulgi gives her a small pat on the back.

 

“Come on.”

 

She walks and Irene follows closely, reaching out and hanging onto the sleeve of Seulgi’s jacket. They pass a sign that reads SM Art Museum.

 

 

--

 

 

They finally reach the front of the line and approach the ticket booth. For some reason, the man operating it immediately smiles and leans forward across the counter.

 

“Back again, Kang Seulgi?”

 

Again? Irene glances back and forth between them, surprised at the tone of familiarity.

 

“Of course.”

 

And Irene seems to catch his attention as he blinks at her repeatedly.

 

“Oh and you’ve brought a friend this time. Who might this be?”

 

An arm wraps around her shoulder, pulling her close. Seulgi puts a hand on her hip, straightening her back and puffing her chest out as if to boast.

 

“My date,” Seulgi says.

 

Not sure how to react, Irene does a tiny wave with her fingers and a courteous nod.

 

“Date?” he gasps. “Wow, well she’s quite pretty.”

 

“Pretty is an understatement for Irene,” Seulgi scoffs. “The word ‘beautiful’ is more fitting, don’t you think?”

 

This time, Irene is able to contain the blush creeping up to her cheeks. The man laughs and shakes his head. Obviously, he was fairly used to Seulgi’s antics.

 

“You’re as smooth as ever. Irene, was it? Hi, I’m Brian,” He turns toward her, extending his arm out and they shake hands.

 

They were rather soft for a man’s. Actually, the overall features of his face were quite gentle. His hair swept back in curls, the rounded shape of his jaw, and the tender gaze in his dark eyes. It was easy to feel comfortable around him.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Irene replies.

 

He motions her closer and with a whisper she’s sure wasn’t meant to be discreet, he tells her, “Let me give you some advice. Don’t fall so easily for the sweet things Seulgi says. She likes to talk a lot.”

 

“I know,” Irene chuckles.

 

Seulgi’s reputation seemed to extend everywhere.

 

“Smart girl,” he says.

“Gee, thanks, Brian,” Seulgi steps closer to the counter to join them, rolling her eyes.

 

“The girl deserves a fair warning.” Brian shrugs and reaches under the counter. He slides two tickets over to Seulgi. “Anyways, here. It’s on me.”

 

The heartthrob doesn’t hesitate in accepting the gift. She eagerly snatches the tickets and gives them a quick examination, smiling with satisfaction.

 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

 

“Other than my good looks, my generosity is all I have,” Brian winks. “Enjoy your date.”

 

With a hand on her back, Seulgi ushers Irene away from the ticket booth and towards the front entrance. The taller girl looks back with one last wave.

 

“Thanks!”

 

Irene does the same.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Looking more closely, half of the front of the building was entirely made of glass, stretching nearly thirty feet upward before becoming metal plates of black and white. Pillars that lead to nowhere stretch from its side and the taller portion of the building sticks out from the back. Striking bold magenta letters hang at the corner, simply saying, “SM Art”. Irene looked up in awe. The architecture was unique and like nothing she’d ever seen.

 

Massive glass doors slide open and they enter. Her eyes wander as she mindlessly trails after Seulgi. She didn’t even notice that they had already handed over their tickets or that they were walking up stairs. And Irene nearly trips from being so distracted, luckily she catches the railing.

 

Paintings, sculptures, portraits. Her eyes continue to roam. There was so much. And she collides into Seulgi, her nose hitting the back of the latter’s shoulder.

 

They stopped outside the entrance of what looked to be a rather vast room. By ones, twos, and fours, people entered. Irene eyed them curiously as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, wondering what was beyond.

 

“First, you almost trip. Now, you hurt your nose,” Seulgi smirks, turning around. “You should really pay more attention to where you’re going. Or maybe I should’ve just held your hand?”

 

Irene glares and decides to ignore her statement--she was getting better at that.

 

She takes one more look at her surroundings. The area was dimly lit, low lights against dark chestnut walls. They seemed to have strayed away from the paintings and sculptures. Up here, photographs lined the walls.

 

“I didn’t think you liked art,” Irene ponders aloud. Judging from what Brian said earlier, Seulgi was somewhat of a regular.

 

“I like a lot of things, Irene. You’d be surprised.”

 

Kang Seulgi, art enthusiast, she says in her head. For some reason, it wasn’t as farfetched as she initially thought. Oddly enough, it was well-suited.

 

“How about you? Any interest?”

 

Irene shakes her head. Her experience with art or anything creative has never gone beyond crayons and coloring books. Maybe a little doodle on the corner of her notes every now and then but that was it. Visiting art museums, taking classes, learning pottery--she never considered any of the sort. She didn’t really have a knack for it.

 

“That’s fine, we’ll start here.”

 

Seulgi gestures her to follow. They walk through the entrance with the next group of people and the room opens up. Small hanging lights, framed photographs different from the ones outside--more intense, more personal, more dramatic. Men and women crowd around a single frame, some move to the next, others proceed to see more in the other room where it continued. They stare, completely immersed. Whispers bounce around, deep in discussion.

 

Irene steps further into the room and folds her hands in front of her. Standing there in the midst of everything else made her feel... so small. She couldn’t explain why, only that she did.

 

“This museum likes to hold a lot of different exhibits every month. I thought you might like this one,” Seulgi says approaching Irene from behind, bending down a bit to rest her chin on the shorter girl’s shoulder. Irene could feel her breathing. “Why don’t you take a look around?”

 

Irene turns her head to the right, their eyes instantly meeting.

 

“What about you?”

 

Everyone shuffles about to a different photograph. More people enter and it’s beginning to get more and more packed. Seulgi straightens up and takes one step back.

 

“I’ll follow. Lead the way.”

 

Irene glances around nervously. She wasn’t quite sure where to start. Was she supposed to just pick a point of interest and go? Was there a set order or recommended way of looking through the exhibit? With tiny steps, she inches forward, barely moving at all. She looks back at Seulgi, insuring that the latter was indeed following and the heartthrob gives her an encouraging smile.

 

Irene decides to just start at the beginning and work her way around. After all, she might as well look at everything.

 

She didn’t know much about photography or the art of it. Pretty scenery, take a picture. Special event, take a picture. Out with some friends, take a picture. Then maybe add some filters to spice it up a bit. And the only camera she knew how to operate was a cell phone camera.

 

That was it.

 

She stands at the first frame, boggled at the sight before her. How anyone could make an incredible photograph such as this and all the rest was beyond her.

 

It was red. A deep red sky and it seemed to swallow her whole as she stared at it. Below, looking up at the sky, was a man alone in the wastelands. isolated in the dark. The only source of light was the crimson above and her eyes start to water from the intensity of it.

 

She didn’t understand how the photograph was made or what it meant, only that it was haunting.

 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” a woman says.

 

“It truly is,” the man beside her replies, adjusting his glasses.

 

Irene weaves past the crowd starting to gather and moves onto the next subject of interest.

 

A black and white portrait of a woman. She sat posed, staring off into the distance.

 

The one next to it a bright contrast of colors as the camera followed a man through, what seemed like, a flea market. Blurs of passerbys on either side of him as he was the only one in focus.

 

A man with a cigar, the smoke obscuring his face.

 

One after another, she looked at them all.

 

They were amazing. But no matter how amazing, Irene just wasn’t sure she understood any of it. All the images, memories, locations preserved. Poses, lighting, angles. The subject. Irene stops and turns around, her eyes scan the room once over until she settles on the taller girl standing in front of her, waiting patiently.

 

“These photographs are amazing, Seulgi. But I’m not sure I’m able to appreciate them as much everyone else here,” she sighs.

 

She wasn’t like them. Fellow artists, art enthusiasts, art connoisseurs. She was just a normal high schooler who’s last art class was in middle school and had zero experience in photography. Why Seulgi decided this for their date was a mystery. And why was she in such a rush? Why did they have to go today?

 

“Art is to console those who are broken by life,” Seulgi says, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling. “It’s a quote from Vincent Van Gogh.”

 

A crease surfaces at the space between Irene’s brow.

 

“Is that why you brought me here?” she asks, somewhat confused at what Seulgi was getting at.

 

The heartthrob brings her head back down and reaches her hand out. She softly presses the wrinkle knitting Irene’s brows together, ironing it out with her finger. And then it ghosts downward, barely tracing the bridge of Irene’s nose. A slender nail tickling her skin. She stops. Irene watches warily and then flinches backwards when Seulgi gives the tip of her nose a playful pinch.

 

“Ouch!” she pouts, glaring at the taller girl, covering her nose.

 

Seulgi simply chuckles, unapologetic.

 

“I brought you here because maybe you’d realize something. But we don’t have to talk about that right now,” And Seulgi starts to walk down the small hallway into the other room. “Come on, we’re almost done looking through the exhibit.”

 

Irene slowly trails after her. As she enters the room, she notices it wasn’t as large as the last. Only a considerably small remainder of the exhibit seemed to be left. There was more space between each hung frame, which meant less photographs were on display. But they were bigger. Much bigger than any previous ones she saw.

 

Irene leads and Seulgi follows again. She eyes the images more hastily, less worried about examining and interpreting the details. But she thinks harder, she wonders more, and she questions herself what these photographs seemed to say.

 

A faraway overhead shot of a man floating in the ocean.

 

A snowy landscape where a woman looked over the railings and towards the mountains, nearly her entire back covered in white by the ongoing blizzard.

 

A collapsing barn abandoned on the prairie, decaying. Next to it, in contrast, a house on the countryside bathed in sunlight, alive.

 

A black and white image of a man passionately playing his saxophone mid-performance. Eyes closed and fingers dancing.

 

Irene looks and looks and looks, thinking. Then, she stops and this time, she actually gets closer to the next photograph. Her stare hardens.

 

It was dark. The two figures, a man and a woman, almost looked like silhouettes with their faces mostly covered in shadows. They sat in front of each other in a dark hallway, knees curled tight to their bodies but the space is so narrow their knees touch. They seemed to stare at one another, arms limp at their sides and hands barely brushing the other’s as they lie palm up on the floor.

 

Irene tilts her head to the left.

 

There was more than enough room in that hallway and yet, they sat like that.

 

If one only moved, then they wouldn’t be touching. If one only moved, then they wouldn’t be so close. If one only moved...

 

And maybe, that was the point?

 

They wanted to stay.

 

Irene lingers longer than she intended. And when she forcefully tears herself away, walking to the next photograph, she feels her gut sink with each step.

 

Why?

 

All the photographs after are just indistinguishable blurs passing before her eyes, barely leaving a trace of their existence. Only shadows lingered in her mind where the man and woman hid. It was all she could think about. It was all she could see.

 

And she sinks. Deeper and deeper.

 

When finally, she comes to and she’s outside of the room near a stairway. The end of the exhibit. Seulgi wraps an arm around her shoulder.

 

“Let’s get something to eat,” Seulgi suggests, guiding Irene as they walk down the stairs.

 

 

//

 

 

Irene didn’t have much of an appetite. The drinking seemed to have gotten to her more than she thought. So instead of stopping at a restaurant, Seulgi pulls up at a Starbucks drive-thru, getting coffee for the two of them and a croissant for herself. As usual, Seulgi didn’t talk but she did turn the radio up a little louder this time.

 

Irene’s fingers curl tight around the plastic cup, feeling the heat pour into her palms. She stares out the window, counting every person they drove past.

 

One. Three. Seven. Twelve. Fifteen. Twenty-three.

 

Not many people around. Perhaps it was just the time of day or maybe they were all somewhere else. Where could they be? What could they be doing? Two people come to mind and try as she might, it was impossible not to wonder.

 

She takes a sip of her coffee. The bitter hot liquid burns the tip of her tongue.

 

It was all this stupid wondering that always got her into trouble. Don’t start again, she tells herself and hazy visions of last night pop into her head. How could she have been such an idiot? Irene bites the rim of the coffee cup cover.

 

Such an idiot…

 

“Irene, we’re here.”

 

She blinks at the sound of her name, turning to the girl beside her. Somehow, Irene hadn’t realized it but they were already parked outside her house. Seulgi kills the engine and the radio fades as static crackles over the sound system for a brief moment and then silence.

 

“I’ll get the door,” Seulgi says, unbuckling her seatbelt and she exits the driver’s side.

 

The door opens with a heavy groan and Seulgi carefully frees Irene from her seatbelt, holding her hand as she steps out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk. Quietly, they walk to the front steps of her house. The sun was starting to set and cold evening winds were blowing in. She grips the coffee in her hands closer to her chest for what little warmth it could give.

 

“What did you think of the exhibit?”

 

Irene looks behind her to where Seulgi stopped about five steps away. Hands stuffed in her pockets, face expressionless, she just stood there watching her.

 

Suddenly, those five steps between them feel like a rift. Under the gaze of those keen eyes, she shivered and anxiety starts to crawl up . Her thumb scratches at the rim of her coffee cup, nervous. For some reason, she hopes Seulgi doesn’t get any closer. For some reason, she’s scared.

 

“It was interesting,” Irene simply answers.

 

She takes a large gulp of coffee.

 

“That photograph was nice, wasn’t it?”

 

Seulgi didn’t say which one but she didn’t have to. Irene knew exactly what she was talking about. The man and woman in the hallway. She feels her lips drying out and takes another sip.

 

“An intimate moment like that captured and preserved, it makes a beautiful piece. I wonder what you thought when you saw it. You stared at it for an awfully long time.” Seulgi takes two steps closer, crossing the rift. “I can only guess what you were thinking.”

 

Irene takes another drink of her coffee. Empty. She bites her lip. The heartthrob her head to the side, eyes dissecting Irene, reading her like a map.

 

“What is it?” Irene manages to ask, shivering slightly as a small breeze passes by.

 

“Irene.”

 

No playfulness. No cocky tone. Just an unsettling heaviness to her name. And when Seulgi sighs, Irene’s jaw tightens.

 

“Let me say this, you can always look back at pictures. They never change. But the places and people in them do. That wasteland we saw could be a garbage dump now. The beautiful house on the countryside could be little more than a run down shack. Two people who are in love one moment in time can fall out of it in the future. Friends back then could be enemies now. And one’s life could be perfect but later come crashing down.”

 

Another step closer. The rift is gone and Irene could feel a painful throbbing near her right eye, just behind her brow.

 

“Pictures are nice to look back on but you can’t stare at them forever, Irene.”

 

The way she said her name. So distant. Like the first time they spoke, she flipped the switch.

 

“It was just a moment. Eventually, you’ll have to start looking forward. Do you get what I’m saying?”

 

Say yes. Say no. Say something. But Irene’s lips can barely part to say a single word. Beneath Seulgi’s gaze, she shrinks away, cowering. Her fingers curl tighter around the empty coffee cup as she struggles to keep eye contact.

 

The sun barely peeked over the horizon and soon it would be gone. They stood quietly, bathing in its orange glow. Seulgi looks up towards the sky dyed in shades of purple and pink. A deep breath.

 

“Irene, I’m here to help you. You asked me and I said yes, so don’t think I’m taking this lightly. But I can only help if you’re ready and that’s a stage you have to come into on your own.”

 

Ready? The word repeats in her head. The cup in her hands begins to distort from her grip.

 

“Do you really want to move on or are you still asking yourself, why? Why you broke up? What you did wrong? Or if things were a little different, if you had tried harder, would you still be together--why aren’t you still together?”

 

Irene finally looks at Seulgi, wide-eyed and jaw hanging, as if the latter had been lurking within the deepest confines of her mind. How did she know? How did she know so well? Those thoughts have always plagued her, endlessly without rest. And Seulgi read her like an open book, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.

 

Seulgi’s gaze falls back onto Irene’s, eyes like stones of onyx. Emotionless and unreadable. All that could be seen was her own reflection.

 

“Because if you’re still asking those questions then you don’t want to move on. You still want to be with him.”

 

Irene wants to deny it. She wants to say Seulgi’s wrong. But the thing is, she isn’t. And they both knew.

 

“When you finally accept the way things are, when you’re really ready, then I can help you. But you have to get there on your own. Until then all I can do is be your pretty little accessory that makes Minho angry.”

 

She’s at a loss for words. After all, what could Irene possibly say when Seulgi’s laid it all out on the table. With nothing to hide, nothing to confess, there was only thing she could say.

 

“I’m sorry, Seulgi.”

 

The heartthrob shakes her head.

 

“Don’t apologize. I knew what I was signing up for.”

 

Then, with her hand, Seulgi gently tips Irene’s chin upward, “The question is, what is it that you really want?”

 

And she pulls away, taking five steps back.

 

”Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Irene.”

 

 

//

 

 

She tosses her keys onto the desk and it crashes with a sharp jingle that echoes throughout the room. Scattered clothes from earlier still littered the floor, trailing from her bathroom door to the side of the bed. Seulgi flips the light switch on and picks them up one by one. Her nose crinkles at the smell of vomit.

 

She doesn’t remember how much Irene threw up on her, only that she started to hurl as they exited her truck and Seulgi needed to hold her hair back. How many times she changed clothes that night, carrying Irene back and forth from the bed to the toilet bowl, getting hit by splatters as she heaved, Seulgi doesn’t know. But it was more than the three or four times she told Irene.

 

Perhaps, six?

 

The girl was lucky to have skipped an insufferable hangover.

 

Seulgi tosses the clothes into the washer and it spins. The dryer could wait till morning,

 

Back at her desk, the front drawer struggles to slide open. She fiddles with it a bit, prying it up and down by the handle until it complies with a grunt. Inside was her pile of sticky notes. One by one she places them back in their rightful spots on the bulletin board. All except for one.

 

She rubs the note between her thumb and index finger, contemplating as she read what was written.

 

 

Irene can’t move on--seems like she’s not ready?

What to do?

Observe her more.

Where does she really stand?

 

Seulgi did what she could, hoping that what she said earlier would be enough. Now at the crossroads, it was up to Irene. Only she could decide which path to take.

 

“What will you do, Irene?” Seulgi asks beneath her breath, crumpling the note and tossing it into the trash.

 

Her phone vibrates in her back pocket. She could only guess who it was and usually she was always right. She unlocks the screen and clicks the message notification. Looks like this time was no different.

 

 

Annoying Cutie: Hey bear, what kind of souvenir do you want?

 

BearSeul: Wow, you still have money to buy me something?

 

Annoying Cutie: Cute :\ here i was thinking of you and of course, you get sarcastic

 

BearSeul: Aw, come on. How about some Pringles then lol

 

Annoying Cutie: Too late, you missed your chance when you decided to get smart with me. I’m just going to surprise you with something ;P

 

 

Seulgi starts to type her reply but the next message pops up almost instantaneously.

 

 

Annoying Cutie: Also, I heard something interesting...but I’ll save that for when I see you :) It’s late over there, right? Go to sleep. I’ll just text you later~ xoxo

 

 

The heartthrob falls onto her bed. Blankets and pillows in disarray from when Irene slept there last night.

 

 

BearSeul: Night. Don’t buy me anything weird >.>

 

 

That last message, “heard something interesting”. She knew. She definitely knew. And Seulgi was sure, she was going to get interrogated when she came back.

 

“Great,” she sighs, crawling into her mess of blankets to sleep.

 

 

//

 

 

In the dark, she sits at the foot of her bed, staring into the palm of her hands at the LED screen. She swipes and she swipes and she swipes. Just how many photos did she have in her gallery? And how many of them had him?

 

One dates back two months ago. Another nearly half a year. And the last one she looks at before locking her phone screen was three months after they started dating.

 

Irene falls back, the springs of her bed squeak beneath her weight. Moonlight shined through the window above her bed and in it’s light she could see all the specks of dust floating above her. Slowly, they fell. Swaying and dropping wherever they may.

 

What would it be like, she wonders.

 

Let her float and wander aimlessly without a care. Take her somewhere. Anywhere. Wherever.

 

If only it were that easy.

 

But Seulgi was right. Despite having made this plan, asking for help, writing up a contract--she was stuck. She didn’t want to move.

 

Pictures are nice to look back on but you can’t stare at them forever, Irene. It was just a moment. Eventually, you’ll have to start looking forward. Do you get what I’m saying?

 

Her eyes shut.

 

Everything closes in.

 

All is still.

 

She breathes.

 

And she lays there.

 

Seconds bleed into minutes and time ticks away, leaving her behind--for how long will she be left behind?

 

Her fingers run through her hair, nails raking her scalp. A hiss mixed of relief and frustration passes her lips. Her nails dig in just a bit--a little pain. The sensation was oddly soothing.

 

She tries to conjure a dream, hoping it’d help her fall asleep. But there was nothing. Vast emptiness with no escape is all that laid waiting behind shut eyes.

 

She’s lost.

 

What time was it now?

 

She forces her eyes open. It’s gotten darker. Clouds covered the moon and it was as if their looming shadows were swallowing her whole. Like everything else, she gave into them.

 

She always gave in--self-pity and sadness.

 

And she curses herself for being so weak. For feeling like this. For being afraid. Held down for so long, unwilling to move and too hesitant to free herself--to look forward--she bites her lip, the tip of her fang barely piercing flesh as it digs deep, stinging.

 

Enough was enough.

 

Take a leap. Just one giant leap. Take the plunge and if you fall...

 

Irene sits up, cradling her phone in her hand. She opens her photo gallery again. One last look.

 

You can get back up again.

 

She deletes everything. Zero remained. One by one, she deactivates her social media accounts. No more temptations. No more wondering. No more questions of why.

 

The final push.

 

Time to move on.

 

And she deletes Minho’s number from her contacts.

 

But there was more to be done. Irene rises to her feet, switches on the lights, and rummages through all her cabinets and drawers. All the gifts he gave, the mementos she kept, the pieces of him, they needed to go. So she plucks each item from their safekeeping, tossing them into the corner behind the door. Tomorrow morning, she’d bag it all up and get rid of them. After all, you can’t look back if there’s nothing there.

 

Irene wipes the sweat from her brow as she continues looking through the next set of drawers. Tonight was going to be a long night but it was time to move on and this time, she meant it.

 

 

//

 

 

Irene slouches at her desk and her arms drop to her sides, exhausted. The muscles in her lower back ached, her arms were sore, and her legs were restless. She had dedicated her entire weekend to cleaning out her room. And as she looked through everything, she became more and more reluctant to let them go but she had to and when she let them fall from her fingers into the pile to be discarded, there was a small sense of relief. Like a breath of fresh air.

 

Renewed and relaxed.

 

She sighs, class was about to start. Irene fixes her posture and flips her notebook open to the first blank page she sees. Her eyes linger at the doorway of the classroom.

Nothing. No one.

 

 

Where was Seulgi?

 

 

//

 

 

The cafeteria was as loud as ever. Everyone sat at their usual spots as if they were assigned seats. Eating the same food. Talking to the same people. Why Irene thought today would be any different, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was because someone was missing and it just wasn’t sitting right with her. So she continues to watch the entrance, hoping a certain heartthrob would come waltzing in with a lopsided smirk plastered across her face. But five minutes pass and no such person walks through.

 

She takes the first bite of her sandwich.

 

Maybe she should send a text? Or maybe she was just a little too worried for nothing. This was Seulgi after all but at the same time... this was Seulgi.

 

They hadn’t seen each other since their date and Seulgi didn’t send any messages or phone calls either. On top of that, she wasn’t waiting by Irene’s locker this morning. Call her paranoid, but it just didn’t sit right with Irene.

 

She sets her sandwich down on her tray and her fingers drum in her lap in thought.

 

When you finally accept the way things are, when you’re really ready, then I can help you.

 

Seulgi couldn’t have possibly… quit on Irene, could she?

 

She quickly shakes her head, ridding herself of those thoughts. No. Seulgi wouldn’t do that to her. She promised.

 

“Yo, Irene--”

 

“What’s up?”

 

Irene snaps out her trance to see Mark and Johnny take the seats across from her, cheerful as ever. Perhaps they would know the heartthrob’s whereabouts.

 

“Have you guys seen Seulgi?” she asks.

 

The two look at each other and shrug. Her shoulders slump. Irene thought as much.

 

“Don’t worry, she’s always off somewhere,” Mark grunts as he opens his bag of chips.

 

There’s the loud crinkling of plastic and then a pop. The smell of salt drifts out. He offers some to Irene but she politely declines with the shake of her head. Johnny on the other hand takes a handful and dumps it on his tray.

 

“Besides, we have track practice today so she’ll be here,” Johnny reassures, his fingers clean.

 

Irene’s attention wanders back to the entrance. Still, no one. But that’s right, she’d almost forgotten that Seulgi was on the track team. And Johnny sounded quite certain that track was something Seulgi wouldn’t miss.

 

“Does Seulgi really like track that much?” Irene tilts her head, curious.

 

“Dude, yes!” Mark blurts with a full mouth and Irene flinches at the crumbs that fly her way. The blonde-haired boy bows his head apologetically, swiping the mess off the table.

 

Johnny leans in closer, smiling excitedly, “Have you seen her run?!”

 

She stares at them both wide-eyed. From their reactions, Seulgi must really love track. But the thought of an overly enthusiastic Seulgi is somewhat hard to imagine given her nonchalant demeanor. Then again, Seulgi seemed to have a number of interests that didn’t quite suit her at first glance as Irene thinks back to the art museum.

 

“What are you guys yelling about now?”

 

Irene’s eyes dart towards the familiar voice. Relief washes over her.

 

“Speak of the devil,” Johnny sits back, turning his head towards Seulgi who was making her way over.

 

Mark remembers to finish chewing this time, “Where have you been?”

 

The heartthrob circles around to take the seat next to Irene. She props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Irene watches her carefully. Her uniform was unkempt with the collar of her shirt ruffled and the sleeves of her blazer rolled up. Around her neck, her tie hung loosely as if she had just thrown it on as an afterthought. But it was the bags under her eyes that stood out most. They made her look utterly tired.

 

Did she not get enough sleep over the weekend?

 

The corners of Irene’s lips pull downward as she ponders.

 

“What does it matter?” Seulgi sneers.

 

And though she tried to play it off, she sounded tired too.

 

The two boys glance back and forth between Irene and Seulgi. Both sigh and momentarily set their lunches aside. Mark folds his hands on top of the table and Johnny mimics him. They clear their throats and straighten their backs. If someone were to walk by they might have mistaken their table for having a rather serious discussion.

 

“Kang, you made your girlfriend worry,” Mark explains calmly. “And she was asking if we knew where you were--”

 

Johnny chimes in, “Now, you don’t have to tell us where you go but--”

 

“You should at least tell her,” they finish in unison, nudging their heads toward Irene.

 

Seulgi blinks in surprise and turns to her.

 

Irene didn’t realize how hard she was staring or what kind of face she was making but she must’ve looked somewhat distressed as Seulgi’s eyes soften and she ends up chuckling a bit. She pokes Irene’s forehead causing the latter to jerk backwards.

 

“My bad,” she smiles gently--different from the usual--but only for a moment and Irene could only nod. “So, what were you guys talking about?”

 

The two boys shrug.

 

“We were just telling Irene about how good you are,” Mark says as he pulls his tray back toward him, going straight for his bag of chips.

 

However, Johnny seemed to have forgotten his lunch altogether as he leans over the table again, closer to Irene.

 

“Kang is so messy and clumsy, you’d think she ran like an ogre but actually, it’s pretty amazing how graceful she is,” the chestnut-haired boy laughed. “She’s just weird that way.”

 

With a heavy sigh, Seulgi slumps all the way back in her chair, sinking until she slouches, “Have I ever told you guys that you talk too much?”

 

They laugh.

 

A second ago she seemed exhausted, then she was apologetic, and now she was the usual Kang Seulgi. Always flipping a switch. And though, Seulgi acted like she was alright, Irene was not entirely convinced. True or not, she was still bothered by Seulgi’s absence this morning as well as her abnormal appearance.

 

Then again, Irene was always one to be overly worried.

 

“Can I come watch? I don’t have any dance practice this week so…” Irene trails off, searching their eyes for approval, shifting back and forth.

 

Mark and Johnny give a small nod and smile, happily agreeing. On the other hand, Seulgi doesn’t respond so eagerly as she simply says, “Sure. Whatever you want.”

 

Easy compliance unbefitting of the heartthrob. Not so much as a smirk, a wink, or any kind of bold gesture. Even with Rule number one, Seulgi had never given in so easily and that only bothered Irene more.

 

“No, I’ll only go if you want me to,” Irene states, staring hard back at Seulgi. “I want you to ask me.”

 

Rule number three: Irene may request Seulgi to say or do whatever she wants within reasonable limits.

 

From the way Seulgi raised her eyebrows, she must have gotten the hint. Across from them, Mark and Johnny coo like highschool girls, holding onto each other as they watch the scene before them unfold. Irene’s nails dig into the skin of her palm as she tries not to waver under Seulgi’s piercing eyes. What thoughts laid beyond that gaze?

 

Soft fingertips caress the back of Irene’s hand and gently, Seulgi raises it to her face as she scoots closer. Her lips barely hover over Irene’s pale skin with each breath brushing her knuckles. And it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to maintain eye contact as Irene can feel the heat rise to her face.

 

With a voice as smooth as velvet, Seulgi says, “I’d love it if you came to practice, babe. Please?”

 

There it was and Irene shuddered at the pet name.

 

“O-okay,” she stutters, trying to pull away but it only encourages Seulgi to move in closer.

 

“Great.”

 

Mark and Johnny practically jump in their seats with excitement causing heads to turn their way if they hadn’t already. One could practically feel the dozens of pairs of eyes gaping at them. But Irene was too busy staring at the lack of space between their faces to care.

 

She bites her lip.

 

“Too close, Seulgi,” Irene says under her breath, barely loud enough for the heartthrob’s ears.

 

The cafeteria becomes louder. People are starting to talk again. And Seulgi smiles smugly at her.

 

“I really do like the look on your face,” she whispers back before finally letting go of Irene’s hand and scooting to where her seat originally was. “Hey you two, stop jumping around and finish eating already.”

 

The command falls on deaf ears though as Mark and Johnny continue to prance around their table.

 

Irene brings her hand down to her lap, still warm from Seulgi’s touch. She always did stuff like that and so effortlessly too. How?

 

The blush on her cheeks begins to recede when all of a sudden her phone vibrates in the pocket of her blazer. Irene takes a quick glance at the screen. Another message from the same number that’d been texting and calling her since Sunday morning. And like all the messages before, she doesn’t bother reading it, locks the screen, and tucks her phone away.

 

She was better off not paying any attention to them.

 

 

//

 

 

Fast was an understatement.

 

Every time her feet would hit the ground it as if she flew forward. Quick and light steps that held so much power, she seemed to be running on air. Never on the ground for too long. Just flying past everything and everyone. Irene watched in awe from the bleachers. What Mark and Johnny said about Seulgi was no joke.

 

The 300m sprint.

 

Seulgi was practicing, running alongside the other boys and she didn’t just keep up. She was outrunning all of them. Dashing past each one like a gust of wind with such incredible ease it left Irene’s jaw hanging.

 

The final stretch and to no one’s surprise, Seulgi comes in first. She hunches over, hands on her knees and her chest heaving for air. After a good fifteen seconds, the rest start to fall in. Beads of sweat trailed down from their foreheads to their necks. The back of their shirts damp from perspiration. Other members of the track team hand out water bottles and they talk and laugh while they rest. Seulgi in particular was smiling from ear to ear.

 

“Hey, I was looking for you.”

 

Irene’s shoulders stiffen. She hesitates to turn around.

 

His footsteps get closer and closer until he’s standing beside her, leaning against the railing in front of the bleachers just as she was. Too late to escape now.

 

“I tried calling and texting you over the weekend but you didn’t reply. I wanted to know if you were alright,” Minho confesses. “I even forced myself to talk to Seulgi this morning to ask if you were okay.”

 

The last bit comes as an utter shock to Irene and she finally looks at him. Is that why Seulgi was missing during the morning? But seeing his face, peering into his eyes, was a mistake as she feels a dull ache within her chest. The hollowness.

 

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that,” Irene tries to smile. Her nails scratch at the peeling paint around the railing.

 

You’re ready, she tells herself. You can do this.

 

“A simple text would have been alright, you know, just to tell me you were fine. That party--” He shakes his head and with obvious disappointment, asks, “What were you thinking getting hammered like that? You and I both know you’re a lightweight, Irene. Why?”

 

The thing is, she wasn’t thinking and she was anything but fine at the time. Forget, feel nothing, lose all of her cares--even if only for a moment. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she was doing. So she let the alcohol pour, burning , finding comfort in the pain. Little did she know how fast things would escalate. But at the time, it didn’t matter. She didn’t care.

 

Why?

 

Because of him. That’s why. Because of Minho.

 

But she couldn’t tell him that, could she?

 

“I just wanted to get loose and have fun,” Irene lies, feigning the best smile she possibly could. “Guess I just went overboard.”

 

Minho wasn’t an idiot. He was one of the few people who knew her best. And yet, he had the tendency to be rather oblivious when Irene was acting. Falling for her fake smiles more times than she can count. Perhaps it was because he didn’t like to pry. Still, for once--just once, she hoped he could tell. But he never could and this time was no different.

 

He sighs, “Good thing Seulgi was there then, I guess.”

 

He hated admitting that. She knew.

 

“Yeah,” she nods.

 

Across the field, they lined up for another sprint. Seulgi wipes the back of her neck with her towel before tossing it to the side. A grin still present on her face as she gets into the ready position. Coach blows the whistle and Seulgi’s already on her feet, far ahead of the rest.

 

“Listen Irene, I may have overstep my bounds trying to help and take you home but Seulgi made it clear that I shouldn’t be the one to do that anymore, it’s just--” He pauses, taking a deep breath and exhaling through his nose. Calming himself. He often talked fast when he was frustrated. “We may have broken up but I still care for you. You’re still my friend, Irene. And as my friend, I just wanted to look out for you. I’m always going to want to look out for you.”

 

She turns to him with a perplexed look. Honestly, how was she supposed to respond? Happy because he cared? Angry because it just wasn’t fair? Her jaw tightens.

 

“Minho,” she says, her voice sounding more bitter than expected, “saying stuff like that doesn’t make things easier for me. So I’d you rather you just didn’t…”

 

And it seems she can’t continue. Her voice simply dies. Bottom lip quivering at the words failing to come out. Her nails scratch harder at the railing in her grip.

 

“I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” Minho apologizes.

 

His hand reaches out to her, hovering above her shoulder but he stops when she shakes her head. She didn’t want his comfort. Before she might have but now she knows that his warmth wasn’t something she could accept, not if she really wanted to be done with him. So he pulls back.

 

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” Irene reassures, focusing her attention on the track. The runners were nearly done with their sprint. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

 

For a moment, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything. Minho simply stands there, studying her and Irene does all she can to keep it together.

 

Steady breaths. Count to ten. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

 

Seulgi finishes first again.

 

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

 

“Okay,” he breaks the silence. “Take care, Irene.”

 

Ten.

 

Minho finally leaves.

 

 

--

 

 

Water drips from the corner of her lips as she chugs the rest of the bottle down. She lets out a refreshing gasp, reminding herself to be better hydrated next practice. Her rolled up sleeves do little to alleviate the heat. She plays with the collar of her shirt, cooling herself.

 

“Damn Kang,” Jackson jogs by, nudging her arm. “Two practice runs in a row and you always gotta come in first, huh?”

 

With the back of her hand, she wipes the sweat falling from her chin.

 

“Of course,” Seulgi smirks. “How could you expect any less from me?”

 

Everyone starts to gather their things, packing up after a successful practice. Seulgi drapes her towel over her bag, slinging the strap across her shoulder. She never carried much. Just some water, a change of clothes, and her towel.

 

“Hey, about Friday night, Irene end up okay?” Jackson asks with evident concern on his face. His eyes quickly glance over to the bleachers then back to Seulgi.

 

“Yeah, for the most part,” Seulgi nods as they cross the field. “Just a lot of vomiting.”

 

He breathes a sigh of relief, “Considering how much she drank, I’m not surprised.”

 

Jackson was a good guy. Since the day they met he’d always been extremely caring towards others. Sometimes a little too much for his own good. But that’s just how he was and Seulgi was thankful for it. People like that were hard to come by especially among their peers.

 

“Hey Jackson, thanks for looking out for Irene.” She should have thanked him sooner but seeing Irene completely out of it that night--well, expressing gratitude was the last thing on her mind. “I should’ve been paying closer attention to her. I didn’t think she’d end up going to the party, let alone get wasted.”

 

She clicks her tongue.

 

That was something she didn’t consider because honestly, she didn’t think Irene was that desperate. Sad, sure. Hurt, of course. But to the point of nearly passing out after drinking her weight’s worth of alcohol, not caring that the people there might take advantage of her? No. But clearly, Seulgi was proven wrong. And that rarely ever happened. From this point forward, all of her observations would require more deliberation.

 

There would be no repeats of that night.

 

“It happens,” Jackson pats her shoulder, flashing her a tiny smile. “By the way while you were running, you saw him, right? Minho talking to Irene?”

 

At the same time, they gander at the bleachers where Irene stood resting against the front railing. She waves.

 

“Yeah, it’s nothing to worry about,” Seulgi assures as she starts to walk faster towards Irene’s direction, leaving Jackson behind.

 

“You sure?!” he calls out.

 

Not entirely. But she was going to find out.

 

Without looking back, she waves him goodbye, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jackson.”

 

 

--

 

 

“Bye Irene!”

 

Irene directs her attention to the far right side of the field where Mark and Johnny were jumping up and down, waving as they shouted her name repeatedly. A tiny giggle escapes her. After getting to know them a bit during lunches, she found them to be a rather silly pair with their synchronized way of talking and ridiculous enthusiasm, especially when they were around Seulgi. Nevertheless, they were always enjoyable to be around.

 

“Bye!” she shouts back, her whole body swaying back and forth as tried to wave with as much fervor as they did.

 

And the two boys kept jumping and waving until they were no longer in sight. Irene pants from all the energy she just expended trying to copy them.

 

“Running isn’t exactly the most the exciting to watch, is it?”

 

Behind her, Seulgi was walking towards her wearing her usual lopsided smirk. And somehow, despite having ran almost nonstop for the past hour or so, she looked unexhausted.

 

Irene shakes her head.

 

“Mark and Johnny were right. You’re amazing,” she confessed.

 

Seulgi stops about three feet away from Irene as she leans with her back against the railing.

 

“As if I didn’t already know that,” the heartthrob boasts shamelessly. “Ready to go?”

 

Irene doesn’t speak. Instead, she walks to the nearest bleacher and quietly sits as Seulgi’s eyes study her, confused. She pats the space beside her, inviting the other girl over, “Actually, could we talk?”

 

No questions. No whys or other inquiries. Seulgi simply follows as requested, walking over and dropping her bag to the side as she takes a seat.

 

Silence. The track field was empty. Only the two of them remained. Her hands knot together in her lap, slightly ruffling her skirt. She stares at them. Talking was never her strong suit especially when it came to her own feelings. But saying it out loud--it’s what she needed to do. It’s what Seulgi deserved as well.

 

Deep breaths. On the count of three.

 

“About Saturday, what you said, I thought about it,” Irene finally says. “You were right.”

 

For a brief moment, she shuts her eyes, gathering her thoughts. They ran scattered in her head, wanting to all be said at once. Writing was so much easier. But Seulgi is patient and says nothing. She waits.

 

And Irene musters what little more courage she has. Like ripping off a band-aid. Just get it over with.

 

“All this time, after he broke up with me, I would always ask myself the same questions over and over again,” Irene continues, careful not to trip over her words. “Even when I tried not to think about it, I still did.”

 

It killed her. Nearly every day, every moment--if she was even the slightest bit unoccupied, those questions hounded her.

 

“I guess some small part of me was still hoping that we might get back together. That even the smallest chance existed. Because it hurt a lot more to just accept reality and move on.” Her voice started to fade. Reduced to little more than a whisper. Her eyes find Seulgi’s. “So you were right, I wasn’t ready. But I wanted to tell you that I am now so please… please continue to help me.”

 

Seulgi’s gaze narrows and with a tone of indifference, she asks, “How do I know you’re serious? Do I just take your word for it?”

 

She was challenging Irene and the latter answers back in haste.

 

“I threw out all of his things. Every present, every couple item, every memento. I deleted all of our pictures. Got off social media and even got rid of his number,” Irene takes a breath. “I’m ready Seulgi, I have to be ready. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

 

A confession that weighed on her shoulders. Who even knew words could be so heavy? But having finally spoken them, using her voice, admitting it out loud. The pressure lifts and she feels lighter.

 

Seulgi searches, tracing the contours of her face and the gleam in her eyes. She speaks, “I believe you and like I promised, I’m here for you.”

 

Simple assurance given in one breath. Irene smiles from ear to ear. Her hands relax in her lap and her shoulders drop.

 

“Thanks Seulgi. I was worried that you might have maybe given up on me when I didn’t see you this morning.”

 

The heartthrobs ears perk up.

 

“Aw, so you missed me then? That’s cute.”

 

“T-That’s not what--”

 

“Relax,” she pokes Irene’s forehead.

 

The latter pouts. Seulgi was becoming quite fond of doing that.

 

“You’re so distressed all the time,” Seulgi laughs and she looks up at the sky. Not a single cloud in sight. “Use me. Lean on me. Stick with me. Whatever. Even if you were still moping around over him for another month, I was still going to be here. I’m yours until I break.”

 

Irene stares, speechless. The beating in her chest picks up a little faster.

 

“Or rather,” Seulgi looks back at her, smirking, “I’m yours until the contract is over to be more accurate.”

 

It’s unusual. It had always been unusual how sincere Seulgi was at times like these in the most unexpected ways. So much so, that it made Irene question how many of those rumors held even a sliver of truth. Or did it just come that easy to Seulgi?

 

“So, what do you think about getting some ice cream?” Seulgi asks, rising to her feet and slinging her bag onto her shoulder.

 

 

Irene tilts her head, “That’s kind of random.”

 

“Ice cream always makes people feel better and it’s best to have at the most random of times. Plus, I’m exhausted and starving,” Seulgi clutches her stomach.

 

Irene could hardly argue, “Okay sure, I could go for some.”

 

They descended the stairs and headed towards the parking lot. Light orange hues started to paint the sky as the sun began to set. Irene observed the long strides Seulgi took as she walked. No limping or dragging of feet. Her stamina was remarkable.

 

“How long have you been doing track, Seulgi?”

 

“Just started last year.”

 

Only one year of experience. From what she saw earlier today, Irene at least thought she started late middle school.

 

“Wow, really? But you’re already so good?”

 

Seulgi spun on her heel, walking backwards in front of Irene. Each step she took forward, the heartthrob took one back.

 

“I’ve always been good at running,” Seulgi puffs her chest, full of pride. Suddenly, her face lights up with a mischievous grin. “Wanna race?”

 

“What? No--”

But before Irene could oppose, Seulgi takes off.

 

“Last one to my truck pays for ice cream!”

 

Irene scurries after her as fast as her legs would allow.

 

“Seulgi that’s not fair!”

 

And the heartthrob laughs, teasing the other girl as she jogs backwards.

 

--

 

a/n: yay! Another update! Man I wanted to finish this one a lot earlier but I just had so much going on in March with all these plans to go out with friends and also see Red Velvet at KCON Mexico! They’re so precious! ;A; If only Joy was there too OTL.

 

So what’d you all think of the update? I’m curious to know where you all think this story is headed. From this update onward, things will start to progress a little faster. Moving on is a hard thing and I’m not talking just about breakups but with any kind of hard hitting event in your life so now that Irene has come to terms with her situation, we’ll see what kinds of things happen next~ I’m having a fun time writing this fic so I hope you guys enjoy reading it, even just a little bit. Thanks to everyone who read, subscribed, and/or commented. And thanks to those who silently read as well, I hope you liked it! I’ll try to write my next update asap but with my game Persona 5 finally out here in the US, I will be heavily distracted lol Still, I’ll try my best to update by the end of April or at least the beginning of May!

 

Hope you all are as excited as I am for Red Velvet’s upcoming reality show! Also, remember to support Joy in her drama! Let’s all continue to love Red Velvet~~