“Wen unnie!

Wendaddy! C’mon! We have to be there. Seulgi expecting us.”

Yeri yelled onto Wendy’s apartment because the latter is being lazy. Today is Seulgi’s art gallery exhibition and Joy - Seulgi’s girlfriend- won’t stop nagging them about coming.

“Would you stop yelling you hobbit!”

Wendy shouted back while getting up from the bed and started to get ready.

“Wow! Says the one who isn’t part of hobbit community.”

On the elevator on their way to the parking lot, Wendy seems anxious and Yeri couldn’t help to noticed.

“Unnie…”

.

.

.

“Unnie!”

“Huh? You said something?”

“You’re daydreaming are you? You sure you okay?”

“You think Irene’s going to be there?” Wendy asked innocently to her little sister.

“Oh... Irene unnie… I think so. I’m sorry unnie… I forgot.” Yeri said while she hold Wendy’s hand

“You sure you still want to come with me?”

“Yeah, and you me need as your driver hobbit.” Yeri chuckled on her sister’s statement.

Joy can't stop talking and Irene wonders if she's always been like this or if she's only noticing it now.

The moment Joy walks into her apartment or rather, invites himself in, she hasn't stopped rattling on and on about how excited she is that they're finally going to see her girlfriend’s art on display. Irene doesn't mind listening, however, Joy changes the topic and started talking about the upcoming concert that's happening during New Year's Eve - they've all bought the tickets few months prior - she wishes she would shut up.

"You're still going, right?" Joy asks as she maneuvers her car out of the parking spot.

Irene shrugs, "Idunno." Truly, she doesn't know because her ticket isn't with her. It's with Wendy as she's thought that she's better at keeping things; granted, Irene didn't disagree because she always forgets where she keeps her things.

Brows furrowing, Joy glances at her briefly before she diverts her gaze back to the road, "What do you mean you don't know?"

"Ticket's not with me," she answers nonchalantly - at least that's how she wishes she sounded like.

For a couple of seconds, Joy looks confused, but soon enough realization dawns on her. "Right," she breathes, her lips, "Have you talked to her since, uh, since-"

"Since we broke up?" Irene finishes the sentence for her and she nods, looking a little unsure like she doesn't know if she's allowed to ask that question. She assures her with a smile before she answers,

 "No."

At that, Joy's eyes widen and Irene knows straight away that is not a good sign. 

"Why?" Irene questions. Something stirs in her stomach and she doesn't like it, doesn't like the look on Joy's face. "What's with that look?"

"Wendy might be there, she’s coming with Yeri" Joy replies hesitantly and as soon as those words leave her lips, she turns to look at Irene to see her reaction. She knows the way her face pales and the way she shifts in her seat don't go unnoticed by her. Therefore, quickly, she adds, "I'll make sure you won't bump into her, if that's what you want."

Irene opens to reply, but Joy cuts her off.

"Irene, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you and Wendy haven't talked since you know what," she says, ending the sentence with a shrug. "If you want me to turn around and-"

"Joy," Irene stops her as she places a hand on her shoulder. "Its fine," she assures her, then, to which she shoots her a wary look. "It's okay, I want to be there."

Every atom in her body disagrees, however, but she figures that one day she'll have to face Wendy again, one day she'll have to stop running.

So maybe tonight is the best time for that.

The second they arrive at the exhibition room, Joy makes a beeline towards her girlfriend's section, not even bothering to glance at anyone else's work. Irene should've known that she'll be left alone, she should've prepared herself for that. Alas, when she glances to her left and notices that Joy's no longer with her, she lets out a heavy, weighted sigh.

Thinking that Joy most probably has forgotten the fact that she comes here with her, Irene decides to wander around the room. As she looks at everyone's work, squinting her eyes ever so slightly, she racks her brain for an explanation as to why some works are drawn certain ways. When she reaches the corner of the room, she has come to a conclusion that she'll never understand art, which is sad because she thinks it'll be really cool to be able to get the message just by staring at it.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?"

Irene could've sworn that her heart has jumps out of her chest and lands on her feet - or rather, her feet - when she hears her voice. Immediately, she feels her warmth radiating off of her like she's a splotch of orange in a larger ar