Tiffany apologizes to their manager for making him wait, for holding back their schedules. She means it too, although she can’t bring herself to regret the minutes she wrung out with Jessica. She’s never been anything but professional, so adept at wearing an idol skin that it’s become like a chainmail, but if there’s ever been a chink in her armour it’s Jessica.

“Sorry, Juhyun,” she says with contrition as they settle into the back of the van. “You must have been waiting for a while.”

“It’s okay, unnie.” Juhyun helps her with her seatbelt when Tiffany’s fumbling fingers keep missing the buckle. “You looked like you needed that talk.”

“Yeah.” Tiffany gives a dry chuckle. “I guess I did.”

“Did it go the way you wanted it to?” Juhyun asks, caring yet somehow tactful in that way of hers.

“I don’t know how I wanted it to go.” Tiffany stares outside the van, watching the scenery pass by them before she has a chance to take it in. “I just… I.”

She doesn’t know what she expected from that talk, even though she’s thought so often about seeing Jessica again. She doesn’t know how many nights she’s spent thinking about That Day, when she told Jessica “I want to, but.” How many nights she’s spent wondering what would have happened if she had said “yes” instead, if she had taken that one day with Jessica. How many dreams she’s had with that one day spent a thousand different ways, but all ending the same way: with her waking up to a blurry world, alone.

“I don’t know if it’s better to have the ghost of something or nothing at all.”

“Sorry?” Juhyun asks, and Tiffany realizes she had spoken aloud.

She pastes on a smile like another layer of the armour. “It’s nothing. I’m just thinking out loud. Don’t mind me, Juhyunnie. Get some shut eye.”

Juhyun looks at her for another moment. “Okay, unnie,” she finally says. “If you’re sure. But if you ever want to talk…”

“I know.” Tiffany smiles, and this one is genuine. “I know I can always talk to you.”

Juhyun returns the expression and squeezes her hand. Tiffany spends the rest of the ride drifting into a fitful sleep riddled with dreams she can’t remember.

 

As Tiffany expected (and dreaded), Taeyeon starts her questions when they’re alone together at the dorm.

“So who is Jessica Jung? She’s obviously not just a designer. At least not to you.”

Who is Jessica Jung? Tiffany wants to know the answer to that question herself.

“Tiffany?”

“She was my best friend growing up,” she says softly. “We lived down the street from each other. We slept over at each other’s houses all the time. We-we even bought couple rings together.”

She can see the understanding fill Taeyeon’s eyes, followed by the pity. “And you had to leave her behind to come here.”

“I had to leave everyone behind.”

“I’m sorry, Fany.”

“No, don’t be. I-I chased after my dream. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” Tiffany feels pressure in , at the backs of her eyes, and she tries to fight them back. Tries to fight yet again. “And I’m here now. I’ve achieved it.”

There’s no real strength, no real conviction in her voice. She sounds weak and wavering, like the unsure girl she always fought not to be.

“But you’re not happy, are you?” Taeyeon asks quietly. “Not really.”

“I—” Tiffany starts and stops. “Is it obvious? Can they tell?”

“No,” Taeyeon says. “I can’t even tell most of the time. You’re—you smile so much. It’s. It works.”

The corners of Tiffany’s mouth curve up. “It’s supposed to.”

Taeyeon frowns. “You don’t have to do that around us, you know.”

Tiffany closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to meet the disappointment in Taeyeon’s. “I’m not unhappy. It’s just that… The path not taken always haunts you, you know?”

Taeyeon is silent for a long moment. “Fany, you know you’re like a sister to me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Is it the same for you and Jessica ssi?”

“She said you don’t have to add the ssi.”

“It’s weird to call her by just her name,” Taeyeon says with a shrug. “Also, don’t avoid the question.”

“You’re like a sister to me too, but Jessica is…” Tiffany lets out a breath. “She’s my biggest what if.”

“Well,” Taeyeon says, after a beat. “She doesn’t have to stay as that anymore.”

 

Tiffany is stepping out of the elevator at the SM building, occupied with her thoughts rather than her surroundings, when she full-on collides with someone.

“Sorry!” she says when she gathers her breath. Mercifully, she had already finished and thrown away her coffee.

“It’s okay,” says a quiet, devastatingly familiar voice. Tiffany looks up and meets Jessica’s eyes, feeling a swoop in her stomach that could either be anticipation or trepidation, maybe both.

“Jessica,” she says dumbly.

“Tiffany ssi,” Jessica returns politely.

“What are you doing here?” Tiffany blurts out.

“I had something to discuss with one of the designers,” Jessica says, still so polite that it cuts into Tiffany more than rudeness would.

“Have you eaten yet?”

Jessica falters. “No…?” she says like a question.

“I haven’t either.” Tiffany pauses. A part of her contemplates biting her lip and looking through her lashes in the practiced motion that has won so many people over before. She dismisses the idea almost immediately. “Do you want to grab a bite with me?”

She doesn’t know what to do if Jessica declines. Then again, she doesn’t know what to do if Jessica accepts either.

“Okay,” Jessica says warily. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Spaghetti,” Tiffany says promptly.

Jessica laughs. “Of course.”

Tiffany smiles. “Am I that predictable?”

“I was banking on either spaghetti or pizza.”

“You know me well, Jessi,” Tiffany says with a grin.

Jessica shrugs. “I think that any Sone could have guessed those two foods.”

Tiffany has nothing to say to that. They walk together in silence past the elevators and down the hallway. Tiffany feels like she’s following Jessica even though they’re in her building, her terrain. Nothing feels like safe territory with Jessica right now, even though she always felt nothing but safe when she was with Jessica.

“I could go for some nachos too,” Jessica suddenly says.

Tiffany swallows, a knot in . They always ate nachos back in California and constantly argued over what kind of salsa to get: Jessica wanted mild, while Tiffany wanted hot. Of course, they could have simply asked for separate salsas but that just didn’t occur to them. Tiffany didn’t like sharing, but it was different when it came to Jessica. A lot of things were different when it came to Jessica.

Jessica tilts her head to the side. “You don’t feel like nachos?”

Tiffany finds her voice. “Only if we get the hot salsa.”

“No chance.” Jessica wrinkles her nose. “My tolerance to heat has gone down even further with age.”

“Jessi,” Tiffany laughs. “You sound like you’re like, fifty.”

“On some days I feel like it,” Jessica says. “My joints pop all the time.”

“Well, we’re the same age and I’m not ready to be old yet,” Tiffany says, even though she feels downright ancient on some days, the days when everything hurts and she can’t remember why this life is worth it anymore, or if it even is. “I want to grow old with you but not when we’re in our twenties.”

Jessica stops walking so suddenly that Tiffany crashes into her again. She grabs Tiffany’s arms to steady her, grip so tight that Tiffany will find the imprints of Jessica’s fingers on her skin the next day.

“You want to grow old with me?” she asks, so quietly that Tiffany barely hears her.

“Um.” Tiffany feels betrayed by the abrupt departure of her filter. She contemplates trying to recover it, but decides maybe it’s better that it’s gone. “I’ve always wanted to.”

“Tiffany…” Jessica seems to have an idol skin of her own, so impenetrable that Tiffany worried she couldn’t see her Jessica underneath. But here she is, with the familiar, haunting way she’s looking at Tiffany. Staring at Tiffany.

“I’ve never stopped wanting to,” Tiffany whispers, or maybe she says, “I’ve never stopped wanting you.” Both would be true.

“Me neither,” Jessica says, and then looks aghast at herself for admitting that.

They’ve stopped near an empty practice room, and Tiffany pulls Jessica by the wrist into it, closing the door behind them. She has no idea whether someone is coming in to use it, but she’ll have to take her chances. She finally has to take this one while she still has it.

“Tiffany,” Jessica says, strained. “We can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

There’s a knock on the door before Jessica can reply. Tiffany opens it, making sure her frustration doesn’t show in her face.

It’s a girl from SM’s new rookie girl group, who looks startled when she sees Tiffany and then bows so low that the pink tips of her hair almost touch the ground. “Tiffany sunbaenim. I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you were using the room. It’s just that – we have our dance practice and…” She trails off, clearly unsure how to ask her sunbae to vacate the room.

“No, I’m sorry for taking your practice room,” Tiffany says. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“Thank you.” She bows again, and her group members who are standing behind her mirror the gesture.

“It’s no problem, it was my fault in the first place.” Tiffany smiles. “You guys have your comeback coming up soon, right? Good luck for it!”

“Thank you,” they all say like a chorus. The girl who had spoken to Tiffany – the leader if she’s not mistaken – gives Jessica a hesitant look.

“This is Jessica,” Tiffany says lamely. “My…friend.”

They exchange polite greetings, and Tiffany gives her hoobaes some more encouraging words before she and Jessica leave the room.

“You’re a nice sunbae,” Jessica says.

“Am I?” Tiffany says with a laugh. “I feel like a terrible one. I can barely remember their names.”

“Well, you must see trainees every other day. It’s a huge company.”

“It is,” Tiffany says quietly. Sometimes SM feels more like a factory than an entertainment company, sending out pretty dolls one after the other. Star Museum Entertainment – Tiffany wonders how long their run will last before they end up as an artifact in the museum.

“Did you know that I got street casted by SM?”

“What?” Tiffany grins. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jessica says. “I was shopping and one of their employees just approached me and gave me a business card, telling me to audition.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re so pretty.”

Jessica doesn’t blush, exactly, but her eyes flit away like she doesn’t know how to handle the compliment. “Thanks,” she says quietly.

“Did you ever consider it?” Tiffany asks, fully expecting her to say no.

“Actually, I did,” Jessica says. “I mean SM is one of the Big Three, right? It wasn’t an opportunity you get every day.”

“That’s true,” Tiffany says softly. When it had been offered to her, it wasn’t an opportunity she could turn down.

“And SM is your company,” Jessica adds offhandedly. “They clearly know how to create successful groups, don’t they?”

Tiffany manages a smile. “Thanks for calling us successful.”

“Look at your awards, your records. I don’t think you need me to tell you that you’re successful.”

“I don’t need you to, but I’m happy to hear it from you. It means a lot to—it means a lot.”

Jessica gives her a long look. “Don’t forget,” she says lightly. “I am a Sone. I’m here to support you.”

“And I appreciate it,” Tiffany says sincerely, before breaking into a playful smile. “If you ever want tickets to our concerts or fanmeets…”

“Wow, a personal invite from you? I’m going to brag about this on the fan cafe.”

Tiffany chuckles. “I want to see that post.”

“I’ll link you,” Jessica tells her. “I’m going to be the coolest kid on the block.”

Tiffany laughs so hard she’s left clutching her ribs. “What are you, twelve?”

“Am I fifty or twelve? Make up your mind.”

“You make up your mind!”

They continue their bickering as they walk through the building. It reminds Tiffany of old times, of splitting jumbo freezies from the convenience store after school and having impromptu karaoke battles with water bottles as microphones.

Nostalgia has always lingered on the bitter side of bittersweet for her, but this time it tastes closer to sweet.

 

They find a place that claims to serve Western food in a handwritten sign pasted on the window. Tiffany looks at Jessica, who shrugs with a why not expression on her face, and they step into the restaurant together.

The waitress – Dabin, according to her nametag – starts blabbering to them about chef specials and the soup of the day before she says, “I’m sorry, I’m a huge fan – do you think you can sign my…”

“Oh, sure,” Tiffany says, accepting the pen handed to her from shaking fingers. “Should I make it out to Dabin?”

“How did you know that—” But then Dabin colours and glances at her nametag with realization. “Yes, please. That would be great.”

Tiffany writes a standard message and signs her name with a flourish, looping into a heart from the y. “Here you go,” she says with a smile, and Dabin looks like she might faint. Tiffany is used to it, but she glances at Jessica, who looks rather amused. “Do you think we can have a few minutes to decide what to order?”

“Yes, of course! Please let me know if you want any suggestions.”

“I think we’ve heard enough about the soup of the day,” Jessica says dryly, and Dabin flushes. “Thank you.”

It’s a pointed dismissal, and Dabin takes the hint and leaves.

Jessica flips over the menu, which is quite simple. “I bet she’ll leave you her number on the receipt.”

Tiffany gives a small laugh. “You think she was flirting with me?”

“She probably would have if I weren’t here.”

“Good thing you are then,” Tiffany says, meaning it in more ways than one.

Jessica tilts her head to the side. “You don’t like to be flirted with?”

“Depends on who’s doing it,” Tiffany says. “If it’s you, I don’t think I would mind.”

Jessica coughs, reaching for a napkin. Another waiter comes to pour them some water, and Tiffany smiles and thanks him.

“Do you still want to get nachos?” Jessica asks, eyes back on the menu like it’s absolutely fascinating.

“Yep. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“The vegetarian one or—?”

“Meat,” Tiffany says before Jessica even finishes the question. “I like meat.”

“So do I,” Jessica says with a quirk of . “And – pasta? Are you getting Bolognese or Alfredo?”

“Do they have Rosé sauce?”

Jessica snorts. “Of course you would get the pink sauce.” She taps the menu in front of Tiffany. “You have one too, you know. You can read it yourself.”

“Or you can read it to me,” Tiffany says with a grin. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“If I say I do, are you going to look at your own menu?”

“Nope.”

Jessica rolls her eyes, but she answers Tiffany’s question. “They don’t have Rosé sauce. We’re not in America, you know. Be glad to see both Bolognese and Alfredo on the menu.”

“Maybe I can get the Bolognese and you can get the Alfredo and then we can mix them together to make our own rosé sauce.”

Jessica gives her a Look. “Why do you always have so many questionable ideas?”

“How is that questionable?” Tiffany asks indignantly. “Rosé sauce is basically a tomato and cream sauce mixed together. Bolognese is a tomato sauce and Alfredo sauce is a cream sauce. It’s a union waiting to happen.”

“Okay, Tiff,” Jessica says. “Sounds like a pairing made in heaven.”

“You know it,” Tiffany says, although it takes her a second after Jessica’s first two words. “You have to eat it with me, okay? I can’t eat two plates of pasta by myself.”

Jessica raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I have to, do I?”

“Yes,” Tiffany says, jutting out her bottom lip.

“Put that face away.” Jessica wrinkles her nose. “It didn’t work when we were teenagers and it’s not going to work now.”

“I think it’s working. I can feel your resolve wavering.”

“If it is, it’s because I’m hungry and hunger weakens me.”

“Okay, we should order then!” Tiffany raises her hand until a waiter comes over. “Hi, we’ll have the nachos platter, a spaghetti Bolognese and a fettucine Alfredo.”

“Will that be all?” he asks, writing down their orders.

“We’ll keep a menu for dessert,” Tiffany says, handing Jessica’s over. “Thank you.”

“Okay, coming up.” After he walks away, Jessica gives Tiffany a glare.

“I don’t recall agreeing to your pasta…concoction.”

Tiffany smiles. “You said it was a pairing made in heaven, right?”

“I—that wasn’t a yes to your questionable idea.”

“Come on, Jessi,” Tiffany says breezily. “You love my questionable ideas.”

Jessica gives her a long, considering look. “I guess I do,” she says, and Tiffany’s cheeks feel warm as she reaches for her water.

 

Tiffany almost drips beef on her lap when she takes a huge bite of the nachos. They don’t taste great, to be honest, but she hasn’t had nachos in so long that she doesn’t even mind. This meal is going to be so costly on her diet, but she can’t bring herself to care. Some more hours in the gym is well worth nachos and spaghetti and Jessica.

Jessica sighs. “Why do you still eat like a five-year-old?”

“Twelve-year-old,” Tiffany corrects, and Jessica looks confused. “I mean, if we’re going to be fifty together we’re going to be twelve together too, right?”

The confusion in Jessica’s expression clears, replaced by something Tiffany can’t read. “We were twelve together. That was a long time ago.”

“I still remember it,” Tiffany says. “You couldn’t blow out your birthday candles so I helped you.”

“And then you smeared frosting on my cheek,” Jessica recalls with a small smile.

“You did it back!”

“My mom said that we got more frosting on our faces than in our mouths.”

“You don’t even like frosting so it’s not like it was a waste.”

“You like frosting enough for the both of us.”

“I don’t like it as much these days,” Tiffany says. “I think it’s because I’ve gotten older.”

“Now you sound like you’re the fifty-year-old.”

Tiffany smiles. “We can be ahjummas together.”

Jessica takes a bite of nachos, tongue darting out to a bit of cheese off the corner of . Tiffany tells herself not to stare but fails miserably.

“This cheese tastes like it’s a plastic by-product,” Jessica says idly, taking another chip smothered in it.

“Pretty good for a plastic by-product,” Tiffany says. “Once I microwaved a plate with plastic wrap on it and it partially melted.”

Jessica’s face scrunches up. “That’s disgusting.” She pauses. “Don’t tell me you ate it anyway.”

“I was starving and desperate, okay?” She had avoided the top layer of her food just in case it was contaminated, but she’s pretty sure she’s eaten worse things anyway.

“I’ve been starving and desperate too, but you don’t see me eating melted plastic wrap.”

“Says the person who once ate half a cupcake liner.”

“That was an accident!”

“So you claim,” Tiffany says with a grin that is definitely not returned.

Jessica scowls. “Why do you remember so many embarrassing stories from our childhood?”

“Because you were such an important part of my life, obviously.” It’s supposed to be chirpy, flippant, but there’s too much grave truth in it and it hangs in the air like a heavy weight.

“Were,” Jessica says quietly.

“You still can be, if you want.” Tiffany reaches across the table, which suddenly feels like it’s a hundred feet long, and finds Jessica’s hand. Jessica doesn’t move into or away from her touch, her hand limp and still in Tiffany’s. “I want you to be.”

“Tiffany—”

“I have a fettucine Alfredo and a spaghetti Bolognese.” This restaurant has the worst timing when it comes to bringing dishes.

“I have the Alfredo,” Jessica says, and the waiter sets that on Jessica’s side and the Bolognese on Tiffany’s. She murmurs a “thanks” and watches him leave from her peripheral vision.

Jessica clears , extricating her hand from Tiffany’s grip and reaching for her chopsticks like she needs both hands to use them. “You know, I actually really like Alfredo sauce. I’ll just eat this and—you still like Bolognese on its own, right?”

“Yeah.” Tiffany doesn’t even glance at her dish, even though it actually smells pretty good. “I still like it on its own.”

“Great. Bon appetit.” Jessica starts mixing her pasta so it’s more evenly coated in the sauce, a habit she’s always had. “I know that’s not Italian but I don’t know how to say that in Italian.”

“Itadakimasu.”

Jessica gives her another Look. “You know that’s Japanese, right?”

“Yeah, I do. I just felt like saying it.” Tiffany tries some of her spaghetti. It doesn’t taste as good as it smells, but it’s quite decent and above her expectations for such a place. At least her spaghetti craving will be satisfied after this, although she has a feeling she’ll still be left wanting.

“You and your questionable ideas,” Jessica says with a shake of her head.

“Yeah,” Tiffany murmurs. “Me and my questionable ideas.”