Hey, guess what?

I like you.

I like you when you dance. I like it when you do it in front of everyone, in the practice room or on stage, with smooth moves and oozing ridiculous confidence, and you wink at the camera and salute the fans with a flick of your finger and they all start screaming your name. And although I’ll never say, but I like it more when we’re alone, just the two of us at two-thirty in the morning when everyone else is sleeping and your long hair is damp with sweat as you practice in the studio but every snap of your wrist is still as sharp as the one before, and when you’re done and tired you sit down next to me and ask me what I thought of your dance and I’ll say that you were perfect.

I like you when you rap. I like it when the words flow from between your lips in that husky voice of yours and you know when to speed up or slow down to match or make the pace. But they don’t know how many times I’ve seen you hunched over a table with a whole sheaf of loose paper and an accumulation of pens and there’s only a small desk lamp to keep you company. Your fingers would grip the pen in your hand so tightly the knuckles would turn white and your brows would tilt so low when you’re really focused and in your zone and each letter of the alphabet would be written in your messy, rushed way as ideas keep pouring out of your head, and the only thing I can really do for you then is make you a cup of hot cocoa and patiently wait.

I like you when you laugh. I like it when your cheekbones raise themselves so high they’re almost touching your eyes and the bridge of your nose scrunches itself up in folds and your ivory-white teeth are on full display for everyone to see, and snorts and giggles leave your mouth in short spurts as you give up trying to breathe normally. I know that some people may not like the way you look when you laugh but I think it’s just adorable and so genuine when you cling onto me and catch your breath but you’ll never let me forget the day I advertised Pepero instead of Pocky and every time you retell that story you start giggling again.

I like you when you take pictures. I like it when we all know, me and Wheein and Hyejin, that you’re definitely the most proficient at technology and take great pictures for us but when it comes to taking selcas you just throw in the weirdest filters and no one really understands why. I’ve lost count how many posts on Twitter are of your selcas and the captions “But why this filter??” and yet when Wheein’s phone starts to malfunction you immediately offer to take care of it for her and within ten minutes it’ll be as good as new.

I like you when you sing. I like it when you stood up there onstage during our concert without any of us around you and you sang your rendition of ‘Don’t Forget’ and your voice was soft and fit the song perfectly, and all our fans cheered you on as you strutted out there as a soloist. I’ll never forget when you first offered to sing in front of everyone, and you might stutter as you muster your courage because you don’t feel too confident with your vocals but I don’t think honey will ever be as smooth and sweet as your voice, and I couldn’t be more proud when you came back after your solo stage with cheeks all flushed and still running from leftover adrenaline and you caught my eye and grinned so wide when I flashed two thumbs up at you.

I like you when you hold my hand. I like it when no matter what the day and where we are you try your best to reach for my hand and hold it in yours. Sometimes we get caught by our fans, like on that one radio show where you tried to sneakily link our fingers together but now there are an excessive number of gifs of that video and I find it quite embarrassing but you just laugh your socks off at it. Little do they know how fast my heart races when you interlock our fingers and how well they fit like the final two pieces of a puzzle and how hard you try to integrate it into our performances so you have more and more excuses for us to touch in public. Not that anyone’s complaining, of course, although you have to admit it’s quite funny when Wheein sometimes shoots us dirty looks for being so flirty.

I like you when —

“When what?”

Yongsun turns around and instantly realises that she has been speaking out loud as she writes, and hurriedly tries to stuff the piece of paper she is writing on into one of the drawers beside the desk, but the other woman moves too fast for her and grabs the letter out of her hand. She reads it slowly, savouring each word with hungry eyes, and Yongsun covers her face to hide the red blush that is slowly making its way from her ears towards her cheeks, but when she peers through her fingers she notices that her girlfriend is glaring at the words.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, worried that she may have written down something that hurt the girl.

The silver-haired woman shoves the letter at her and points accusingly at each paragraph. “Why did you say ‘like’? Why not ‘love’?” She pouts, very cutely, and Yongsun struggles to keep herself from laughing. Reaching up, she tugs at Byulyi’s collar and pulls her down until they are face-to-face.

Yongsun leans in, and stopping a few centimetres before their lips meet, says: “Because I love you all the time, no matter what you do. Happy birthday, you dork.” And her eyes flutter close as Byulyi kisses her with a grin.