It was real winter now, almost the end of the year. This Sunday morning, Taeyeon woke up to find her arms empty; Ginger must’ve trotted off somewhere to play with something. She rolled over, groaning quietly at the stiffness in her neck. 

They’d been back in the same bed for two weeks; Taeyeon was so, so glad for the extra warmth from the heater, and Ginger, and, well, Tiffany. However, though it was nowhere near as awkward as it was at first, Taeyeon still felt obligated, in a way, to leave as much space between herself and Tiffany as was possible. Now, she lay on her back and let her muscles relax in the morning light. 

Work had almost faded into the background for her and she found herself thinking about Tiffany, and the two of them, a lot over the past month. "Progress" was the word that came the most quickly to mind, but did it count as progress if neither of them seemed to be consciously aiming for anything? They talked a lot more, sure, spent a lot more time together — thanks, in most part, to the presence of Ginger. It almost felt like old times, like the early months of their relationship when they were just getting to know each other.

It felt a little weird to be so cautious and, admittedly, shy around someone she’d known for years. Taeyeon wasn’t sure what was going on. She didn’t know what happened to her decision to break up with Tiffany. Right now, they weren’t…they weren’t together, in the full sense of the word, but at the same time, Taeyeon found that she couldn’t quite remember why she was so keen on leaving. Had it been that bad? After the past few months, she wasn’t sure anymore. 

A quiet sigh beside her made Taeyeon turn her head. Tiffany was deeply asleep on her tummy, hair falling over her face, one hand stretched out above her head. Her expression was serene, and yet — the slackness of Tiffany's face only made it easier for Taeyeon to notice the faint lines between her eyebrows. 

Taeyeon didn’t know how long she stayed like that, just studying Tiffany’s face. How long had it been since she had last done this? A long time, thought Taeyeon, her gaze tracing the lines of Tiffany’s nose, her eyes, her lips. It was like…the first page of an old book. One that’s been read a while ago but made new again by time. 

...Or something melodramatic like that, anyway. 

Tiffany was beautiful, realized Taeyeon suddenly. When…when had she stopped seeing that? How had she stopped seeing that? How could she have become unable to see it? 

Her hand was halfway to Tiffany’s face before she even realized it. Taeyeon pulled it back hurriedly — what the hell? — but the movement jerked the blanket back and Tiffany’s eyes flew open.

“Wha—?”

“Sorry,” whispered Taeyeon apologetically. “Didn’t mean to wake you."

Taking a deep breath, Tiffany stretched and buried her face into the pillow. “What time is it?” Her voice was muffled.

“Um,” a glance at the clock on the wall, “10:23."

Taeyeon watched as Tiffany lifted her head. “Did you feed Ginger?"

“Not yet."

A drawn-out groan. “I guess it’s time to wake up, then."

“I can feed him. Go back to sleep."

Again, Taeyeon found herself wanting to reach out as Tiffany flopped back onto the bed, turning her head to squint at Taeyeon. “But it’s Sunday,” mumbled Tiffany.

Maybe they should communicate only when half-conscious, thought Taeyeon. Maybe they were too sober all the time. “Well, I don’t think Ginger would mind terribly if we go out a little later today,” she said instead. “I’ll wake you in an hour?"

“Thirty minutes should be enough.” Tiffany’s voice, still a little scratchy from sleep, sent a chill down Taeyeon’s back. “Thank you."