A/N: *cries* Is this an essay or a fanfic???

Taeyeon was stumped. Beyond stumped. Dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Gobsmacked.
 

Because Tiffany was…Tiffany. And yet she was not. Not the Tiffany Hwang Taeyeon had been sure she knew. Taeyeon had always dismissed her as the typical Class A type in her list of People I Do Not Like: stubborn, domineering, self-centered, among other things.
 

And yes, Tiffany could be like that sometimes, but there was so much more to her than that, and Taeyeon knew she would have figured this out sooner if she had gotten her head out of her years ago. Maybe then, they could’ve been good friends during college. Countless lunches could have been spent joking around as they waited for their friends to arrive at the restaurant rather than wasting precious minutes ignoring each other.
 

For the past few weeks, Taeyeon and Tiffany had spent most of their free time together as they had years’ worth of catching up to do. They went out to have lunches and dinners together (Tiffany understood that a sleepy Taeyeon would not be very good company for breakfast), even when their group didn’t have any of those scheduled. Sometimes, they even extended their time with each other by watching movies in the theater or at one another’s home.
 

And yes, they finally, finally began to contact each other through their phones. During random times throughout the day, Tiffany would send Taeyeon cute and funny puppy videos, while Taeyeon would send back hilarious people-falling-down-anywhere videos.
 

Taeyeon learned so many more things about Tiffany these last few weeks than she had for the last seven years.
 

For one, Tiffany really was a pink monster. A pink beast. A pink behemoth. Although Tiffany’s living room did show more than a few traces of pink, that was nothing compared to her bedroom. Taeyeon could count with one hand the amount of items that weren’t pink in that room. She was just glad that Tiffany’s closet didn’t seem to be as pink-infused; Taeyeon liked Tiffany in blue…and white…and gray, even. And okay, pink really did look good on Tiffany, too.
 

Tiffany was also very stubborn, almost like a mini-dictator, but Taeyeon knew this already. Tiffany really liked it when things went the way she wanted them to. She would usually choose the movie they’d be watching, even though Taeyeon would protest numerous times (although in the end, Taeyeon did enjoy the movie more than she was willing to admit). Tiffany also usually chose the restaurant they were going to eat in, but Taeyeon could give her that, since Tiffany was more knowledgeable about good food around Seoul.
 

But as stubborn and demanding as Tiffany was, there were times wherein she relinquished her control and handed the reigns to Taeyeon, and that made the latter feel some weird enigmatic things she couldn’t really name, because that meant that Tiffany cared enough about her opinions. If she told Tiffany that she didn’t feel like eating pizza that day, the brunette would suggest a sushi place. If Taeyeon was stressed about work, Tiffany would drag her to a slapstick film that would make her double-over in laughter, even though Taeyeon was sure that Tiffany would have loved to watch that new as-tragic-as-the-freaking-Titanic romance film.
 

Taeyeon had previously thought that Tiffany was a run-of-the-mill party animal. She assumed this to be so because most of the events Taeyeon had attended with her friends were either hosted by Tiffany (Tiffany was an event planner before she dabbled on fashion design), or Tiffany was one of the esteemed guests. These events were classy, with overflowing overpriced champagne carried by waiters who were never a few meters away from proximity, but Tiffany also invited them to bars and clubs all over town. Taeyeon rarely went to any of these affairs, but when she did, she would watch as Tiffany flitted through the crowd, as if her sky-high heels were mere flip-flops. Tiffany was a social butterfly, yes, but Taeyeon now realized that the dark-haired woman also loved to chill at home, with a huge glass of iced coffee and a plethora of junk food.
 

Tiffany also cared. Taeyeon already knew this, but it was a novel thing to experience it first-hand. Recently, Tiffany was invited to a gala of some sort (Taeyeon always seemed to glaze out on the details; she just knew that it was fashion magazine-related), and Tiffany invited her along because even though the brunette knew that Taeyeon didn’t really like going to these events, she was one of the photographers for the November issue of the magazine, and she thought that it’d be good publicity for Taeyeon.
 

So Taeyeon agreed, and at first it was exciting because they actually met up beforehand and arrived at the venue together, but then Tiffany had to go do her thing and mingle with practically everyone in the room, leaving Taeyeon to fend for herself. Although various people were fascinated by Taeyeon’s repertoire (but some flocked to her just because they thought she was very, very hot), Taeyeon’s shy and reserved nature won out, and she was left alone for most of the night.
 

Taeyeon was just about to whip out her cellphone, wondering if it’d be impolite to play Candy Crush in such a fancy event, when Tiffany suddenly stood by her side.
 

“Hey,” Tiffany greeted her with a smile.
 

“Hey.”
 

“You okay?”
 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”
 

“I don’t know…you just seem…” Tiffany vaguely gestured with her hands.
 

Taeyeon narrowed her eyes at the brunette. “I’m not a recluse, you know. I don’t need to be rescued,” she said with a little bout of irritation. Although she was kind of a recluse, and she did need to be rescued. It just…wounded her pride a bit because Tiffany knew.
 

Tiffany looked contrite. “I know…I just thought…forget it. I’m sorry, Taeyeon.” She bit her lip and was about to excuse herself, but Taeyeon stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist.
 

“I…I’m sorry. Fany…can you…stay with me? Or at least let me come with you while you mingle.”
 

Her grip on Tiffany’s wrist unconsciously grew tighter as the latter smiled softly at her, eyes filled with understanding and the only thing that occupied Taeyeon’s mind right then was ‘Tiffany cares about me. Me.’
 

Tiffany lifted her hand just slightly, loosening Taeyeon’s hold on her wrist so that she could intertwine their fingers together, and then she pulled Taeyeon along to a throng of people the blonde vaguely remembered to be part of the crew during the photoshoot she’d done for the magazine.
 

If Tiffany was always within proximity to Taeyeon in these events, the latter wouldn’t mind going to all of them.
 

And the last thing that Taeyeon had realized about Tiffany (for now, since she was sure that she’d learn more eventually), the last-but-definitely-not-the-least thing, the last-but-definitely-the-scariest thing, was that Tiffany was so much more beautiful than Taeyeon had first thought she was.
 

Taeyeon had been given a preview of it when she had visited Tiffany while the brunette was sick. Because obviously Tiffany was gorgeous whenever she was outside: makeup on, lipstick on, high heels on, but there was something to be said about Tiffany looking just as beautiful, if not more, when her face was devoid of any makeup, and when she was simply wearing a casual outfit. There was something about Tiffany wearing jeans or shorts that made Taeyeon go ‘Okay, I really am gay. I didn’t need to affirm it further, but okay.’
 

Taeyeon knew it was bad to ogle a friend. It was strange to have the urge to count the lashes framing Tiffany’s face whenever the latter fell asleep on the couch beside her. It was weird to want to sniff Tiffany’s hair and check if it was the source of that spicy sweet smell in Tiffany’s apartment (it wasn’t; Taeyeon couldn’t stop herself from checking.). But she couldn’t control it. Not when they grew closer day-by-day, not when they always ended up cuddling next to each other on the couch, not when Tiffany kept proving Taeyeon wrong on her shallow assumptions of the other girl.
 

Taeyeon learned a lot of things about Tiffany, but she learned a lot of things about herself, too. Things she was still too afraid to admit out loud.

A/N:

I hate this HAHAHA OH MY *burns draft* I'm sorryyyy.

Look forward to another yucky essay, guys (Fany's side this time). D: I love you all. HAHAHA.