It was raining when Byulyi arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport. She didn’t bring any umbrella – her red umbrella, a prize she got from a convenience store, was almost brand new since she was always too careless to carry it with her, even when the sky was murky grey.

Grey.

That was what she thought her world looked like, compared to Wheein’s. Many years ago, when things weren’t as complicated, when Byulyi could kiss Wheein whenever she wanted – she only needed to muster enough courage for that and hid her blush afterwards, she didn’t need to think of consequences – Byulyi and Wheein were hunting for street snacks. Across the intersection where they were was a pub, loud and colorful with tacky neon lights. Wheein chuckled.

“Too many colors,” she had explained. Byulyi agreed, but that was only because the neon was pink and electric blue and white and they hurt Byulyi’s eyes. But Wheein saw beyond that. All the noises and the shouts and the muffled loud bass from the music. Wheein saw the streams of colors. Byulyi wondered if it hurt her eyes, too.

“How many?” Byulyi asked, handing Wheein a paper cup of tteobokki they had ordered. Wheein looked away from the pub to look at Byulyi.

“Too many.”

And Byulyi thought, compared to the colors Wheein witnessed, Byulyi’s life was grey.

Wheein took the paper cup and quickly shoved a tteokbokki into , only to squeal at the scalding heat and laughed afterwards. Byulyi laughed, too and she thought that with Wheein in her side, she was the only color she ever needed.

That was years ago, though. When things weren’t complicated and days were filled with certainty. Certainty of Wheein’s presence and love. But now, as Byulyi fought the downpour in Paris to hail a cab towards an address Wheein had given her, nothing was certain anymore.

Not even Wheein’s love.

The trip across rainy Paris was gloomy. Right after the cab left the airport, the rain poured even harder, leaving the street views as nothing but blurred lines of raindrops hitting against the cab window. The driver tried to engage Byulyi in a conversation, in which Byulyi had to reply with an apologetic smile. Neither of them was fluent in English.

It took almost an hour to arrive at the address Wheein texted. Byulyi got off from the cab and gazed up at the apartment building in front of her. The rain had turned to soft drizzles, leaving small droplets of rain resting on top of Byulyi’s hair and coats, like dews. She frowned. The building was minimalistic, black and white and seeping out the aura of modernism. It was a place Byulyi would be quick to love.

But it certainly didn’t suit Wheein.

Byulyi sent a text to notify Wheein upon her arrival. As she waited for the latter, Byulyi could only think about how much Wheein had changed and how much she hadn’t.

“Sorry it’s a little cramped. I’m doing some cleaning,” Wheein said, ushering Byulyi in while she moved a card box that was blocking their ways. Byulyi looked around the moderately large place. Card boxes filled with stuffs were everywhere. Is Wheein planning to move?

Seeing Wheein again was weird. Just when Byulyi thought it was over for real, there they were, in close proximity to each other. Far, far away from Byulyi’s home. She couldn’t help but to wonder if it was a sign from God that she could continue her fight, or that this was the closure they both seek for.

Byulyi wanted to be mad at Wheein. At the absurdity of everything. At how she got the guts to ask – beg – for Byulyi to fly thousand miles away after she had practically dumped her only to, what? Watching her clean up? But of course, Byulyi didn’t. Instead, she got up from the couch and helped Wheein with a large box, in which Wheein muttered a thank you.

“Are you moving out?” Byulyi asked to break the silence. Instead of answering, Wheein gave a dubious shrug.

Byulyi blew up at that.

“Wow, okay. Let’s get some things straight. So you left me right after I got my hopes up, dumping me just like that, like it’s a very easy decision. The, you called begging for me to come all the way here, in which I did. I ing did and I can’t get one solid answer from a very simple question?! Jung Wheein, you’re unbelievable!”

Byulyi slightly panted after that, cheeks flushing red and eyes shooting daggers at Wheein. She had just poured all the bottled up frustrations, all the desperations and pity she had for herself that she could only confide in bottles of liquor and overtime hours of working.

Wheein’s gaze softened right after Byulyi exploded. There were very little times when Byulyi was angry at her. One of their biggest fights – other than the case with the bulles that caused them to sit apart from each other – was when Wheein got a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolate from a college student living across her place. Byulyi had blown up back then, demanding why Wheein hadn’t told her, but Wheein knew it wasn’t because it was entirely her fault. It was because Byulyi was jealous and she was frustrated because she didn’t know how to express it, and she had to be angry to channel her frustration.

This time, though, Wheein was fully aware that it was entirely her fault.

Wheein took a step closer to Byulyi. The latter didn’t flinch, but her gaze was trained on Wheein, filled with doubt that Wheein hated to see. Wheein took Byulyi’s hand in hers with extra gentleness, afraid that Byulyi might slip off of her hold if she wasn’t gentle enough. Byulyi’s curled fist slowly relaxed opened, and she didn’t pull away. She had calmed down, but her glare was still sharp on Wheein.

“I’ll take you to the exhibition.”

Byulyi had spent her entire high school years trying to figure Wheein out. When she thought she might be close, she wasn’t, at all. Especially now, when Wheein took her hand and got them out of her place, only to walk toward the flat next to hers.

Byulyi was too tired to snap out again. Whatever inside the flat must’ve been where Wheein had stored her paintings for her “grand exhibition” and maybe she just wanted Byulyi to get an advanced chance to see it before it was open for public.

Maybe Wheein was trying to make Byulyi understand how important the exhibition was for Wheein. Maybe she wanted to show Byulyi why she wanted her so badly to be there. Not Hyejin, not anyone else. But Byulyi.

Wheein inserted the key and turned the knob. As the door creaked opened and they stepped in, though, Byulyi could only let out a gasp, eyes wide in surprise.

There had only been five times that Byulyi attended an exhibition.

First. High-school’s art project. A permanent art museum in town. Byulyi only took several pictures for proof, spent around 10 seconds in front of a painting that caught her eyes, and then she went home. This was before Wheein happened.

Second. A sunny spring day. Contemporary art exhibition with Yongsun. Byulyi stared at a square canvas, divided into 4 grids, each grid had different colors: orange, green, blue, and yellow. She wondered how such simple artwork could sell for more than $5000.

Third. Another spring. Of course, with Yongsun. She forgot the theme of the exhibition, something related to the future. Byulyi remembered a sculpture of a constellation and remembered posting the picture of it in her social media.

Fourth. Two months ago. With Yongsun, and uncannily stumbled upon her early