Another damp, yet windy afternoon passed by. As excruciating as it is, a certain brown haired girl is grateful for the weather. Another damp afternoon means that Jihyo will spend another quiet day alone at the apartment, without any high-pitched screams and ruckus. She's sure that Sana is stuck at work until sun sets, tending over more and more customers at the bookstore with no chance of a short break.

Her girlfriend - Jihyo's not sure if she still can call Sana that, considering all the silent treatment and fights they have been having the past few weeks - is being someone she doesn't know, someone that starts to feel like a stranger. The way she sees it, Sana is still Sana, the chirpy girl that always takes care of Jihyo no matter the circumstances, the one who would even jump from a building just to ensure that the other girl is safe. 

But Jihyo knew, the difference in the way they see the world, the way they think and solve problems, it differs from each other. It started as a normal problem, one that would go away as time flows, but how wrong the brown haired girl was back then. Small misunderstandings turned into quarrels, quarrels turned into fights - the one with Sana kicking over their dining chair and Jihyo almost shattering the window with her phone, fights turned into silence, ignoring each other without even saying goodbye before leaving to work. It's all messed up.

Jihyo rolled over to the other side of the couch, fidgeting with the small remote in her hand with no intention of turning on the TV. A sigh escaped her lips before she got up and started dragging her feet to the kitchen, planning to get some water to soothe the aching pain in her head. 

Big mistake, I guess, Jihyo thought while looking over the collage of photos hanging on the wall beside the kitchen entrance. Her and Sana smiling without a care in the world at the camping site back in high school, both of them hugging to each other like their lives depend on it. The photo next to it, Sana's graduation four years ago, with the mentioned girl holding a bouquet of flowers, the one Jihyo captured with her parent's camera. The rest of the pictures is too much for Jihyo's heart to handle, especially the uppermost one with them showing their matching rings - the ring that no longer exists in both hers and Sana's hands. 

Jihyo reminisced while taking a blue-ish small water bottle from the fridge. She thought, on why did she confess that time, four years ago, exactly two weeks after Sana graduated and she's still stuck in her third year. That time, the squirrel-like girl was everything for her, even Nayeon - her cousin - kept on lecturing her about would she not regret anything if they finally got together.

Sana is, by any chance available, weird - or eccentric as the girl defended herself back then. From lame pick up lines such as, "Hey, you look like my ex, would you mind if we rewind those happy times again?"

That one equals a slap from a red-faced Jihyo from anger and embarrassment, not a single speck of flatterment. Even so, Sana won't stop teasing her with other lame pick up lines, or sometimes grotesque ones. 

The perks of being younger than your childish lover, very funny, sarcasm drips from Jihyo's train of thoughts. She smiled, Sana was always there for her. Was.

Happiness doesn't last forever, stars will stop shining, bubbles will pop, rainbows will fade, but Jihyo knows more than experience that being hopeless and sad forever won't bring back the bubbles and rainbows. People has ups and downs, but sadness is a requirement for someone to strengthen up. As much as she likes to say that the way she references that is quite childish, it's rather true. 

Sana is different, she believes that once bubbles pop, it is a must to restore it. The bitter feeling of sadness is one that she would go lengths to avoid.

Then again, Jihyo can't do anything about their current state. Sana is stubborn, hard-headed, egoistic, name it, Jihyo lost track at how much she restrained herself from throwing a fit everytime Sana's childish attidude came into surface. 

Jihyo threw the water bottle loosely, letting it roll over the carpet before stopping with a loud thud from colliding with the small table. Dropping her body on the couch again, the brown haired girl can't help but close her eyes, all the craving for water to calm herself has dissipated to thin air. 

She hopes and hopes, that when her eyes flutter open after the sun sets, all of this will return to normal, as if nothing happened in first place.

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The creaking sound from the front door made Jihyo jump from her slumber, automatically sending