(

Wendy gets nightmares. The kind that makes her heart pound and her fingers tremble. The kind that wakes her up in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face and heels of hands pressed to her ears. The kind that makes her scared to go back to sleep.

The nightmares are pretty much the same, but Wendy can never understand them. All she remembers are fire, screams, and eyes that meet hers through the smoke, and then disappear.

Back in Canada, she only had the nightmares for at most three straight nights every six months, but it’s been two weeks and Wendy’s still having the nightmares, whether she was having a short afternoon nap or sleeping for the night.

When she wakes up, the writings on the ceiling greet her. “don’t forget,” it says, in what Wendy thinks is Yeri’s handwriting, exactly like the handwriting on the cups of coffee. There are several different handwritings surrounding it, different words and phrases but all the same meaning: “we won’t”.

)

…

The next time she wakes up, Joy’s anxious face greets her. And she’s rambling about something. “—I mean she said she’d cook breakfast today, and I’ll cook tomorrow, now suddenly it’s my fault? And Kim Ye—ugh, she woke up before me and didn’t even think of cooking?” Joy moves and the sunlight blinds Wendy. “And now that little rascal’s running late, and Irene’s mad at me.”

She sits up, groaning, and presses her fists against her closed eyes. Her heart’s still beating too fast from being woken up in the middle of a nightmare. “Can I get a drink?” she croaks out, voice scratchy.

She hears the fridge opens, then closes, and then a cold can hits her calf and she takes it, still with her eyes closed. She pops open the drink, frowns to herself at the fizz, then takes a sip.

And immediately spits it out, opening her eyes to glare at a cheeky Joy. “This is beer.” Joy raises an eyebrow quizzically, so she adds, “You can’t make me drink beer first thing in the morning when I’m parched!”

Joy waves a dismissive hand. “We don’t stock water in the fridge here. If it wasn’t obvious enough, we usually just drink here. You can get yourself wet in the kitchen.”

She sends Joy a glare. But it’s Joy, and Joy doesn’t really hide the fact that she’s an who likes to use other terms to make other people uncomfortable, so Wendy just sighs and stands, feeling the back of her neck ache. “I’m sore.”

“Don’t say that around Irene, she’ll think we hooked up and she’ll get even madder at me.” Joy groans, throwing her head back and glaring at the sun. “Although I have this sneaking suspicion that Irene’s just easily frustrated these days because Yeri and I are going around having our own investigation behind her back.”

“Investigation?” Wendy echoes, squinting up at Joy as she stretches her neck.

Joy smirks at her. “We’re clearing your name, Wendy.” She jumps to Wendy, grabs her hands, then pulls her to the door.

Wendy can only groan as the world spins, and ’s still parched, but she grumbles, “I didn’t even do anything!”

-

It’s not that Wendy was listening in on the conversation, it’s just that Irene and Joy have loud voices and especially so when they’re screaming at each other. Irene made them lock themselves in Seulgi’s room as she ‘speaks’ with Joy, but Seulgi’s room isn’t exactly soundproof.

She feels so out of place, even in clothes Seulgi let her borrow, her hair smelling of Joy’s shampoo, and Irene’s egg rolls in her stomach. She feels so out of place and the riddled words make no sense at all.

Yeri sits on Seulgi’s office chair, spinning a pencil in her fingers. “They’re so loud,” she complains, almost without any energy at all.

“It’s not her! There’s a new suspicious survivor from Park’s town—”

“And he might just be a survivor! Like so many of this town’s residents. She’s—” Wendy winces at that, Irene’s voice poisonous, “—suspicious. Not Mark Tuan.”

“How are you sure?”

“Mark’s a survivor, S—” there’s a pause as Yeri and Seulgi share a look. And then, there’s an almost soft “We’re taking him in because he needs a home.”

“It’s not her, though. And if it’s not Mark, then it’s someone else, not her.”

“What am I not?” Wendy asks Seulgi and Yeri, frustrated. She plops down on Seulgi’s bed and stares up at the drawings on the ceiling—artistic and beautiful even though Wendy’s sure it was hard drawing on the ceiling. She tries to focus on that. Tries to focus on the beauty of Seulgi’s work, and not the confusion.

Seulgi looks up from her notebook. “The enemy,” she mutters. She looks almost conflicted as her gaze flicks to Yeri, and she asks, “She isn’t, is she?”

“It’s not her,” Yeri says with conviction, studying Wendy almost intrusively. “It’s not her, or at least she doesn’t know it’s her.” Yeri, spinning herself on the chair, throws her head back and eyes the drawings like Wendy. “Something’s different this month, and I’m…” she in a breath, “afraid.”

Wendy’s heart throbs at the uncertainty in Yeri’s tone, the fear in the way she almost whispers the last word. “I’m not the threat, though, right?” She sits up and finds Seulgi staring sadly at her. “I can’t understand what threat you’re talking about. I know absolutely nothing, and I’m so confused but—”

Seulgi looks away, bites her lips; Yeri stops spinning.

Wendy sighs. “But I don’t want to hurt you guys.”

There’s quiet between them—Yeri playing with the tie on her school uniform; Seulgi looking out the window; Wendy trying to catch any of their eyes.

There’s a knock on Seulgi’s door and she stands abruptly, notebook falling. She stares at it for a moment, sends Wendy a sheepish smile, then opens the door.

Joy stands on the other side, looking almost on the verge of angry tears. “Yeri’s late. Irene’s making us come with her.” She peeks through Seulgi’s side at Wendy. “And we’re driving you home, too.”

“I have my car.”

“Do you think Irene cares?” Joy snaps.

Seulgi turns to look at Yeri and Wendy, then looks at Joy again. “Come on, now. Don’t mind her. She’s just stressed.” She grabs Joy’s hand, starts rubbing circles on it. Seulgi bounces on her feet. “I’m sure Wendy appreciates you trying to clear her name.”

At the mention of her name, Wendy instantly nods. She sends Joy two thumbs up with a cheeky grin that feels forced after hearing the venom in Irene’s voice. “Because I’m not the enemy, right?”

“No,” says Joy with a shake of her head.

“At least, we don’t think so,” Yeri intercepts, standing. She glances at Wendy, then walks to the door, saying, “We hope you’re not. We’re going to prove you’re not.”

-

Wendy tries to ask Joy more questions. As they drive to uni using Wendy’s car (after some scathing glares from Irene, of course, and a soft tap from Yeri to Irene); as they walk to Wendy’s first class, which is near Joy’s first class; as Seulgi, Joy, and Yeri wait for Irene to pick them up.

As Joy bids the three goodbye, asking to stay back with Wendy, and as they walk to Wendy’s Physics class.

She keeps asking, “What does the enemy do?”

And Joy keeps answering, “You’re not the enemy, Wen.”

But Wendy’s still scared. The fear in Yeri’s voice echoes in her head, the ‘don’t forget’ swimming behind her eyelids. Irene’s eyes studying Wendy from the other side of the room, always asking questions Wendy can’t answer—they haunt her.

Because they look like they’re stopping themselves from trusting, and Wendy was told not to break Irene’s trust but Irene doesn’t even trust her.

Joy does, but Joy doesn’t answer everything. Seulgi does, but Seulgi sometimes reels away like she’s burned. Yeri might, but Yeri’s scared.

Wendy settles for the cryptic answers and just hopes it’s not her.

-

Park Jinyoung is her assigned partner in Physics. They’re supposed to make a scrapbook about the topics they learned about in class—like they’re in high school.

Jinyoung is snarky, sassy, and altogether annoying, but he knows a lot about Physics and he’s not a freeloader, so Wendy’s at least thankful for him. Physics classes are cancelled for the day, but Jinyoung wants to meet up to plan their work, and Wendy’s lying if she said she didn’t like someone who didn’t procrastinate at all.

As soon as Wendy arrives with Joy, however, he scowls. “Why are you here? I picked my schedule carefully so I don’t get any classes with you.”

“You got a class with my pastry chef, though,” Joy shoots back breezily, smirking as she slips in the seat in front of Jinyoung. “How’s the support group?”

Jinyoung’s scowl deepens, clearing the space in front of Joy not because he’s polite, but because it seems like he doesn’t want his stuff anywhere near her. “Yeah, okay. Shout it to the whole town, will you?”

“That you’re in a support group?”

“Yes.” He turns to Wendy. “Why did you bring her?”

Wendy shrugs, sitting beside Joy. “I had no idea you were on bad terms, and she claims to specialize in Physics.”

“I do,” Joy muses, studying her fingernails haughtily. “Density’s formula can be simplified to Destiny.”

Of course, Joy’s just here to annoy her. Wendy groans, rolling her eyes. “Okay, miss ‘destiny’, you may shut up now.”

“Your destiny is heartbreak—” Joy adds a cheeky wink, because she’s Joy, “—and density is equal to m—” she grabs Jinyoung’s pen and writes an m, “—over—” then write a dash underneath, “—v—” then a v. She grins at Wendy. “Heartbreak.”

“Way to romanticize Physics,” Wendy grumbles, but tucks that destiny bull in a folder in the back of her head for future uses, aka the scrapbook.

Joy shrugs. “Isn’t Physics fun?” She turns to Jinyoung. “Newton’s third law, ‘for every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction,’ tell me what I need to know and I’ll answer your question.”

Jinyoung stiffens, gaze flicking between Wendy and Joy. “I don’t have questions.”

“What’s he doing here, then?”

Jinyoung averts his gaze, looking back down at his notebook and writing forcefully. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

For a moment, Joy just stares at him tiredly. Then she sighs and asks Wendy to step away, and Wendy does.

She steps away and watches the sea instead. The university’s at the absolute edge of the city, at the corner. One side is covered with trees, the other side’s the sea.

Wendy thinks the sea here is magical. It’s right behind The All Nighter, and she remembers vaguely taking the party from inside the bar to the beach behind. She feels the sand between her toes, the night breeze whispering against her cheeks. The moon, so pretty.

The sea today is restless, though. Almost angry. Wendy watches as Jinyoung and Joy talk in hushed voices—Jinyoung gesturing angrily as Joy sits calmly.

An idea knocks on her skull as she watches the sea, and without knowing she’s stepping towards the bickering pair again, gaze glued to the restless sea.

One particularly huge wave wakes Wendy up from her trance, and she grabs Joy’s elbow as soon as the waves stop, breathless. “Who guards the sea?” she asks, trying not to sound so terrified.

But Joy hears the fear, and she studies Wendy for a moment before glancing at the sea. “Taeyeon’s group. They’re amazing at their job, the threat doesn’t come from the sea.”

“Where, then? If Leeteuk’s group guards the woods, and Taeyeon’s guards the sea—where? The woods cover the right and front, the sea covers the left and back, right?”

Jinyoung meets Wendy’s eyes, his own dark. He turns and observes the horizon, and in a low voice, says, “Those aren’t the only way in.”

Wendy stares confused at him, brow quirking. She didn’t know he knew what the secret was. As far as Wendy knows, Jinyoung’s not part of any group and only hangs out with the hyper boy named Jackson. Maybe sometimes with those three smiley, singing girls.

But never with the locals. She chooses not to ask, because it seems like Jinyoung’s not willing to talk. “But those are all the sides,” she reminds him instead.

Joy speaks before Jinyoung can even part his lips, “They might’ve found a hole or something. We think they always go through the same entry.” She sends Wendy a smile that used to just make her shrug off the weirdness. “Besides, it can’t be the sea because we’d, well, see—” her eyes glint at the pun; Jinyoung and Wendy share eye rolls, “—them coming through. Yunho guards the sky.”

“And he does a damn good job. Can’t say the same for the cheeky downstairs.” Jinyoung huffs, looking so utterly annoyed. But he’s missing some bite, missing the energy.

Wendy turns to Joy, but Joy’s already shrugging before she can even send her a questioning look. “I’ve talked to Jinyoung already, and he seems—” she eyes Jinyoung, “—tired. I’m going home.”

“I am. Tired, I mean.” He looks disgruntled, and he’s sweating a little. He gathers his things and drops them in his bag.

Wendy and Joy watch as he zips his bag closed, then stands. They watch as he walks away, shoulders hunched and Wendy can see him stretching his fingers. Joy sighs beside her.

Jinyoung turns around, looking out at the horizon, then says, “We don’t talk with them anymore, and I haven’t seen him at all since—since he arrived. I have no idea what his intentions are, but I don’t think they’re—I don’t think they’re pure.” He looks at Joy, meets her eyes. “Do what you must. Protect us.”

Joy nods, and Jinyoung turns around again, walking away.

His shoulders shake, and Wendy’s heart aches for him, not knowing what happened but seeing in the way he’s acting that it’s affecting him deeply.

Joy speaks before she can ask, “Let’s go home.”

And her voice cracks just a little, tugs at Wendy’s heart just a little, and Wendy knows she doesn’t like this at all either.

Wendy knows this enemy they’re talking about—this threat—shouldn’t be taken so lightly, and if turns out to be Wendy herself, Joy’s voice wouldn’t be the only thing cracking.

-

After that stunt in The All Nighter, and sneaking in late at night to bake, Wendy’s body clock became even more messed up. So, instead of baking every morning before her first class, Wendy bakes at night. She always tries to finish before midnight to avoid needing to sleep over again.

But there’s always too much to make, and none of the other girls actually contribute, and Jisung likes to chatter about his day as he waits for Taeyong to pick him up.

Irene offers to drive her home instead, and then pick her up during mornings because driving her home means she’s leaving her car in the parking lot next to Peek-A-Brew. It’s too much of a hassle for Irene, Wendy knows, and she tries to reject, but after that night of sneaking in and Irene’s disappointed gaze burning her, she learned to just say yes.

-

Wendy likes Peek-A-Brew at night better. It’s quiet when she’s baking, and she can play her playlist all she wants. Taeyong also turns out to be a big ball of sunshine who has a childish laugh, and he and Jisung sometimes stay a little longer and keep Wendy company as the elderly ladies sleep and the girls prepare for the night.

That’s another thing Wendy likes about baking at night: the girls take turns looking after the shop, so she always has someone with her, talking to her after Jisung and Taeyong bid her goodbye.

And Wendy likes to think that after 11 pm, you must only talk about things you’re too afraid to talk about when the morning comes. Because there’s something entirely intimate about late nights, and when else are you going to talk about things that are hard to swallow? And having deep talks with the girls? Getting to know them more outside of their reputations?

What more can Wendy ask for?

-

Seulgi is pretty much easy to talk to. She has a lot of thoughts, and with the right song, she talks about them. She helps mix ingredients as she does, stops in the middle of talking to ask about the song, and asks Wendy for her comments about her stories.

“I’m really worried about Irene,” Seulgi mutters under her breath the first night, kneading the dough Wendy handed to her. “She keeps everything to herself, and I’m sure she’s stressed about having to deal with threats every month. And she… she needs to learn how to trust other people.”

“She trusts Mark Tuan, doesn’t she? I’m pretty sure I heard her say he’s just a survivor of some kind.”

“She doesn’t.” Seulgi looks up, studies Wendy sadly. “She just doesn’t want to trust you.”

-

Seulgi listens, too. She listens to Wendy ramble about Canada, and her friends, and the organizations she joined just to have a reason to sing in front of a crowd. She listens with sincere eyes and laughs at all the right parts, and Wendy always briefly wonders why someone as pure as Seulgi has such a reputation.

Seulgi has many thoughts, but most of those are good. She thinks of others before she can even remember herself.

And maybe that’s where the problem lies.

-

While Seulgi listens, and talks about her many thoughts, Joy likes to play a game where she answers Wendy’s questions, and Wendy has to answer hers.

“Who’s Mark Tuan?”

“An escapee from the town nearby. Or, well, he claims to be an escapee.” A beat, Joy blinks. “What’s your family like?”

“Like a normal Asian family in Canada. My parents don’t outright pressure us, but it’s in the way they look disappointed when we fail. My sister’s so much smarter than I am. She brings home gold, while I bring home silver.” She mixes the batter, makes sure it’s smooth. “What’s your family like?”

“Dead.”

-

Wendy should’ve know, obviously, that family’s a sensitive topic. Yeri did tell her it was. But she still asked, and there was pain in the way Joy stiffened as she feigned lack of concern over the topic and threw a question back at Wendy.

While Seulgi keeps her heart hidden within her riddled thoughts, Joy keeps her heart in her movement. Seulgi’s thoughts speak for her, and Joy’s fingertips scream for her.

-

“Do you think Seulgi hates me?”

“No. Do you want Seulgi to hate you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you being so annoying towards her?”

Joy’s lips lift into a sardonic smile, but she doesn’t snap at Wendy for asking another question. “Because she only remembers me when I annoy her these days. She’s too busy. We’re too busy. When there are threats around, you have no time for love.”

-

Yeri doesn’t like talking. She likes singing.

She hums along to songs, belts out the notes, lulls Wendy to almost sleep with her sweet voice. She knows Yeri’s helping Joy clear her name—clear her of being an enemy—but Yeri still keeps her distance with sarcasm, songs, and her phone between them.

Wendy tries, but Yeri doesn’t talk. Or at least, about the deeper things. Yeri talks about Saeron, and her annoying classmate Mark, and Ariana Grande’s new songs. But she doesn’t talk about Irene’s sudden mood changes, doesn’t talk about the writings on the rooftop, doesn’t talk about why she’s scared.

Sometimes, Yeri reminds Wendy so much of herself—so willing to talk but not about the things that are intimate, not about her vulnerabilities.

So, Wendy spends nights with Yeri with only songs sung under their breath, recommendations flicked from one to the other.

Yeri’s singing speaks for her. As she sings Imagine Dragon’s Demons under her breath, sitting on a chair she pulled to the middle of the shop as she stares out the door, playing with the cover of her phone, her singing speaks for her.

-

Irene is hardest to crack.

She doesn’t talk, doesn’t ask, doesn’t sing, and doesn’t like listening to songs. Wendy has to keep the volume low, just enough for it to sound like a whisper.

When it’s Irene’s night to guard, Wendy always stays up with her until one of the other girls wake up and Irene’s free to drive her home. But it’s always quiet, and Wendy doesn’t like the quiet.

“It’s 11 pm,” Wendy says pointedly one night, looking at her wristwatch. Her shoulders are sore from baking, cookies in the oven as she waits in the shop with Irene. But she smiles at Irene, because Irene is someone you should smile at.

Irene raises an eyebrow at her, not understanding what Wendy means. “So what if it’s 11 pm?”

“It’s that time of the night when you should start talking about things that make you vulnerable.” A wistful smile lifts her lips as she exposes her neck to look up at the ceiling, then close her eyes. “My friends back in Canada used to come over to our place at 10 pm. We'd buy some snacks from the nearest convenience store, some soda too. Then we’d talk until the sun rises and we wouldn’t even notice.”

“Sounds like something out of a sappy coming of age movie that deals with all those teenage angsts.”

Wendy chuckles. “It does, doesn’t it? Those were the best nights of my life. Better than staying in bed not falling asleep, you know?” She winks; Irene rolls her eyes. “So, talk about yourself, Miss Irene.”

“I don’t need to talk about myself. We can spend the night in silence.”

“We can, but this is when the raw emotions come out. The moment when you should open up about your deepest, darkest secrets to a stranger.”

Irene frowns. “That sounds dangerous.”

“I’m not a stranger,” Wendy reminds her. “And I’m not going to tell anyone else, anyway.” She nudges Irene with her shoulder, smiling up at the unamused girl. “C’mon, tell me everything you’ve bottled up inside. We have all night.”

Irene gulps, then looks away. “I don’t bottle up anything inside. I always talks to Seulgi, Joy, and—”

“—and Yeri? Wow, didn’t expect that,” Wendy interrupts sarcastically. Then she laughs. “What a liar. You don’t bottle up anything? You’re such a mom, you wouldn’t want those three idiots to know if you’re hurting.”

“They don’t need to,” Irene replies shortly.

Wendy smiles softly. “But they do know.”

Irene clears . “We’re here to keep watch, not chatter.” But her eyes are suddenly thoughtful, and Wendy knows she hit a spot.

-

There’s something about Irene’s eyes that makes her try every night. Irene’s eyes always look conflicted between trusting and keeping the distance, fingers always curling before they can touch Wendy. But these days, she looks more trusting than distanced.

So, Wendy asks, the next night because Seulgi had an errand to run and couldn’t guard, “Why don’t you trust me?”

“Because, Wendy, you’re not from here.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Neither is Mark Tuan, is he? But you seem to be more accepting of the idea that he’s not the enemy.”

Irene sighs, taps her fingers against her knees. “Do you even know what the enemy does, Wendy?”

“Hurt you,” she mutters, heart aching at the thought of anyone hurting the four, and the fact that a new threat slips in every month for some reason. “I wouldn’t do that. I don’t want to hurt you.”

There it is again, Irene meets her eyes with the same storm always in them. War waging in irises. She blinks, then looks away. “You almost seem sincere.”

“I am.”

“I told you, Wendy, no risks when it comes to people you love.”

And the people Irene loves are Joy, Yeri, Seulgi, and the other locals. Wendy doesn’t have anyone she can say she loves in this town. Maybe Hyejin and Wheein. She’d love to say Irene, Seulgi, Joy, and Yeri. Jisung.

But that’s Wendy’s mistake—she loves too easily, and now she’s attached. And these people are too closed off to even think of her as a friend.

She sighs. “I wish I can just, I don’t know, unlove you guys.”

For a moment, Irene stiffens, gaze darting to Wendy. Then she snorts. “You think you love us?”

“What’s not to love? I’m alone here and you guys, despite your reputations, you took me in as your pastry chef and you—ugh. I don’t know.”

“Ever realized this might be how we treat all those threats? Keep your friends close, your enemies closer?”

She tries not to hurt too much at that, tries to numb her heart. “I—I guess I just don’t care anymore. You’re all guarded with your walls, but sometimes I peek through the cracks and—and I see that you don’t hate me anyway.” She sits up, rolling her shoulders. “And Joy said she’s actually my friend.”

“You believe her?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Irene shrugs, looking like she doesn’t have an answer to that. “You should learn how to control your emotions, Wendy. Stop yourself when you’re about to fall into the madness.”

Wendy laughs, hand to her chest. “You say it like it’s possible!”

Irene scowls, offended. “What’s wrong with what I said?”

“No offense, Miss Irene—” Irene’s scowl deepens; Wendy smirks, “—but when you fall, you ing fall. There is no saving yourself, there is no ‘stopping the feelings’. It’s a free fall with no parachutes.”

“So you’re going to die?” Irene deadpans.

Wendy shrugs. “You’d want to die. But there’s honestly no escape. Once you realize you’re falling, you’re already about to hit the ground. It’s how it works.”

“You sound like you don’t have enough control over yourself, Wendy.”

“And you sound like you believe you’re stronger than your heart,” Wendy retorts. “No one is. Some people just know how to hide it well, and others don’t. But no one can will their heart into feeling something else.”

Irene stares at her, brows furrowed and lips curled. Then she sighs. “I suppose you’re correct.”

“You also can’t force yourself to always be strong, you know,” she says, suddenly soft. She smiles warmly at Irene’s confused stare. “If you’re hurting, you’re allowed to. Let yourself hurt. Let yourself fall. It’s what creatures with feelings do.”

“Even monsters?” Irene asks sarcastically.

Wendy nods. “Even if you think you’re a monster.” She her drying lips. “Even if you think that as a monster, it'd be insulting if you were hurting.” She looks away, Irene’s eyes intimidating. “You’re not one, Irene.”

“I didn’t say I was.”

Wendy smiles to herself, feeling Irene’s gaze burning her face. “You didn’t have to.”

-

Something must’ve shifted in the air between them. A lightbulb must’ve switched on in Irene’s head. Because she’s suddenly letting herself go.

She lets herself laugh as much as she did before Johnny came in and Wendy got herself drunk in The All Nighter. She lets Wendy play her songs louder, lets herself actually touch Wendy.

And Irene’s eyes speak for her. There’s newfound brightness in them as she looks at Wendy, it’s not clouded with the walls, not dim with the urge to not trust.

Wendy’s heart is what speaks for her, and her heart leaps every time Irene looks at her with those eyes, swells every time Joy hugs her for doing her a favor, burns every time Seulgi talks about her thoughts, flies every time Yeri sings.

Her heart bursts when Yeri and Joy greet her as she walks out her last class a week before the full moon, grinning at her as they say ‘we’re going to play laser tag! It’s Yeri’s birthday!’

Her heart is tickled as Yeri and Joy link arms with her, protective against the students staring and most likely thinking Wendy’s going to disappear soon.

And her heart believes she won’t disappear.

-

Just because Irene’s more carefree these days, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have mood swings anymore. This, Wendy realizes as soon as she steps in the gaming center, Johnny greeting her with a wink and escorting her to the waiting area outside the laser tag arena.

Irene barely looks up at her, talking quietly with Seulgi—who smiles and waves at Wendy before going back to talking with Irene.

Johnny tuts before saying, “She’s nervous.” Then he leaves, running to the guy manning the counter with a scream of ‘Donghyuck, you , I told you to stop stealing!’

She looks back at Irene, who’s cold and acting like they didn’t spend the night before laughing at Wendy’s interpretative dancing to Sam Smith’s slow songs. Joy appears next to her with Yeri, spinning a gun around her finger with so much ease Wendy has a sneaking suspicion she plays here all the time.

“Ready to make Doyoung bite the dust?” Joy asks. “We’re playing against some of the owners, they always lose against me when it comes to laser tag.”

Yeri huffs. “Yeah, and no one can win against her arrogance either. What a lovely woman.”

Yeri and Joy bicker beside her, trapping her between. But her eyes are only on Irene, willing her to look up.

When Irene does, she doesn’t meet Wendy’s. “Let’s go.” And there’s a quiver in her voice as her gaze brushes against Wendy’s face, then she enters the arena without another look.

-

Joy tells her to not leave her side, and Wendy intends to do just that, but when a shot misses Joy by less than an inch, Joy takes off running and Wendy tries to run after her.

But she gets lost and runs into Irene instead, who scowls at her. “Why are you alone?”

“Joy ran after some guy I assume is Doyoung,” she answers, a pout on her lips.

Irene sighs. “I told her not to invite you.”

“Why won’t you invite me to Yeri’s birthday celebration?” she asks, trying not to sound too hurt at that and keeping her tone light and playfully accusatory.

Irene glances at her, then rolls her eyes. She pulls Wendy to a secluded place, looking around. “This isn’t just some kind of game, okay?”

“I know you’re competitive, but laser tag is a game.”

“Just for today, can you get out of our way?” Irene snaps, pushing Wendy against the wall as she takes another look around.

Wendy frowns. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re not supposed to be here, Wendy.” Irene’s still not looking at her.

And Wendy almost grabs Irene’s chin to make her face her, because Irene’s eyes don’t lie, and Wendy needs to see Irene’s eyes. But she keeps her hands hanging limply against her side. “Do you not trust me again?”

“No risking when it comes to the people you love.”

“Are we back to that again?” she grumbles, annoyed. “That was just a week ago. How can you change so easily?”

Irene turns to her. “What?”

She meets Irene’s eyes bravely, sees the war waging behind them once more. “Why can’t you trust me? I try so hard to show you my intentions are pure. I just want to belong in this wacky town.”

“Because I don’t want to!” Irene almost screams, stepping forward and placing her hands against Wendy’s shoulders. “I don’t want to because I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Risk what?”

“It’s impossible for someone to make me let them in so easily, but you did. And that’s—it’s impossible. The only explanation is you putting a spell on me—on us.”

Wendy steps back as Irene takes another step forward, but there’s a wall behind her and she can’t take another step backwards. “Why is it so impossible to just trust me? I told you, I’m not the enemy! I’m not the threat! And I don’t have any intentions of hurting you.”

“It took me years to like Sooyoung, a few months for Seulgi and Yerim. And here you go, with your cake and your amazing voice, and your soft hands and pretty lips, here you go breaking me the moment you asked if we had an opening for a pastry chef.”

Irene takes a deep breath, steps forward and deeper into Wendy’s space. “And you’re so genuine, so sincere! It’s too hard not to like you, to trust you.”

Wendy blinks owlishly at her. Partly because she doesn’t know who Sooyoung is, and can only guess it’s Joy—then what’s Irene’s real name?—but also mostly because Irene’s leaning too close and her breath’s hot against Seungwan’s nose.

“Sooyoung’s Joy, in case you’re that slow,” Irene says, rolling her eyes and leaning back, crossing her arms across her chest. Her cheeks are a nice tint of pink, pale under the neon lights. “And my real name’s Joohyun in case you’re wondering.”

“I’m Seungwan,” she says, raising her hand up. Irene—Joohyun—eyes it. “Son Seungwan. Wendy’s my name from… from Canada. My closest friends call me Seungwan.”

Joohyun rolls her eyes once again, swatting Seungwan’s hand. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

“What do I say, then? I still don’t know you. I don’t know why you guys switch schedules to stay up all night protecting the other three. I don’t know why you guys have a reputation of serial killers, and why people avoid you on full moons. I don’t know why you’re so scared of people outside your own circles!”

“Can we not talk about that?” Joohyun snaps, glaring at Seungwan. “I just confessed my—my feelings for you. Can we focus on that?”

“How can I say I like you back when I don’t even know you? We spent a lot of time talking about the little things when we haven’t even tackled the bigger ones. I don’t even know your last name!”

“It’s Bae!” Joohyun screams, obviously annoyed. She pushes her gun against Seungwan’s chest. “You’re wasting my time.”

Seungwan scoffs, staring at her gun on the floor. “Fine, kill me.”

Joohyun’s eyes quiver, her breath stops against Seungwan’s cheek. She then scoffs. “You don’t know how much hearing that hurt.”

“It’s just laser tag, Joohyun.”

“Yeah,” Joohyun says, eyeing her. “Just laser tag.”

Seungwan stares at her eyes, and Joohyun stares back. Breaths mix between their lips, heartbeats sing to the same song. Seungwan can hear her blood flowing through her veins, all her senses overwhelmed by Joohyun. And then, when it’s close enough, she gasps.

Joohyun’s eyes widen, almost as if she’s woken up. Then they’re back to being half-lidded. She closes the gap between their lips, and Seungwan swears she doesn’t know the taste of heaven but she’s pretty sure Joohyun’s lips is better.

Joohyun’s left hand, the unoccupied one, makes its way to Seungwan’s back, pulling her closer. And Seungwan’s own hands circle Joohyun’s neck, asking for more. She was just looking for a friend, maybe. Ready to settle for a friend, because Joohyun’s someone who can have anything, and Seungwan’s crush on her was doomed from the start.

But now she’s kissing her, lips molding into whatever shape Joohyun’s make. Her heart’s fluttering in her ribcage, reaching out towards Joohyun’s. And both their eyes are closed, but Seungwan hopes Joohyun mirrors the attraction in her eyes.

Just as she was about to dive deep into the feeling of kissing Bae Joohyun, she feels a nudge against her chest, and Joohyun pulls away, smirking. “Out,” she whispers, voice illegally low and eyes impossibly dark.

She realizes what happened as she pulls away further and finds a green spot on her vest. She gasps, offended, and hits Joohyun’s chest. “I can’t believe you!” Dread fills in and she stares horrified at Joohyun, whose smile quickly fades and stares back. “Was all that—was everything part of your, like—”

“What? No. The confession was real.”

The ice cold feeling melts and Seungwan’s left with just warmth once again. She smiles shyly. “I do… uh… also like you. But I also do want to know the reasons, too.” She meets Joohyun’s once again hesitant eyes. “Let me in?”

Joohyun sighs, then nods. Then she leans closer and kisses Seungwan once again, just a peck this time, then whispers into her lips, “I will.”

Then she’s pulling away and backing away, winking as she shoots Seungwan one more time before running away to look for her next victim.

Seungwan just sighs, shakes her head, and cups her own burning cheeks as she grumbles, “ing unfair,” before taking her gun off the floor and making her way towards the exit.

She laughs to herself. What a nice way to die, with Joohyun against her and their lips crashing. It’s almost ideal.

Now all other deaths won’t come close to being the best.

-

Seungwan’s first out, but that didn’t surprise her. What surprises her is, after at least ten minutes of waiting, the other girls coming out of the arena grinning from ear to ear. Joohyun’s looking at her slyly and Yerim is bouncing.

“It’s not my birthday,” she admits to Seungwan, almost shaking in excitement.

Sooyoung pushes her back with a roll of the eyes. “It was a threat. We came here to look for the threat, since Taeyong’s group said someone was lurking around here.”

“Did you get them?” she asks hopefully, slipping her phone in her pocket as she stands. She avoids Joohyun’s eyes, knowing she’d blush madly if she sees them. “Made them disappear?”

Seulgi shakes her head. “He got away. But…” she smiles proudly, so warmly, “now we know you’re not the threat.”

Joohyun nods. “And as a bet, Sooyoung and Yerim—”

“And Seulgi!” Seulgi interrupts.

Joohyun rolls her eyes, sighing playfully. “—and Seulgi. They said if you turned out to be innocent, we’ll trust you wholeheartedly, and tell you what you need to know. Which is why they invited you, because they were so sure you weren’t the threat.” She eyes them softly, a smile playing on her lips. “I shouldn’t have doubted them.”

“You’re letting me in?” she asks, meeting Joohyun’s eyes. And she almost gasps at the beauty. She kissed that.

Joohyun smiles. “We’re letting you in.”

“Can I tell her, though?” Yerim asks, grin blinding. Joohyun nods and she latches herself onto Seungwan.

She screams the revelation, making Seungwan freeze up and Seulgi and Sooyoung join the hug, Joohyun watching them happily.

“We’re Witches!”

A/N:

if it wasn’t obvious enough, I got that kiss idea from that peek a boo making vid that I definitely do not watch every few hours. Also, this was long ‘cause I wanted to actually propel the story forward, enough of the pining (because that’s not their biggest problem anyway lol).

Title is from Trevor Wesley’s Slow Dance.

I hope you enjoyed this! Leave a comment!

thepurplewan