The studying goes about as well as Dahyun expected, if she’s completely honest.

  And by that she means not very well at all.

  Mina came with them to the library, offering her equal knowledge of first year chemistry to the younger girl as well as Jihyo’s, and well - that’s was great and everything, but Dahyun wished both of the girls paid more attention to her frustrated whines and huffs of displeasure as she tackled her work rather than each other. It was kind of cute, she admits reluctantly, soft serenity settling on Mina’s face with every word Jihyo spoke animatedly and with grand, exaggerated gestures.

  She almost didn’t want to interrupt them, but she had been stuck on this particular question for the better part of twenty minutes and was getting nowhere.

  “Jihyo, how do I balance the equation on question 21-”

  “Page 341.” Jihyo answers immediately, barely pausing her detailed description of the time Nayeon tried to fight a squirrel because it stole her bread to Mina. She resumes her tale, re-enacting the exact face Nayeon made when the squirrel started chasing her. Mina laughs, the sound high and tinkling as it floats around the almost empty library and it makes the desk attendant  shoot the trio a distasteful look from behind the counter.

  The pair miss the way Dahyun’s eyebrows shoot up, too engrossed in each other to spare the poor girl a glance. Dahyun can’t look at them for too long anyway, her eyes aching from the warm, glowing light surrounding their bodies. It was less painful than before, the brightness muted a little but the rays of light still ebbed and flowed in intensity with every chesty laugh and every accidental brush of hands.

  If Mina had have been paying attention, she might have picked up on how easily Jihyo answered a question from over a year ago with barely a moments hesitation.

  Dahyun doesn’t say a word, just hums and flicks to page 341 as she tucks away another little bit of information labelled ‘Park Jihyo’ in her head. She wonders if the girl even noticed the slip-up, concludes she’s too transfixed by a pale, gummy smile to care.

  Jihyo has to leave earlier than she planned, getting a text about an hour into their ‘study’ (staring at Mina lovingly) session from her parents asking her to come home. She slings her backpack over her shoulder and starts semi-running towards the exit, shouting farewells to Mina and Dahyun as she ran and earning another deserved glare from the attendant. Dahyun watches her go, wonders what was so important that Jihyo practically ran home to find out. She stops staring at the exit to turn to Mina, who predictably was staring after the long gone figure of the pretty second year with a small, content smile.

  Dahyun snorts, drawing her attention.

  “Way to make it obvious.”

  Mina raises a brow, face schooled in a perfect mask of indifference.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Dahyun raises an eyebrow back, grinning with uncontrollable delight.

  “I’m talking about the pretty little light display you put on for me with Miss Park. Quite impressive, I must say.” She muses, finger on her lips as a tell-tale strip of red rises on Mina’s cheeks.

  “,” the usually composed second year mutters under her breath, “I forgot about your power.” She murmurs lowly, even though the only other person around was the uninterested librarian thumbing through her book at an agonizingly slow pace.

  Dahyun oozes an unbearable smugness, set in the permanent smirk plastered on her face.

  “Mmm hmm,” she hums complacently, pinning the older girl with lazy eyes, “why haven’t you made a move yet?”

  Mina looks back, a little sad, a little withdrawn. Mostly there’s genuine confusement playing on her face, as if Dahyun already knew the answer.

  “I mean...isn’t that obvious?” She questions, eyes narrowing at the younger girl. “You can see as well as I do, I like her but she doesn’t like me back.”

  Dahyun reels back in her chair, thinks about the overpowering amber hue emitting from the subject of their conversation the entire time they were sat together. She narrows her eyes back, laughing nervously.

  “What do you mean?” She chuckles, a heavy feeling settling in her gut as a thought ran through her mind. “You can’t see it? The arrow, or whatever version it is you see of what I see?”

  “Dahyun,” Mina sighs heavily, the chair scraping against the floor as she shuffled forward anxiously, “Jihyo doesn’t have an arrow.”

  Her head is screaming at her, throwing the answer repeatedly against her skull rhythmically and brutally. She massages her temples, debates whether she wants to reveal this bit of information or not. Mina is looking at her, eyes littered with uncertainty and puzzlement.

  Dahyun throws caution to the wind, mutters a soft ‘ it’ before she rests a small hand on top of Mina’s. She was tired of seeing unhappy endings.

  “Mina,” she begins softly, finger tracing the back of a delicate hand in what she hoped was reassuring motions, “Jihyo is glowing.”

  The other girl jolts in her seat, eyes blown wide with astonishment and disbelief. is agape, opening and closing a few times in an effort to make sense of this information but all she manages to emit is a bewildered ‘huh?’. Dahyun smiles, pours all of her sincerity into her eyes and hopes it bleeds through.

  It takes a while but Mina finally manages to speak, thought the sentence is choked and her voice is high pitched in disbelief.

  “ How ?” She stutters, “she doesn’t, I don’t, there’s no-”

  “I think,” Dahyun interrupts, now holding both of Mina’s hands in her own, “that your power doesn’t work in relation to yourself.”

  “Are you sure?” Mina says, hopes that the tangled thread of hope in her lungs doesn’t end up constricting her. Breathing was difficult enough with the shaft of a single arrow through her chest, she doesn’t think she can withstand anymore pressure.

  Dahyun shrugs, eyes glistening fondly.

  “No, but would it be so bad to try?”

  There’s a hole in her chest,  punctured clean through skin and bones and piercing her heart  once and true, but she feels it lessen as softly woven string begins to sew it shut.

She’s tugged into an empty classroom the next day, gentle fingers wrapping around her arm in a soft but firm grip as she felt her center of gravity shift off tilt. She almost drops the books in her arms but she is balance