This isn’t the first time, but it’s the first time she can remember:   Nayeon’s nose is buried in a book, stacks of papers and post-it notes scattered all over her desk. She’s in one of her oversized shirts, a couple buttons undone because the air conditioner has always been a little too stubborn and short circuits at the worst possible times. The apartment is tiny, cramped, a human-sized box at most, but Mina’s starting to call it home.   “I’ve got work to do,” Nayeon says, but Mina knows she doesn’t really mean anything by it. She slips onto her lap, easily, and Nayeon doesn’t even complain. There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips and Mina only presses a kiss to the corner of , arms lazily looped around the other girl’s neck.   “One more time, and then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day. Promise?”   “Just make it quick,” is all she says, between short bouts of laughter because Mina tucks her face into the crook of her neck and nudges that one little spot under her jaw she’s always been ticklish at. Her book is put down, pages against the table, and she holds her hand out regardless, watches the way Mina’s fingertips dance across the creases of her palm.   (“One, two, three, a temps levé, watch my legs–– Nayeon, are you watch–– hey, hey, hey, wait–– let go!”   There’s arms that lock around her waist, and before she knows it, Nayeon is lifting her up –– failing terribly –– and then they’re both on the ground, Mina on top of Nayeon. Her arms and legs are spread out starfish-style, and Mina only prods at her cheek, just to make sure she’s okay. The sound of regret that comes out of Nayeon makes her grin.   “Pasta for two, right? With double croissants,” Nayeon says, hands moving to rest comfortably on top of her thighs.   That makes Mina laugh. Her shoulders shake, her eyes twinkle, and Nayeon feels her heart swell ten times bigger.   “It’s a pas de deux,” she manages to say between a couple lingering laughs, smile wide as a finger trails down the curve of Nayeon’s cheek, “not pasta for two. And by double croissant, I think you meant a double cabriole.”   “Oh,” Nayeon says lamely. Her cheeks heat up out of apparent embarrassment and Mina only leans down, nudging her nose with her own.   “Your memory’s always been terrible. An A for effort though.” There’s a light pat to Nayeon’s cheek. “Plus, I appreciate you watching me review.”   “I like watching anything you do,” Nayeon murmurs, lips pursing for a kiss.   Mina leans in close enough for the glint in Nayeon’s eyes to turn smug, and she smoothes her hands down on the girl's shoulders instead, pushing herself up and off the girl rather than giving her the kiss she was supplicating for. Nayeon complains for a solid minute.)   “You should get back to your work,” Mina says, nudging Nayeon softly.   They’ve found comfort on the ground despite their earlier mishap –– Mina claims it’s just a dancer’s thing, you know, finding her heart on the floor, and Nayeon’s stopped bickering with her about it because she guesses she’ll just never understand. She’s snug between Nayeon’s legs, and the other girl hooks her chin on her shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around her waist. The sun is starting to set with its oranges and reds splattered across the sky outside, and it’s a tiny bit reminiscent of the very first time Nayeon kisses her.   (It's a Thursday, and one night with a whole bunch of popsicles ended up changing both of their lives for, well, the better:   They're sitting shoulder to shoulder, hands sticky with the remnants of melting popsicles they finish in thirty minutes flat. It’s the result of summer break boredom, and Jeongyeon, Nayeon’s next door neighbor who also ended up getting brain freeze from only one popsicle and had to run all the way back home, said there was no way anyone could finish a whole box of bomb pops in under an hour. Nayeon, easily, and also Mina, dragged into this against her will, begged to differ.   (They're in the midst of what everyone calls these days –– the “talking" phase –– and of course Nayeon’s going to drag the so-called “girl of her dreams” into every stupid thing she’s roped into by Jeongyeon. She’s the one, she’ll tell anyone who asks, because Mina even said yes to another burger date after an incident with a faulty ketchup bottle and one too many fries.)   With a hand pressed flat against the skin of Nayeon's thigh in attempt to piss her off and leave a sticky red and blue hand print, Mina chooses the wrong moment to turn her head and quite literally, she feels her breath catch in .   Nayeon had always been pretty in a way that makes all the other girls green-eyed jealous, especially ever since she traded the glasses that were too big for her face for contacts and gotten her braces off. But Mina doesn't expect her to be this pretty with all types of orange and yellow glows highlighting the curvature of her nose and the bend of her jaw. It takes a good minute for Nayeon to realize she's been staring like an absolute creep, but Nayeon — insanely pretty and sweet Nayeon — only bops her on the nose, nudges her lightly in the ribs, and sets her heart on fire.   "I think it's the bomb pops talking,” Nayeon says suddenly after a few beats of silence, seems level-headed but also in the middle of a sugar high to say something like that. "But I want to kiss you. Is that bad?"   Mina feels that rapid speed-up of her heart against her ribs and almost doubles over. “I-I wouldn't think so," she manages, shyly. "Do you think it is?"   Nayeon scoots a little closer to her and Mina doesn't mind. "Well, I don't think I would've asked if I did.”   She works a tiny smile, already feels that flush growing at the base of her neck, “Touché."   Nayeon’s just staring at her like she’s the prettiest girl in the world, like she’s the only thing that exists here in this very moment, and it makes Mina melt. Just a little. (A lot.) “Plus, I’m kind of tired of telling everyone I don’t like you.”   “So you do? Or you don’t?”   “Nah, I don’t,” Nayeon throws back at her, playful, “I don’t like you.”   Then, Nayeon’s leaning in before she can reply, and it’s characteristically saccharine, as expected of all the ice pops she’s eaten, on her tongue and Mina realizes that Nayeon kisses exactly like how she thought she would — like sugar, thick and sweet, and pure adoration all in one.   “I don’t like you,” she repeats for good measure, against , and Mina knows what she means anyway.)   -   Its become a thing between them, their kind of thing:   “I don’t love you.” Nayeon ends up sprawled out across the ground again (funny, because Nayeon’s declared the floor as a mortal enemy more than once), book kicked away and ash brown locks falling over her face as she reaches over to lock her fingers with Mina’s.   “I don’t love you,” she says in return, grin wide.   -   The second time, it’s weeks after Nayeon’s been in an accident.   She’s been hit by a car, one that careens a little too fast down the road and zooms past that red light, cracked her skull and the doctors, with their eight year degrees and shiny tools, promise they’ve fixed her. (A few metal plates to patch her up, titanium pins screwed in to her bones, a whole bottle of painkillers to make it easier.)   And the first time she visits her, she looks at her like she’s someone she’s never met before.   She never comes with the other people even though she should; the doctor said it would be better for Nayeon to see her more, since the people who’ve been the closest to her are more likely to trigger memories. Nayeon’s distant, however; sometimes hateful, oftentimes distressed, all the time hurtful. The doctor says it’s normal, tells her not to take it to heart, but Mina finds herself losing her heart a little bit more each time anyway.   (She can’t find her anywhere when she looks at her in the eyes. The doctors say they’ve fixed her up, put her back in tip-top shape, but all they’ve done is give her a body housing someone else.)   Two weeks later, she finds herself hesitating with her fingers ghosting over the door knob. It’s almost pathetic, how she visits all the time, visits a girl that may never remember her for the rest of her life, but she’s here–– she’s here and trying to salvage every last bit of dying hope she can get her hands on. Because maybe, maybe one day the girl she’s so foolishly given her heart to will look at her and see her.   It’s almost pathetic, how she chases after a girl that doesn’t even remember the exact way she used to say her name. She’s better than that. (She’s not.)   A nurse passes by and unsurprisingly, she recognizes her. Mina wishes she didn’t.   “You’re here again? Everyone else left about an hour ago, so you can have her all to yourself for the rest of the day.”   She responds with a mere nod, fingers grasping around the handle, wrist locked into place.   “I know it’s been hard, but you must really love her a lot to face this with her. Hang in there.” The nurse’s words have her turning to face her briefly. She wonders if it’s worth the trouble to slap away the pen she's wagging in front of her or maybe snap her clipboard in two.   Instead, her wrist turns, and she pushes the door open and murmurs,   “I don’t love her,” before she slams the door shut behind her.   -   The third time, it is back in their tiny box of a home.   Nayeon is tired,