Undress your soul.

I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours, it'll all be fine.

Lie on the beach, close those eyes.

Listen slowly as the water reaches your thighs.

I heard the race has only begun.

Don't give it up now, oh, you said to me.

Don't give it up now, oh, you said to me.

Winter was here, and as it deepened, Korea gradually turned into a gigantic freezer. Convenient for Winter Olympics, quite less for normal daily activities, even in a big city like Seoul. Down there, in the streets, people did not want to wander for too long, nights being the worst part of this climatic despair. Up there, in a small apartment in which all lights had been turned off, only an opaque silence could be heard. As eyes followed the trail of objects on the floor (a white snapback with “Red Right” on it –and some say there are still people who debate over that 'typo'–, an abandoned wireless gamepad, and a pair of green socks with corgis on them), they were greeted by two bare feet and an unexpected, loud groan that could only mean pain and weariness. Byul sat up on her sagging sofa and took another sip of her now definitely cold latte. Her hair, greyish lately, was a mess, and she looked like she had seen better days.

The past few weeks had been exhausting, both physically and emotionally. First of all, comeback was well on its way and she was starting to slightly freak out about the fact that people were going to acknowledge her as, not only her same old Mamamoo rapper, but also as a fully functional and very unconfident vocalist. Secondly, she had put so much pressure on her shoulders these days, regarding her role as leader-substitute, that it felt like her soul had literally been out of her body. And thus, second point directly led to the third and most important one: Yongsun. To get a clear representation of her current schedule, Byul's past few weeks had mainly been about trips between the company, Yongsun's room at the hospital, and, occasionally, her own apartment, when she could find the energy to sleep in her own bed instead of the company's sofa, or even that ugly (she would shout it to the world if she had to, but, yes, leatherette was outdated) and uncomfortable armchair in Yongsun's room.

When she had injured her waist back in Malaysia, Byul had seriously freaked out. Stuff like that put everything into perspective, and yet, their stubborn leader had decided she would still perform, even though she could not stand on her feet. And of course, she had handled it like a rock star. But every time she had a line, Byul had kept her breath, afraid that she would break into pieces instantaneously if she dared look away for more than a minute.

Stressful.

And then, obviously, she had to maintain a straight face at all cost. For the sake of their maknaes of course, because Wheein being who she was threatened to burst into tears every time she visited Yongsun, even when there was absolutely no reason to do so. And above all, she had to remain strong for Yong's sake. They had so many things planned on for this year. She could not screw up. Not now. Not ever. So she did all the talking, even though she hated it, and learnt to build up her confidence. A little.

After their participation in the Olympic torch relay, Yongsun had said she was proud of them, –Wheein cried–, but her words had mostly been for Byul, and the way she had managed to become this strong so fast, and in such a situation (for Yongsun knew she was usually a softie and, at times, a crybaby too, which made the perfect annoying team out of both her and Wheein). But Byul knew better. She was not that strong. She still needed guidance, and people to tell her she would be okay even if she failed at her task.

Oddly enough, they spent more time together now that Yongsun was in recovery that when she was alright; of course, supposing that it was possible to spend more time together than with their already established “see each other everyday”. Eating together. Making fake food together. Watching films and dramas together. Writing songs and singing together. Sleeping together, even. They could have just moved in together again and nobody would have seen the difference.

It was nice. Yes. More than nice. They would never share the details, not even to themselves, but something had changed in their relationship. Something had clicked.

But then, that night, despite all that, Moon Byulyi was, indeed, tired. And bored. Kind of. She let out a remarkable sigh.

'I do need a hobby,' she said aloud, although she was alone in that cold apartment. 'But, hell, why did I think Pilates would actually be a good idea in the first place?!'

She rubbed her thighs to get rid of the pain (not that she could actually still feel them anyway, but it was worth the try), but then it was her back that hurt, and in the end her entire body was just a mass of suffering. She slouched back in the sofa and decided to call Yongsun. It was not that late after all.

'Hey,' she said when the ringtone finally stopped.

'Hi,' an enthusiastic voice answered.

A silence followed, which had the both of them giggling.

'That was awkward... What are you up to, Yongsunie?'

'Well,' Yong started after she had cleared , 'massage time just ended and right now all I can feel is how soft and relaxed I am!'

'Soft, uh? Bet you are.'

'Such a flirt Byul. I see nobody can change you. Not that anyone tried, I'm afraid... What are you up to?'

Byul sighed again and bent down, deciding that it was time to put her socks back on these two lost, lonely and frozen feet. She left her phone on the coffee table and put Yongsun on speaker.

'Bored. Plus, my entire body is murdering me, so, that's just great,' she added with irony.

'I take it you went to that Pilates place then?'

'Yes. Turned out, it was a terrible idea. In the end, none of the things I tried were that much fun to do. And that comes from someone who would set up a tent but not actually sleep in it, y'know, just for the sake of it. In the middle of nowhere. And in mid-Winter.'

'And why is that, do you think?' Yongsun asked, of course not referring to her passion for camping.

Byul greeted the question with another of her silent reactions, meaning she was actually thinking of something to say that would not betray her feelings too much, when all that was playing in her head was something lame like 'It's because I couldn't see you'.

'I prefer group activities. I felt lonely, kind of.'

Subtler. Absolutely untrue most of the time, but not too bad. But Yong had decided she would go for a bit of sarcasm.

'Aw, poor baby!', and before Byul could argue, she blurted out, 'Want me to show up at your next filming session?'

'Would you?' Byul asked, dumbfounded.

'Yes.'

And she sounded so serious Byul knew she was not making it all up in order to reassure or please her. She was actually willing to go with her to shoot something for that boring show she already regretted to have accepted to go on. As if she could read her mind, Yongsun continued:

'Why did you agree to go on this show anyway? You hate solo appearances on camera.'

'I needed something,' she marked a pause for a few seconds, 'something to distract me from these stressful times.'

… 'I couldn't bear to watch you suffer anymore,' she added, but only in her mind, for those kinds of words could hurt more than they meant to. It was not that Byul needed some space from Yongsun and her daily healthcare, but, well... yes, maybe she did, somehow. Or maybe she just did not know where to look at anymore. People expected too much of her these days, and she was reaching her limits.

Yongsun's distant voice on the phone seemed to bring her back to the reality where they were supposed to share everything, even such burdens.

'You're doing well, Byulie. You work so hard.'

Ah, yes. Here she was again, the sweet and tender mind reader. Byul smiled at her phone. She could not help but admire her patience from afar. The bit she had done for the past few weeks was nothing in comparison with what Yongsun had endured during all those years of being their guiding light in the uncertain waters they had to cross on a daily basis. It would never come close to that and yet, she was the one being congratulated. Gratefulness and love were all Byul had to offer in return.

'Thank you, Yong,' she murmured.

It was easy, lifting each other up. Well, most of the time, it was not that easy, of course. But they could manage. And if there came a day when they could no longer do it, at least it would have worth the try.

Eventually, Byul said she would text her the information regarding the meeting place, date, hour, etc., and they ended the call like that.

On the day they were supposed to shoot, Byul had decided she would take Yongsun to the arcade first, for they did that once in a while and she seemed to like it. She was even way better than Byul at games, even if most of their game sessions ended up looking like 10% of actually playing, 20% wanting to win and being a poor loser (Byul, especially, was a terrible loser), 10% cheering each other and 60% shouting and being so loud people ran away from them. That last portion was mostly Yongsun's job, but Byul had had years to get used to her dolphin sounds and did not mind them at all. And thus, even though Yong still had a sore back, she did her best to enjoy herself and the time she could spend with the only person she would probably follow anywhere, and beyond, if she asked her to.

VR was actually pretty nice. Plus, she got to blow some zombies up, so that was satisfying. Horse riding, however, was out of the question in her current condition, so she just stayed behind to support Byul. It was her show anyway.

It is something that amazed Byul at times, the way Yong would just be by her side when she had something to do or somewhere to go to, looking at her intensely and not saying anything. Although she could never figure out what she was thinking in such situations, Byul could always feel the trust coming from those eyes. Loud people sometimes have more meaningful silences.

In the afternoon, they went to cook some chicken feet. Weird idea, in fact, when Byul recalled it. But it had been much more enjoyable, because they could really interact... and since none of them was actually good at cooking (even though Byul had loved Yong's cooking since their days as trainees in their rooftop flat), it was fun. Making mistakes was fun. Having a taste of your mistakes… less. It was way too spicy for Byul to handle, but since spiciness was mainly Yong's doing, she did not want to let it show. Deep down, however, she knew that Yongsun knew and that she was just being ridiculous in front of her by pretending to enjoy the food.

But, once again, Yong's looks did not say 'You're being ridiculous', or even 'It was a stupid idea'. All she could read was 'Are you going to be okay?'. Byul was stubborn, both in games and in life, Yongsun knew it. But somehow, Byul's stubbornness and her own silent appreciations were exactly what made them each other's safe place.

And then, after they had taken their leave of the chefs, everything went back to the way it was and they found themselves on Byul's sofa once more, in the very same state of exhaustion the latter had been in, a few days earlier.

'What a day,' Byul whined, as she massaged her shoulders.

'Let's just bury ourselves here... Let's become actual couch potatoes for the rest of our lives,' Yong suggested, with a raspy voice, a blank expression on her face.

The last sentence had them both laughing: Byul because all she could picture was Yongsun singing the 감자 'round potato song' again, and Yong because Byul's laugh was one of the most contagious things in her world. Every time that nose crinkled, it got her.

'Yeah... no, let's not do that,' Byul finally managed to say, between two laughs.

When they had calmed down, and silence had been made king again, Yongsun rested her head on Byul's shoulder and started playing with her fingers until she entangled their hands on her lap. Eventually, she closed her eyes. She waited for Byul's head to come and fill the space above hers, and that is when she knew they would be okay. They could feel each other slowly getting lost in that comfortable position, breathing as one, chests raising on the same beat.

'How's your back, Yeba?' Byul asked softly, after a few minutes.

'Fine. Are you going to ask me that every two hours, or are you finally going to take my word for it?' Yong answered, a bit bitter over Byul's constant worry and the fact that the moment they were having was already gone.

But the girl on her side was too clever to risk another useless and dishonest fight.

'He'll be there, y'know, when the show is broadcast,' she said as sole answer.

'Who?' Yongsun genuinely asked, taken aback by the sudden change of subject.

'Nam-dude. I mean, Eric.'

'And?'

'And,' she marked a pause and breathed in strongly, 'I dunno, he's a nice guy, and I do like his music, but, somehow, every time I see him, I feel like punching him in the face.'

That last part had Yongsun burst into peals of laughter. So much that she could actually feel her ribs starting to hurt a little.

'Oh my God, Byul, you can't do that.'

But Byul looked dead serious and even offended that Yongsun would try to protect him from her. Which, once again, was written all over her face as if ink had actually been there... or maybe Yong just knew her too well.

'Oh, babe, not because of that. But you can't just punch him... right?'

Both the discrete “babe” and that awfully irresistible pleading look were enough to calm her nerves. After they had started dating, around New Year's Eve, Yong had grown quite fond of the nickname, even though Byul repeatedly told her she considered it totally mainstream, and dumb, to a certain extent. They both knew she secretly loved it anyway.

'Fine,' she let out, in a frustrated tone, 'but I don't know how I'm going to react if he mentions you, to be honest.'

'Well, just ignore the fact that he's been fake married to your girlfriend for like, 8 months or so.'

'How is that supposed to help?' she asked, almost shouting now, 'Precisely, he married my girlfriend! She wasn't his to take!'

'But Byul, we weren't even a thing back then,' Yong said, trying to soothe her, a gentle smile on her face.

'Excuse me, dear,' –now she was definitely shouting–, 'but we've always been a thing! Couple or not, we were a thing the moment I lay my eyes on your pretty, round, chubby face!'

'Yah, seriously, sometimes, I convince myself the first words you ever said when you were a toddler sounded like 'Imma steal yo girl, er!'

And as she started hitting her, which had Byul chuckling more than actually getting hurt, she added:

'And my face is not round and chubby!'

'Yes it is,' Byul said, 'Plus you like it when I'm greasy.'

She waited for another blow on her arm, but it never came. Instead, Yongsun's warm hand slowly traced a trail on her collarbone and found its way through her hair, behind her neck, before pulling her into a soft, yet deep and loving, kiss. Byul closed her eyes and maintained the connection until she felt her girlfriend's smile pressed on her lips.

'Yeah... maybe,' Yong whispered to her face, and Byul gave her her smile back.

They should have gone to bed years ago if they wanted to be able to stand on their feet the next day for their Sugarman rehearsal, but it was highly improbable they would manage to get out of that sagging homely sofa now.