Before Sunrise

She aligns small rocks and pebbles on her lap, makes a straight line, then gets the idea to spell out words with the rocks. A gentle splashing of water is at her feet, the surface of the water just gently wrapping around her ankles, tugging ever so lightly. TaeYeon frowns at the unformed words that could not be spelled out due to the short length of her laps. The sky takes on a darkening hue of a blueberry, mixed with explosions of orange. The sky looks like the canvas of a painter, and today it’s especially darker.

The old wood is rough underneath her thighs, creaking every time TaeYeon shifts her weight from one leg to another, swinging them slowly in accordance to the current of the lake.

There’s a girl seated next to her, light-brown hair in a braid that’s going to come undone anytime soon. She’s wearing shorts, pale pink shorts that hike up her thighs every time she swings her legs too. Her flannel shirt is long, falling over the front of her shorts. TaeYeon picks the rocks off her laps and throws them into the water.

The girl sighs, leans closer to take a look at TaeYeon’s face. Her palms press into the wooden structure and she lets out a soft, uneasy laugh.

“TaeYeon?” she girl says, stray hair sweeping across her face.

TaeYeon hums out an answer, too tired to say anything else. It could be for that reason, or it could be that she’s afraid of using her voice in case it would strain or break, and that would give her away.

She wished she had brought a fishing rod, because now her hands feel empty and awkward. She occupies them by tearing at the grass and weed sprouting from in between the planks of wood.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” the girl says, murmuring because the night is so quiet that she feels that she needs to be soft and gentle and quiet too.

“I know, Jessica,” TaeYeon tosses the torn blades of leaves into the water, like she’s concocting a brew. “And you’ll do well. I know you can.”

The night is deepening gradually, and it’s like falling asleep. Slowly, then all at once. It’s like falling for Jessica.

But Jessica is never in one place for long, and her dreams are based on that fast-paced life that TaeYeon can never keep up with. Let’s say Jessica is fire, and TaeYeon is water. Jessica is a boundless spirit and regards limits to be her nemesis. TaeYeon bends to the limits, and she wishes for nothing more than a quiet life to settle down and breathe.

Jessica told her stories of her mother, and how she acted in musicals with pretty, flashy dresses and bright, light bulb smiles that enchant the world. Maybe Jessica could do that, but TaeYeon sure couldn’t.

So it didn’t come as a surprise to TaeYeon when Jessica came to her and held her hand, sought her understanding and love, told her that she had auditioned for a company in the city, and she would move there as soon as she’s accepted.

TaeYeon had swallowed the clenching in and nodded, said, “Of course, go and chase after your dream.”

Because TaeYeon always believed in dreams, and TaeYeon is so marvellously selfless that she’s being selfish to herself. She has a soft, tender soul, and those kinds of souls are not meant for the big stages. Poets, maybe, but never a performing artist like Jessica could.

Loving Jessica, for example, is not for that kind of soul. But Jessica is not meant for TaeYeon like TaeYeon is meant for Jessica, and some people fall in love with each other, but that’s not enough for them to stay in love with each other. Because then TaeYeon would have fallen in love with the bus driver, the silent commuters on the train, the stories people concoct in their heads, and the lovely flowers growing by the side of the abandoned railway.

Jessica is too big for the world, too bright, too beautiful.

But right now, she is mellow, sorry and yet very aware. She has toned down, and seeks TaeYeon’s restless hands in comfort.

“You could come with me. We’d make it together.”

But they both know that won’t be right. Even if they’d make it together, TaeYeon won’t. The hopeful suggestion snuffs out nearly immediately, when TaeYeon chuckles softly. Her laughter is gentle, but the grip on Jessica’s hand tightens.

“I can’t do that. But you can.”

Jessica nods, she understands. She doesn’t pull away and scoots closer, the side of her head pressing into TaeYeon’s shoulder.

She whispers into the embracing night: “I have twenty-six letters to form an infinite amount of words, but somehow, no word can tell you how I feel.”

TaeYeon smiles, painfully because letting Jessica go is the same feeling, and having her with TaeYeon now is a sore ache in her heart.

They have their tangled fingers on TaeYeon’s laps, the faint lines with heavy eyes that are intoxicated and yet very sober.

The world of stardom is a different world from TaeYeon’s. Gentle kisses to her jaw remind her of that much. Fatigued shoulders slump, heavy eye-lids droop. TaeYeon begins to feel melancholy, the drifting sadness that is weightless and floating, and unfortunately effortless.

“I can only love you till here. This is as far as I go. You take the rest of the journey, and you finish it to the end.”

TaeYeon finishes the long sentence with a quick kiss to the crown of Jessica’s head. It takes up her breath completely, cruelly, and leaves her breathless as Jessica murmurs her name and nods.

The world is falling into silence, with only crickets and nightingales forming an orchestra in the background. TaeYeon looks to Jessica’s bare legs, stark in contrast to the browned wood, and regards old memories fondly. Soon, those legs will no longer be hers.

“It’s enough,” Jessica says, so that TaeYeon begins to smile with her every being, “I think your love is enough to take it the whole way.”

“But I’m not,” TaeYeon breathes.

It’s their last night together, and it goes in silence, Jessica’s hair spilling over TaeYeon’s shoulder, TaeYeon’s hands fumbling to find Jessica’s.

TaeYeon can’t bring herself to say it, because it’ll be the most selfish thing she would have ever said. And these kinds of things are inevitable, but TaeYeon hopes against hope and prays that Jessica would be different. When you go up to the stage, and the whole world has its attention fixed on you alone, you see the world differently. The lights begin to look different, the faces on people look strange and unfamiliar. TaeYeon’s only been on stage during choir in church, but she knows that much because the fear of it still her dry. She asks for Jessica to still be Jessica.

“Please,” TaeYeon begs, her thumbs smoothing over Jessica’s palms, “don’t change.”

Jessica pulls back to kiss the gap in between TaeYeon’s brows, finding no answer, but promising it anyway.

And soon, the sky splatters with gold, majestic colours to accommodate Jessica’s departure into a new world. TaeYeon looks over to Jessica, shimmering in gold, specks of shooting stars disappearing down Jessica’s cheekbones.

They watch the new sky together, crumple up their past and toss it into the waters. Both them of thinking the same thing, but never saying it out loud for fear that the words would die on their lips.

Before sunrise, they have parted.

“So this is goodbye.”

—ジュリエット