Thank you all for your kind feedback. All I want to do is invite you over for tea, talk about all our favourite things, and be friends forever.

Speaking of, what are your top 3 favourite Taeny fanfiction?

khuntoria1013, I am so honored that you've actually reread this fic.

Sorry friends, they have to go back to real life in the next chapter. So tempted to ditch this and go AU where their lives only revolve around each other :P

Chapter 15

11 November 2014

(3 days after Tiffany left)

“Fancy seeing you here.”  

Just when she thought her day could not get any worse, the universe decides to up its game.  Taeyeon takes another swig of her drink, scrunching up her face when the liquid left a burning trail down . 

She really hated whiskey.

“What do you want?” she asks impassively, fully drained from the events of this week.  

 “Company. I scrolled through my contact list thinking: Who here is more miserable than I am right now? Stopped at your name.”

Taeyeon has hit the lowest point in her life, and the universe has sent Tyler Kwon to mock her.

“Hey, is this guy bothering you?” James, the bartender, asks. His voice was gentle with concern but his eyes were dark and threatening. One word from Taeyeon and Tyler Kwon would be thrown out of his bar. James is protective like that. He reminds her of her older brother – the only difference is that James’s well-built physique could actually do a lot of damage.

“It’s fine.”

It might be helpful having someone to direct all her anger at - someone she really did not care about hurting. 

James raises an eyebrow, highly sceptical, but gives her a slight nod. “I’ll be over here if you need me,” he says, and walks away to serve another customer.

“Could it be that Kim Taeyeon is warming up to me? My day is getting better already,” Tyler says sarcastically. He downs the rest of his drink, then orders another bottle.

There is something different about him. The usual smugness is there, but the confident sparkle in his eyes are missing, replaced by a hint of sadness. He isn’t looking at her flirtingly with that stupid half-smile. Instead, he stares at the bottle he’s holding, as if it contains all the answers.

“Jessica broke up with me,” he explains, without her asking. “Damn, I really loved that girl.” He gulps down another mouthful of beer.

‘”Loved?” She hadn’t expected him to use such a strong word. It seemed too big for a person like Tyler Kwon.

“Not anymore of course. I’m a romantic. If a relationship doesn’t work out, I stop calling it love and reserve the word for the next person I’m with.”

Even his smugness had left him at this point. It made him infinitely more bearable.

“So you place the label ‘love’ on a series of people and see if it sticks? That sounds like the opposite of romantic.” It also sounded like someone she knew. She cringed at the thought. “I will never let myself fall in love with someone like that.”  

Taeyeon is sitting in a run-down bar, drinking bad alcohol, and talking to Tyler Kwon about love. She laughs, genuinely amused by the situation she’s in.

“Why not?” he asks, and orders them another round of drinks.

She searches for reasons, organises them into coherent sentences, and feels her heartbeat accelerate as her words reach her.  Her thoughts overwhelm her, suffocate her, and spill out violently -

“Because they would say they love you one day and then leave you the next. They would give their love to someone else in an instant, all the while holding onto yours. They can take back their love at any moment – call it something else - but I won’t be able to.”  

 “It sure sounds like you have already fallen in love with someone like that,” he says sympathetically, and Taeyeon likes him a little bit less. 

Taeyeon felt like a planet spinning out of its axis, revolving faster and faster, falling further and further away from the Sun, plunging into the darkness.  

She will never call this love.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Present

“You brought me… to a bar?”

Tiffany arches her neck in an uncomfortable angle, reading the name off the sign in a shape of a bottle. It takes her a while to realise that she’s been here before, once, when she received a call telling her that Taeyeon was too inebriated to drive.

Two black doors stand in the middle of the shop lot, with faded tacky designs. There are no windows – to the sides of the doors are red bricks laid unevenly, on purpose or by fault of cheap labour, Tiffany was unsure. There was nothing inviting about the place, except maybe the bright neon sign that said “OPEN” hanging lopsidedly on one door.

Tiffany places herself between Taeyeon and the two doors, arms extended. 

“Do we have to?” she whines.

Taeyeon giggles and pushes Tiffany’s arms down with her hands. “You don’t. I didn’t ask you to follow. It was your decision. Here,” she hands Tiffany her keys. “Decide again. Go play wherever. I’ll meet you at home,” she says flippantly and strolls into the bar.

Tiffany sighs and hurries to catch up after a few seconds. “Stop being so cool,” she calls out to Taeyeon. 

When Tiffany walks in, Taeyeon is already leaning against the bar counter, chatting to the bartender (Jack..?). He spots her and waves, but pays her no further attention. The bartender seems far too attractive to just be working in a bar – chiselled jawline, well-defined cheekbones, with serious eyes and a bright smile. He could be a model.

Tiffany does not like him one bit – she does not like how charming he seems, she does not like the way he looks at Taeyeon, she does not like how he’s apparently funny (Taeyeon has laughed exactly four times in the past minute), and she definitely does not like the way he tousles Taeyeon’s pretty hair.

They both shoot her a glance at the same time, as if suddenly remembering her presence and Tiffany makes little effort to hide how cross she feels. Taeyeon waves to Jack..? , hops off the tall stool, and takes Tiffany’s hand as she walks past, heading in the direction of the door located at the far corner of the bar.

Taeyeon unlocks the door, revealing a flight of stairs.

“What are we doing here exactly?” Tiffany finally asks, having long suspected that Taeyeon did not come for alcohol. “I’ve not seen Taengoo drink in ages. I think it’s because she doesn’t want to disappoint Seohyun, who apparently cried when she saw Taengoo throw up after too many drinks.”  Sunny had told her the other day over cocktails.

Taeyeon doesn’t answer, but drags Tiffany hastily up the steps. They zoom past a short corridor and soon Taeyeon’s hand leave hers when they reach another room. A sharp contrast from the bar below, the room is airy, with freshly-painted white coloured walls, high ceilings and big windows along the walls, allowing copious amounts of sunlight in to illuminate the room beautifully. There is an old piano at the corner of the room, a wide table in the middle of the room, and underneath the windows, dozens of painting leaned against the walls.

Taeyeon places a blank canvas on the table and starts mixing colours on her palette. Her eyes are narrow and focused, while her hand dances across the canvas gracefully.

“Am I disturbing you?” Tiffany asks, feeling as if she’s intruding, like a third wheel in a relationship. All Tiffany wants is to watch Taeyeon paint - because Taeyeon paints like she sings and paints like she cries. It draws Tiffany in and keeps her grounded like gravity.

“You’re distracting me,” she says while changing brushes. “But you’re going to distract me whether you’re here or not so it doesn’t actually make a difference.” Taeyeon looks up from her unfinished painting and smiles. “Would you like to paint? Sorry, I’ve never brought anyone up here before. I haven’t learnt how to be a good host.”

Tiffany hesitates, losing her opportunity for further enquiries. “You’re distracting me more.” Tiffany replies, without answering the question.

“From what?”

Tiffany loses her words again. ‘I feel like I have a million things to tell you but they are all in this tangled mess stuck in my throat, choking me.”

Taeyeon smoothly flips the new paintbrush that she’s holding, offering it to Tiffany. “Whenever I feel like that, I paint.”

***

“Can we never leave? This feels much more real than real life.”

Tiffany is now sprawled across the carpeted floor while Taeyeon washes the palettes and paintbrushes they had used at a sink attached to the wall. Taeyeon had 4 paintings at the end of the day while Tiffany had not even finished one.

“Thank you, by the way. It was nice watching you paint,” she laughs at her own joke but meant it with all her heart. Yesterday felt like a lifetime ago; she felt like herself again.

“You’re welcome,” Taeyeon turns off the water and places the paintbrushes in a cup. “It was nice watching you paint too,” she chuckles to herself. Taeyeon takes a seat next to her, deciding against lying down at the very last minute, her back now facing Tiffany. “It’s so easy to make you happy,” she utters to the air.

“It’s easy for you to make me happy,” Tiffany replies, without thinking. Tiffany has always been a flirt, even (especially) with Taeyeon. She fears that Taeyeon will never take her seriously. She wants to add weight to her words so that they don’t float away easily.

“How do you feel when you look at me, Taetae?”

Taeyeon leans backwards and lies next to Tiffany, wearing an unreadable expression, blank as a fresh canvas. Her back is stiff, her arms are folded, and she doesn’t look comfortable at all. Tiffany rests her head on Taeyeon’s shoulder and Taeyeon relaxes, letting out a deep breath.

“You start,” she sighs. 

“I feel like there is a knot in my chest, or like someone is holding my heart. Sometimes, it feels like the knot tightens, like my heart is getting crushed, like it might explode and all my love is going to lay splattered across the ground and I’ll be dead.” 

After seconds of complete silence, Taeyeon breaks out laughing and Tiffany feels like crying. “Kind of like now,” she mutters under her breath and Taeyeon’s laughter stops abruptly.

“I’m sorry. I try not to take you too seriously. It hurts me to think that my presence hurts you.” Taeyeon shuts her eyes, already worn-down from the conversation. “When I look at you, I feel like my heart might implode at any moment, dissipating into nothingness, and all I’ll be left with is a heart-shaped hole in my chest.” 

“Sounds the same to me.”

“It’s not remotely the same.”

“Which do you think is love?”

“Neither, I hope.”

Tiffany props her head up with her elbow, angles Taeyeon’s head towards her, and kisses Taeyeon passionately.  

This can’t not be love, she thinks, as the knot in her chest unravels.