“Seo Juhyun-sunbaenim,” Seulgi begins. “You know her?”

“Seohyun-unnie?” Seungwan repeats in confirmation. “Yeah, of course. We do student council stuff together. She’s really nice.”

Nice or terrifying. Maybe it’s just Seulgi who gets intimated by her. Everyone else can’t seem to stop sharing a good word about the girl. (Do the unworthy just shrivel up in the presence of such virtue? It would probably explain a lot about Seulgi’s reactions.)

Come to think of it, isn’t there something of a marked height difference between the two? When Seo Juhyun put a hand on her shoulder, Seulgi was looking up. When Bae Juhyun was (ineffectually) glowering at her, it was from a distance so it was harder to tell but… That would explain it, though.

“Maybe it’s because she’s tall,” Seulgi thinks aloud.

“Maybe what’s because she’s tall?” Seungwan asks, obviously following up that thread of thought. She’s never been much for letting things go.

“…Nothing.”

“Really nothing?”

“Nothing,” Seulgi insists.

“Doesn’t feel like it’s nothing.”

“It really isn’t.”

“…Fine then.” Seungwan’s shoulders drop, relaxed, but in a sudden flash she perks up again. “On the topic of Juhyun-sunbaenims, heard you had a little one to one with our school’s illustrious Bae Juhyun.”

“How’d you know that?” Seulgi looks up at her.

“Soojung told me,” she says.

Seulgi frowns at her. Seungwan shrugs. Something in it feels like the last straw slipping onto a pile that’s too big for both of them.

“Where is Soojung anyway?” Seulgi tries to deflect the focus of their conversation away before that thought becomes a reality.

“She’s with Jiyoung. Practising arrangements for the choir competition.” 

Somehow that just makes it worse. Seungwan doesn’t seem much more settled either.

“Already?”

“We’re already behind preparations to be honest. Because the music teacher took an unexpected sabbatical. Jiyoung is kind of taking care of it.”

“I didn’t even know Jiyoung liked music that much.”

“I think she likes drama, acting and that stuff, more,” Seungwan admits and Seulgi can’t help but think of it in a less theatre sense, “but there’s some sort of politics thing going on with the power structure of the drama club and so on and so forth so she’s settling with this.” 

“Some sort of politics thing?” Seulgi blandly repeats. Drama indeed. “And anyway, does she think this is the entertainment industry or something? How is organising the choir competition entry supposed to help with drama?”

Seungwan shrugs. “Stage confidence? I try not to think about it too hard. It’s just one less thing for me to worry about if she takes care of it.”

“If you’re stressed out, then stop doing so much.”

“I am. That’s why she can have this. It’s still a thing that needs to be done.”

“No I meant— Forget it.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Seungwan, just let it go.”

“I don’t want to. You always do stuff like this. Just tell me what you want.”

“No, I thought about it and decided it wasn’t the right thing to say. Is that really so bad? Most people regret the words than come out of their mouth. You should be happy I know to edit along as I go.” She’s copying Soojung’s thoughtfulness in a sense. Soojung who must think through an issues in a thousand directions while looking like she’s daydreaming. Seulgi wishes for once she’d just say everything she felt like saying, consequences be damned.

“It’s frustrating.” It’s not as though Seulgi doesn’t understand how that feels, stopped sentences and drifting eyes, but if someone does’t want to say it, how can she really push?

“Well, I’ve moved on from staying stupid things to almost starting to say stupid things.” Seulgi considers it an improvement, from middle school at least. “A little while longer and then I can be an adult who doesn’t say stupid things at all. It’s an improvement.”

“Just say it.”

Seulgi falters. “Seungwan, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? I won’t get mad at you. I know it’s going to be a stupid thing. You even gave me advance notice.”

“Then why do you want me to say it?”

“Because it’s going to bug me. I need to know.”

“Control freak.”

Seungwan leaps at her, two hands tugging on one of Seulgi’s sleeves. Even though the fabric, Seulgi can tell how warm her hands are.

“Come on,” Seungwan says, drawing out the last syllable.

“You really won’t get mad?”

“I won’t.”

There’s no promise in there, Seulgi notices, but when have those been anything other than cheap? At least Seungwan is honest.

Seulgi attempts retrieves her arm back from Seungwan’s clutches but only manages to dislodge a single hand. “I was going to say you should ask your parents to let you go to less things after school if you were so tired out.”

Seungwan’s other hand drops. She mutters darkly, “You know I can’t do that.”

“I know. That’s why I decided not to say it.”

Seungwan’s expression isn’t as bright any more. Still, she manages to get her usual smile back onto her face, even if it doesn’t reach as wide anymore. “I guess you were right.”

“I can be right sometimes too, you know, almighty school president.”

It makes the smile a little more genuine.

"I'm only class president." Seungwan pushes her. Joking.

Seulgi smiles back.

“I know we and Jiyoung have had our issues,” Seungwan broaches, just as Seulgi had thought the topic had run it’s course, “but I think it’s time we moved past all that, okay? You two should get along anyway. You’re both Kangs.”

“It doesn’t mean we’re related.”

“It means more than if you were coincidentally both Parks. Just by the laws of probability.”

“Really.” Seulgi hopes her dry delivery can convey enough of the sense of questioning that her lack of upward inflection can’t.

“I’m super nice to anyone named Son.”

“Your name isn’t even that rare.”

“Is so.”

“Is not.”

“Is so.”

“Whatever.” Seulgi huffs and crosses her arms, collapsing into a neat pile on her desk.

“I’ll google it if you need proof. It really is.” Seungwan frowns. She leans down, closer to her. “Just don’t mind what’s happening with Jiyoung, okay? I doubt she’s as terrible as you think she is.”

“What makes you think I think she’s terrible?”

“I think you don’t like her.”

“I don’t like a lot of people.”

“You don’t dislike a lot of people,” Seungwan corrects. “You’re indifferent about most of them. But you don’t like Jiyoung and you’re not indifferent about her which sort of implies—”

“Oh, lay off.”

“You lay off. Soojung’s allowed to have other friends.”

“I know, okay. I’ve noticed.”

“You’re allowed to have other friends too.” 

“Got it.”

Seungwan scoffs. “And this from the person who told me to reign it in a little.”

“Fine, fine, let’s let it drop. I’ll grow up a little and let it go.”

Seungwan’s pout deepens, not that impressed, but she doesn’t seem adamant on continuing the struggle.

“What were we even supposed to be talking about again?”

“Bae Juhyun-sunbaenim. Then Soojung. Then Jiyoung. 

“I don’t want to talk about Jiyoung.”

“Fine. Let’s not. Let’s avoid your little freak outs.”

“I don’t freak out.”

Seungwan’s cheeks puff up. “Whatever.”

It seems like they’ve elected to go back to studying like they’re really supposed to do at a time like this and a school setting. Come to think of it, Seulgi doesn’t think they’ve ever had a real fight before. This sort of spat is like their usual and as far as they ever get. Some yelling, some annoyance, and then they both pretend that the issue wasn’t an issue until things resume their normal course of action. It isn’t so strange. As familiar as they act around each other, Seulgi reminds herself she’s only known Seungwan from the start of the school year. A drop in the bucket of real life. Maybe half a real year. A little more than that. Something like that. (She tries not to think about how she's only known Soojung barely two months.)

Seungwan pulls some notebooks and textbooks out of bag, its contents apparently a miniature pocket dimension that’s been cleaved out of space and time because that’s the only explanation for how much stuff she keeps in it. All the books are, of course, marked off with a variety of post it stationary in the shape of trains and planes and ice cream cones instead of the standard rectangles, also as expected from Seungwan. She fishes more paper out of her bag. Origami flowers. They’re made from nice paper, thick and printed on with some intricate pattern in pastels and roses.

To her surprise, at this, Seungwan’s nose wrinkles as her lips purse up in a half-frown, half-wince and sticks her tongue out.

“That’s harsh,” Seulgi says. “At least recycle the paper. It’s nice.”

“You’re into that sort of thing?” Seungwan’s eyebrows disappear past her bangs. The crumpled up paper flowers seem forgotten.

“A little bit,” Seulgi replies. “Sometimes it’s just nice to do things with your hands.” Seulgi’s practised hands are plenty steady now. In the holiday between middle school and high school, there was nothing else to do and no one to see or visit. She bided her time after her eyes went dry after reading and rereading dryer passages for textbooks after she realised she didn’t have it in her to study ahead: no motivation and no understanding.

Seulgi reaches over and collects the discarded paper balls. Seungwan might not notice, but it’s a waste of good and probably expensive paper stock otherwise.

“Hey, just leave those alone,” Seungwan says, attempting to snatch them out of her hand.

“You threw them away,” Seulgi protests. “What does it have to do with you anymore?”

“Sseul!” She makes another lunge.

Seulgi is faster. Reflexes, always reflexes. She could never do much to act, but reacting was always alright with her. They’re the very reflexes Seungwan praised when she got roped into running that awful relay. Seungwan might as well get a taste of her own medicine now, shouldn’t she?

Seulgi dodges and swivels her body around in the chair, back facing Seungwan. It’s a tougher task than one might expect in the stiff and yet slightly rickety school chairs that they spend so much of their time sitting on.

She unfolds the clump and restores them into their sort of flower shapes before pausing for a second. No, they’re beyond saving now. The creases running all across make the paper too soft to hold any real folds. But they’ll still make nice decorations for scrap books and the sort. Seulgi’s mother likes making those. They’ll be good for little borders and corner covering photos and polaroid pictures or maybe edging notebooks on those rainy days she’s bored and just wants something mindless to do.

The flowers unfold neatly. Some of them were folded a little awkwardly, especially the smaller, fiddly ends and tips, as though by thick, fumbling fingers. But slowly they come apart one by one and Seulgi smooths out the paper, flat against the table. She turns over to the blank white side after admiring the fine patterns and shiny foil embedded onto the surfaces of some and—

Writing. 

It occurs only then to Seulgi that she hasn’t a clue where Seungwan got the flowers or in fact why she was so upset to have received them at all.

Behind her, she realises she can vaguely hear Seungwan wince and exhale a puff of resigned air.

Oh.

It’s a confession. A lot of confessions. Verses of a love poem or maybe a song that’s popular these days (the more Seulgi reads it the more she realises it’s familiar—a tune Seungwan likes to hum as she’s listening to her music, earbuds in) numbered in the correct order, one to twelve, and the thirteenth piece of paper is the confession itself, signed off with a name and a hopeful e-mail address and phone number. Well, he sure didn’t want to limit his chances there. 

“You’re popular,” Seulgi says, unsure of why it’s so hard to lift into a smile that doesn’t look like a grimace. (It seems the flowers are reccuring enough to prove an annoyance on sight.) The joke should break Seungwan out of that nervous squirming she see’s out of the corner of her eye anyway.

It seems to work decently well too. Seungwan sticks out her tongue and her. “Don’t get jealous.”

“As if I would,” Seulgi scoffs.

“So jealous.” 

“Ew.”

“It’s okay, Sseul-sseul,” Seungwan teases, patting her on the head. “You’re plenty popular yourself. Not as much as me, mind you.” She fans herself with her hand, as if to say, Yes, I’m that hot.

“Yes, yes,” Seulgi says with an airy wave. This sort of bickering she can handle. She’s accustomed to it, even if her mother thought it was a bit strange the majority of her friendships consisted of taunting and teasing. “Son Seungwan, just swimming in boys. Confessions left right and centre. It’s a wonder you can even breathe.” 

“Well then I can turn the tables right back on you.” Seungwan lifts her head high and smug, grinning. “How was it getting confessed to outside of a school gate? Really makes a whole high school experience complete, doesn’t it?”

“It wasn’t a confession.” Well, not to her, that was. “She just wanted some advice.”

“From you?”

It would almost be hurtful if she wasn’t so true. Seulgi, with the most dramatic flourish she can muster, puts a hand on her heart. “I was taken aback too.”

But, for one reason or the other, Seungwan’s tone gets a little more serious. “Soojung said she was your hoobae. From middle school, I’ll guess by the uniform.”

Seungwan’s lack of response after the effort to set up that jokey mood rubs her the wrong way. She doesn’t know why it does. “Soojung sure blabs.”

“Did you tell her not to?”

“No.”

“Then how would she know if she was supposed to be discrete about it or not? As great as she is, Soojung isn’t really the most…”

“On the ball?” Seulgi offers.

Seungwan nods. “Right. She’s not really on top of things.”

“She does pretty well considering.”

“Considering what?”

“You know, the language and culture and differences like that.”

“Her Korean’s fine,” Seungwan dismisses. "And she’s clueless because it’s her, not because social situations in America require less tact. You don’t have to baby her like that.”

“I’m not babying her!”

“You so are,” Seungwan says. “Even if she’s as cute as a helpless puppy, doesn’t mean you have to go trailing after her to make sure she doesn’t, I don’t know, trip or something.”

“You’re being mean.”

“I am not!”

Seungwan’s face takes on a stern glow. Seulgi is so used to her smile she’s a little taken aback to see her serious. And it’s entirely the wrong time and place for the thought, but Seulgi thinks that look has it’s charm. Even if she’s being mad at her, there’s a certain resoluteness that’s admirable. Besides, even the line of Seungwan’s frown, lips pursed ever so slightly, is still enough to break into the heart of any red blooded male high school student.

And Seungwan must rank up there as far as the ideal type of high school boys go. She’s petite enough to make most guys feel tall and reliable standing next to her, she’s bright and cheerful to refresh a tired mind after a gruelling day, she’s beautiful and smart and rich to boot. Rich enough.

“They really do do that, huh?”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry.” Seungwan’s hand move to cover . Though the edges of her slim fingers, Seulgi can make out the line of an ‘o’ shape and the way pursing her lips has made her nose crinkle, nostrils flaring.

“About what?”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Seulgi tilts her head. “My what does what?”

“When you frown,” Seungwan broaches with some trepidation, “your move your nose to the left side. The tip of your nose, I mean. Because you’re frown’s uneven.”

“Do I?”

“It’s cute.”

Seulgi winces in distaste. Seungwan just giggles at the outburst.

“And you did it again. Soojung mentioned you got like that when you were upset. I never really noticed it until now. And I’ve known you like a whole extra six months. I should be ashamed of myself.”

“Soojung noticed that?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised by anything Soojung noticed. She thinks of the most random things sometimes. They’re not wrong, they’re just…”

“Soojung things.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“What other things has Soojung told you?”

“What’s it to you?” Seungwan teases.

Seulgi’s fingers, on some uncontrollable impassive reflex, grip the edge of her chair tighter and white knuckled. 

“Ah, quit sulking like that,” Seungwan says, half-joking, half…something else.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Seulgi says. “Don’t be so pushy.”

“Soojung talks to me when you’re not around too, you know.” Seungwan’s doing her best to keep from scowling. Seulgi can tell because of the way her forehead twitches, trying to keep even instead of creasing into a frown. “You aren’t the only one in the world who’s her friend.”

Seulgi does not have remotely the same interest in keeping her expression civil. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” Seungwan crosses her arms. “We talk when Soojung isn’t around. What makes you think she doesn’t do the same thing with other people?”

“Not everyone’s like you,” Seulgi says. “We don’t all have a thousand friends.”

“I don’t,” Seungwan hisses. “Maybe if you paid a little more attention, you’d realise it too but I—” She bites her tongue.

“What?” Seulgi scoffs. “If you need to say something, then hurry up and just say it, Seungwan. I’m getting sick and tired and waiting around and trying to figure out what it is you’re thinking!”

“Maybe I think the same thing too! Have you ever considered that? You're the one who just cut off-- I can't believe you! Hyprocrite.”

Seulgi spits out, a hush of anger and hot air on a low volume, “Whatever it is, maybe we shouldn’t be having a conversation like this in the middle of a classroom.”

There are faces turning towards them. Seungwan is loud, she always is, and Seulgi is sometimes loud to match her, although not Soojung as it’s unfolded so far, but even if the volume of their voices is nothing unusual, the tone surely is and the class has noticed. Be it out of politeness or a morbid desire to eavesdrop into the situation, they don’t poke their heads over too much, but Seulgi can catch the movement of eyes flickering and necks turning to them. She doesn’t like it. 

Seungwan crosses her arms. Her eyes say Is this really how you want to end this?

says, “Fine.”

She her chapped, dry lips and turns away, back to her pile of books, pencil in hand, head bowed low.

They don’t speak to each other after that.