Soojung leans over Seulgi’s desk to keep it shut, no chance of her being able to retrieve her belongings until she gives a reply. The school day is finally over. Seulgi thinks everyone is going to make a habit of crowding around her desk. It’s too late to break them out of it now.

“Do you want to come over?” Soojung says.

“Huh?”

“To my house, I mean. Do you want to come over? We finally finished unpacking everything. Feels like it took forever, even if it was just a few weeks and that seems like something to celebrate. Like a house warming. Would you like to come? When you’re free, that is. Ah, Wendy’s invited too! You wouldn’t have to go there alone or anything. I just need to figure out when she’s free.”

Soojung inhales. Seulgi takes a moment to process she’s stopped rambling. She’d hoped, as the days drifted into weeks, Soojung would be over that awkwardness. It was slow goings. Comfort came and went. Most of it, she supposes, is just an inextricable part of Soojung’s personality.

“Yeah,” she says, taking note of how Soojung’s posture rises up with the acceptance. “Seungwan is always busy with something. I wonder how far in advance we’ll have to book her?”

Soojung almost laughs. Seulgi doesn’t blame her. She’s not that funny these days. (Was she ever funny? Maybe. Or maybe it was just the carefree arrogance of youth.)

“Book me for what?” Seungwan says, head suddenly poking through the doorway.

“You want to go to Soojung’s house? She’s inviting us,” Seulgi says for Soojung who shoots a thankful, timid smile.

“Oh? A house warming? I’ll bring toilet paper.”

“No, no. Don’t worry,” Soojung protests, waving her hands as a dismissal. “We’ve got plenty of toilet paper. My mother’s friend visited yesterday. You don’t have to bring anything.”

Seulgi is wondering why toilet paper is still a traditional housewarming gift when Seungwan slams her hands on Seulgi’s desk with all the vigour of a rookie actor playing a rookie lawyer in a debut crime-thriller movie. Seulgi goes on to wondering why people are always crowding around her desk when they’re all about in the same area.

“Of course we have to get you something,” Seungwan insist.

“We?” Seulgi’s wallet still needs another week to receive an allowance infusion that will let it recover from Seungwan’s cafe habit.

“It’s really fine,” Soojung says. “We got too many cakes from well-meaning friends. It’d be a favour if you could help us eat it actually.”

Seungwan jokes, “Well if food’s involved I’m going to have to clear my schedule.”

The matter is settled just like that. 

On the weekend, they find time to meet up. 

Soojung picks them up from the nearest station to her house. She doesn’t bring her bike. Her clothes are black and grey, layered over a white t-shirt. She shoes are just as achromatic, slip on sneakers with a harsh geometric print. The whole look suits her.

Seungwan arrives five minutes after Seulgi gets off her train, her arrival heralded by a message covered with too many emoticons to parse. It doesn’t give her a lot of time to chat alone with Soojung, waiting.

“Yep, your favourite colour’s definitely black,” Seungwan says in lieu of a greeting as soon as she’s in earshot. Seulgi can’t see what bus stop she could have gotten off from. She feels a little bad about it. (Maybe they should have all headed there together from school, but Seungwan was rarely free then and she’d already burned the rare occasion of a cancelled music lesson on mediocre ice tea. The weekend it had to be.)

Soojung shrugs and waves them in the start of a right direction. The too narrow streets bend and wind like a labyrinth marked off in nothing but apartment blocks and convenience stores. 

She looks at Soojung’s back as they follow. Every now and then, Seungwan cranes her neck to the side to look at Seulgi, the three of them in a vague triangle formation, Soojung rattling away at how she hopes it wasn’t too much of a pain for them to get there.

Seungwan strides a little closer to her as the streets narrow even more and the pathways next the road force them into almost single-file. Seulgi tries to drop behind or in front, but Seungwan keeps pace, holding the space next to her. There aren’t many pedestrians about the quiet neighbourhood, so Seulgi shouldn’t have to worry about inconveniencing  anyone else.

As they walk, Seungwan’s fingertips brush against hers.

She tries not the think about how they’re warm.

Soojung cracks the door open the door of her house and kicks off her shoes with practiced aim to their rightful position in the shoe rack. She gestures for them to do the same. There’s enough empty space to fit plenty more pairs.

“Who’s this?” Seungwan says, peering over to look at look at a photo frame leaning next to a potted plant atop the shoe cabinet.

“Huh?” Soojung is still fetching them slippers to walk around with in the house.

Seulgi takes a peek. The frame is black wood, the glass over the photo shining and fingerprint free. Inside it, there’s Soojung and a girl who maybe looks like her if Seulgi squints and looks at it from the right angle. They’re at the beach, Soojung’s arm slung over the other’s shoulder, grinning at the camera. They’re flanked on either side by a man and a woman carrying large sun hats and a beach ball who Seulgi can only presume to be Soojung’s parents. 

“You have a sister?” Seungwan claps her hands together, delighted. “Older or younger?”

Soojung looks at the photograph and raises and eyebrow. “You can’t tell?” 

“Nope. You look like you could be twins.” Seungwan makes a gasped intake of breath. “Are you twins?”

“No,” Soojung says, leaning against the wall so she’s the same height as everyone else. “She’s older. We have a five year .”

“No kidding. I’d never have been able to tell.” Seungwan squints at the picture. “Are you taller?”

“Yeah,” Soojung says. Seungwan nods, mostly to herself.

“What’s her name?” Seulgi asks, joining the conversation. The other two look startled to see her speak but at least Soojung tries to be subtle about it. Seungwan’s eyebrows are crawling at weird angles up into her forehead, hanging a little open in shock.

“Je— S— Uh—”

“Oh, I bet your parents went with dollimja with you guys, right? You seem like the type. Is it going to be Soo or Jung that gets repeated? Oh, let me guess! Yoojung? Hyejung? Ahjung?”

“Sooyeon,” Soojung says, trying to force the sounds out of her lungs like someone’s made her pump up a bicycle tire like a balloon—with nothing but her breath.

Seungwan makes and exaggerated huff, lips puffing out on the childish sound. “It’d be cooler if it was jung. Then  both your names would be the same backwards and forwards.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” Soojung says, smiling. “My father had the dollimja as the second letter of his name, though, so it had to switch back for us. Not the right timing, I guess. Not for us. It’s a missed opportunity.”

There’s something wistful and breathless in the tone of her voice. Seulgi wants to know why any sound remotely like a J came out when she was trying to say ‘Sooyeon’. Seulgi wants to know why Soojung looks so sad when she talks about lost chances.

“Where’s she now?” Seungwan asks, handing the picture frame back over to Soojung who sets it down neatly on the top of the shoe cupboard where it came from.

“She’s studying in the States,” Soojung explains. “She wants to be a fashion designer. It’s her big dream.”

“Sounds nice,” Seulgi says.

Soojung smiles and it’s as distant as her voice. “Yeah. It does.”

Seulgi can’t remark on much about the house’s interior decoration. It’s  surprisingly cozy for a place that’s just been settled into but that might just be because it’s too crowded with things. Rather than giving the feel of everything having it’s well used place, objects are still drifting in between here and there looking for their ideal bases of operation. The clutter is less because people in the house use things frequently and more because there’s been too much emphasis on getting everything unpacked instead of tidied away.

Still Soojung navigates through things just fine. From the dining table, Seulgi can see her tap the fridge door shut with her hip. She twiddles her thumbs, wondering if she should ignore Soojung’s insistence they stay seating and offer some help as she balances plates. Meanwhile, Seungwan kicks her feet forwards and back, leaning on the back two legs of her chair. Seulgi wonders if she’s going to fall down.

The plates clink down on the table gently and Soojung unreels the plastic wrap over the top to reveal a half-finished cake like a seventy percent segment in a pie chart.

“Want tea with this or anything?”

“Sounds good, I’ll help,” Seungwan says, standing up.

“I’ll show you where everything is. If I can remember it myself…” Soojung hands Seulgi a knife. “Slice some for us, would you?”

It’s not like the house is pretty big to begin with, so Seulgi can still hear their conversation, a little hushed as they giggle and Seungwan playfully elbows Soojung in the ribs as they squabble over where to stand in front of the sink, tap filling up the electric kettle. 

Seulgi could ask how big the portions could be, but that would require upsetting whatever little mood they were having in that corner of the room. She settles on guessing. Seungwan has a sweet tooth anyway, if she accidentally cuts off too much, Seulgi is sure the other girl can finish of the slices. Besides, the cake is right there. They can always get more if anyone thinks her portions are too stingy. (It’s not even her food, though. Isn’t it better to seem conservative then like she’s trying to exploit the Jung family food store?)

“You guys are really doing me a favour, thanks,” Soojung says, passing out the plates of cake Seulgi has sliced and the cups of tea Seungwan’s brewed. “Go for it.”

Without waiting much longer, Soojung inhales her slice and slides the plate with the remaining cake down to her end to cut off another. Seulgi assists, just moving cups out of the way and catching the knife before it falls off the plate in Soojung’s haste.

“A favour?” Seulgi scoffs. “You seem like you could finish that cake all by yourself, Jung Soojung.” 

She wipes off a crumb from the tip of Soojung’s nose. Soojung’s own hands go flying up, trying to wipe off anything else she might have missed. Adorable, yes.

“Of course it’s a favor,” Soojung says. She wipes her hand on her skirt. Seulgi doesn’t see any crumbs drop down. “How could I possibly tell my mom I ate the whole thing by myself? By the way if she comes home and asks, you helped out with the other stuff too.”

“Ah, I see,” Seulgi teases. “It’s not that you wanted us to help you eat the cake, it’s that you wanted to tell your mom you had help so she didn’t give you a dirty look.”

Seungwan giggles. “Where’s this from anyway?”

“Oh, I made it,” Soojung says. “I wanted to test out the oven. And the whole house has been smelling like new paint and take out for ages so I thought it’s be a good change.”

“You can cook?” Seulgi asks.

“I can bake,” Soojung says, “but I can’t cook.”

“Isn’t baking a subset of cooking?”

“No, but, like, I mean I can bake things, but I have no idea how to do anything else. I can’t even cook rice.”

“I can cook rice,” Seungwan pipes up.

Seulgi says, “Good for you.”

Seulgi can cook rice too, but this seems less important than Soojung’s inability to do so.

“It runs in the family, okay? My sister once had to call my mother how to make a sandwich. She got better, though.”

“You didn’t?”

“I’m working on it!” Soojung sniffs. “We’re still in high school.”

It’s probably a good thing that Soojung feels comfortable enough around them to get whiny like that.

“You’re kind of spoiled, huh?” Seulgi blurts out without thinking. 

Soojung’s white face colors and she crosses her arm. “Maybe.”

It’s kind of bratty, but Seulgi still thinks it’s cute. She wonders if her own face is turning a matching shade of pink too.

“I’ll walk you guys back to the station so you can get home,” Soojung says, guiding them out ther door. “The streets around here get kind of confusing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Seungwan says. “I saw a bus stop that’ll work for just across the road.”

“Do you want us to wait with you?” Seulgi offers.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. The bus schedule gets all weird on weekends anyway. They should be pretty fast anyway.” She waves her phone. “I just need to double-check I don’t accidentally get on an express out of town bus again.”

“If it’s that annoying, why don’t you just take the train with me?”

“I don’t like trains. It feels more open on a bus. And when I look out the window, I can figure out how the streets are laid out. It’s better for my sense of direction. Don’t you agree, Soojungie?”

“I guess,” Soojung says. “I just had to figure out how to get home from school, though.”

“Way to the poetry of the moment,” Seungwan jokes.

Soojung raises her hands in mock surrender. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“See you at school.” Seulgi waves.

“You too!” 

Seungwan skips away through alley packed almost wall to wall with peeling posters and trash bags—which reminds Seulgi, actually, was it her that was supposed to help sort out the burnable and nonburnable trash today or was it her older brother?

“Well,” Soojung says, “I guess I’m just walking you home today.”

“Just to the station.” Seulgi checks the colour of the darkening sky. “You don’t have to. I can make there alright myself.”

“I don’t think you can,” Soojung teases. “You didn’t seem to be paying much attention to things when I walked you over.”

“Sure I was,” Seulgi says. “Paying attention, I mean.”

“How could anyone when Wendy’s talking like that?” Soojung giggles. 

Seulgi sniffs. “Is that how is seems?”

Soojung shrugs. “I really don’t want you walking around in circles. It’s no problem at all so just let me show you which way to go.”

“Fine, fine,” Seulgi says, starting to walk. “I should hurry home anyway.”

She wonders why she doesn’t hear Soojung’s footsteps trailing after her and is answer by the sound of a throat being cleared. 

“It’s this way, actually,” Soojung says, pointing the opposite of the direction Seulgi was going.

“Oh. Right.”