“Come here,” Yongsun whispers, “let me fix your skirt.”

Byulyi turns to look at her, mouth still full of food, “What?” 

Yongsun gives her a look, urgent and demanding, Byulyi chews quicker, gets up and moves towards Yongsun.

A warm breeze picks up, Yongsun’s hand goes to keep Byulyi’s skirt in place.

“What’s going on,” Byulyi asks after a second of watching Yongsun ruffle her uniform skirt, “why are you all twitchy?”

Yongsun glares at her, tugs her closer by her skirt “Wheein is looking over here,” she hisses, “and you looked completely unattractive stuffing your face like that.”

There’s a second when Byulyi tries to turn and look, but Yongsun tugs harder, their knees bump together and Byulyi winces.

“What are you doing?” Yongsun asks, voice shrill.

“I want to look at her,” Byulyi whines, huffing when Yongsun flicks her elbow.

“How about instead of just looking, you finally ask her out,” Yongsun pulls back, “like honestly.”

Byulyi fidgets, looks down at her shoes, “it’s kinda hard you know?” she scratches the side of her head, “she’s younger, she wouldn’t want someone older, there’s Hyejin and oh right, she’s a girl.”

The last part goes up in volume and Yongsun is forced to clamp a hand over Byulyi’s mouth.

“Hey,” Yongsun’s voice has gone soft, “she could like you.”

Byulyi blinks at her, knows that the part Yongsun has chosen to ignore is her way of trying not to make a big deal out if.

“And whatever happens between you and her,” Yongsun pauses, “only involves you two, right?”

Except it’s not that simple, Byulyi pulls away from Yongsun, sits back on her seat, the sun has made her lunch overly warm, unpleasant to eat.  

-

Wheein is already there when Byulyi rounds the corner, she can see her out of the giant crystal clear windows.  The warm glow of the dance studio bounces off her in a halo of soft golden light.

She almost doesn’t want to go in, but even she knows that’s silly, so she holds her breath, pushes the door open.

The lobby is full of other dancers, people waiting for people to come out of the practice rooms.  Byulyi hopes for a second that maybe Wheein won’t see her.

But there’s a tap on her shoulder and when she turns there’s a smile that is too sweet, a dimple forming, adorable.

“Hi,” Wheein says, she’s still in her school uniform, hair pulled back into a ponytail, “you’re late.”

Byulyi smiles, small, nervous, her heart is beating too fast, her mind still trying to understand that Wheein knows enough of her schedule to know she’s running late.

“Ran home,” she says, clipped, “forgot dance stuff.”

Wheein’s smile widens, “ah, right.”

They don’t practice together, Byulyi’s sneaked enough looks to know that Wheein has jazz and tap dance privates.  Sometimes she manages to finish before her and gets to watch, the way sweat runs down the side of Wheein’s neck, how her ponytail becomes less sleek, the red flush of effort reaching up to the tops of her cheeks.

“Anyway,” Wheein pulls her out of her thoughts, “I have to go, see you later.”

-

By the time she gets out of school everyone else is gone, Byulyi swings her bookbag over her shoulders, starts walking towards the track field where Yongsun has practice.

She finds a place to sit on the bleachers, watches Yongsun run laps.  It’s not enough to keep her entertained, and her eyes go past to set on the soccer field.  She can spot Wheein’s head of red hair even from far away and the way her shorts ride up just the tiniest bit leaves dry.

Her mind rushes to a billion things, from the softness that Wheein seems to radiate, to the terrifying fact that what she’s doing is wrong.  Her skin raises in goosebumps with the cooling spring breeze, she runs her hands up her arms, eyes still looking at Wheein as she does a couple of drills.  

Byulyi’s life has never been a complicated one, had always come down to school and dance.  But as she watches Wheein, her heart starts to pick up in speed and her stomach feels as if it’s about to set on fire.  

-

Byulyi remembers the first time she had seen her, hair in a braid, smiling brightly at Hyejin.  They were never apart, attached on all counts.  But she had still watched, the way Wheein laughed too loud and too bright, how she touched playfully, did everything freely.

The day she had bumped into her at the dance studio had done something to her.

She was so used to Wheein and Hyejin, having her all by herself didn’t allow for a buffer, a distraction, her face had heated up, palms sweaty, when Wheein had looked at her, had said, “hey I’ve seen you at school.”

Byulyi had nodded, ducked her head, made some sort of noise that meant she had to get to practice.

“Your name is Byulyi, right?” she had asked when they had bumped into each other on the way to the bathroom, “I’m Wheein.”

-

“Hey come here,” Wheein says when Byulyi is on her way back from the water fountain, the fingers wrapping themselves around her wrist are warm and soft, like everything Wheein.

The click of the closing door startles Byulyi, too loud in its reminder that it’s just her and Wheein.

“Can you look over this thing I’m doing?” she asks, her finger hovering over the play button on her phone.

Byulyi agrees before she allows herself to think about it.

Watching Wheein dance is a little hypnotizing, the way her body flows, bends and turns in the most beautiful ways, sharp movements melting into the suave ease of her body.

Byulyi holds her breath when the song stops, hands up in mid clap.

“You’re better,” Wheein says out of breath, “everyone else says you’re really great, but I haven’t had a chance to see you dance yet.”

Byulyi laughs, nervous and forced out, “you’re honestly really great.”

-

Yongsun says that if she keeps staring Wheein is going to catch on fire, but lately Byulyi’s heart has gotten all kinds of hopeful.  

She wonders if Wheein thinks about her as much as Byulyi does now.  They’ve spent too many practices together, Byulyi watching Wheein for any mistakes, but always too distracted by the beauty of her lines to ever pay attention.

It’s been weeks and Byulyi still doesn’t know what to make out of her feelings, if she should say anything.

She leans against the mirror, watching Wheein dance, the music stops, interrupted by the ping of a message notification.

Wheein goes to her phone, Byulyi watches the way she bites her lip, how her eyebrows furrow, the way her neck goes a little stiff.

They don’t really talk a lot, so Byulyi pretends to be on her phone when Wheein walks to her, goes tense when she sits down.

“So, hey,” Wheein says, “do you like me?”

Byulyi turns to look at her, heart seconds away from breaking out of her skin, “I...uh…” Byulyi takes a deep breath, “of course,” she says.

“So you just don’t talk a lot?” Wheein asks, voice hopeful, “you know if you don’t like being here you can go, I just wanted to get to know you.”

Byulyi puts her hands up, “It’s not like that,” she says, “I’m just...a little shy…”  in love with you probably makes more sense.