Seulgi doesn’t want to see her.

She doesn’t want to so much as breathe the same air as her if only it didn’t mean the base of her survival, and she wonders how it can still hurt, how it can still feel as if a knife is stuck between her heartstrings, twisting and pulling and cutting and making her bleed.

She doesn’t understand what Sooyoung means when she’s sitting across from her and Joohyun and telling her that they need to communicate, as if communicating has ever been her strength, as if words have always come to her as easily as breathing.

“You need to let yourself heal, and you can’t do that unless you find closure.”

Seulgi wants to stand up and drench her in a glass of water, ice and all, just like in every morning drama that grandmothers watch; take Joohyun’s hand and leave because Sooyoung’s being ridiculous as if she’d never been the logic between them, the calculating strategist that draws numbers over confusing colors of emotions and sets her in the right path when everyone else leads her to the edge of a cliff.

“We need to leave.”

She moves to push out of her chair, but it doesn’t budge, and it can’t be Sooyoung this time because she’s sitting across from her with concern in her eyes and a frown on her lips, so she twists and sees Joohyun’s arm braced against the back of the chair, solid and steady, but not in the way she wants her to be.

“I think you should listen. Just for a while longer,” Joohyun says.

Her neck is beginning to ache with tension and her head is beginning to pound, but she has no choice, and if Joohyun wants her to sit and listen to Sooyoung’s meaningless words, then she can do that, if only for her.

She settles back down, albeit reluctantly, watching the way Sooyoung’s shoulders drop, only then noticing the circles that darken her eyes and the tired droop of her lids that she’d turned blind to in the chaos of emotions and pain.

“ . . . Are you okay?”

Sooyoung laughs like usual, but quiets down like a music box only wound once, the rest coming out as wisps of air, more of a sigh than anything else.

“As okay as I always am. But this is about you, Princess. We’re grown up now. We’re not kids anymore and I want you to be able to move on completely. I want you to be happy. With Joohyun unnie.”

There’s the respect that Seulgi’s always found hard to come by, a weight of considerable amount that she knows Sooyoung seldom gives out and never offers lightly. It’s not so simple as honorifics, as it is her tone and gestures, the way her eyes calm and solidify for Joohyun where they dance and scorn for others.

Something else tugs at the back of her mind like an insistent child’s pull, but she can’t quite pinpoint what it is, although she knows something’s changed, something normally not tangible, something usually limited.

Seulgi decides that if Sooyoung can change, grow, learn, then she can, too. The initial anger fades to black like dying flames and for the first time since she’s sat down, the fog clears and she can breathe again.

“Talk to her. That’s it?”

She can hear the caution in her own voice, hesitant and wary, though Sooyoung’s eyes light up and the gloom beneath her eyes seem to fade like darkness in the face of dawn and Seulgi can’t find it in her to take it back.

Joohyun’s hand curled on top of her own squeezes, and she knows she’s done something right for a change. She thinks she can get used to it if it makes the people she cares about happy.

“That’s all. I promise,” Sooyoung says. “And I won’t be too far if things go bad.”

“What about - her?”

The red-head laughs, lighter this time. “Trust me, she wants to talk to you.”

Seulgi looks to her right, Joohyun staring back at her as if her eyes haven’t left her for a second. “You’re . . . okay with this?”

The woman’s gaze never wavers, though she smiles gently and shakes her head. “Of course. I want you to be happy, Seulgi. Situations like these, they must be dealt with in a straightforward manner as Sooyoung said. I trust you.”

I trust you. Seulgi’s never enjoyed bearing the weight of trust on her shoulders, the heavy hands of another’s dependence, because she’s always been too afraid of her own weakness, the possibility of failure and dragging someone down into the abyss alongside her, having to endure eyes of pained betrayal from someone who’d counted on her for support.

Joohyun makes her want to be strong.

~

Krystal is as beautiful as she remembers her to be.

Her hair has grown out, falling in elegant waves of black to frame the perfectly sculpted curves and edges of her face, a marble masterpiece beautiful enough to rival the works of Van Gogh and Picasso.

She’s no match for Irene, regardless.

Krystal’s watching her with infinite warmth and wonder, the same eyes that Seulgi had fallen for despite their initial emotionlessness, seeming cold and barren, only to fill to the brim and overflow with a special kind of shimmer that Seulgi’s only ever seen directed towards those that she loves.

It’s hard, seeing her like this, sitting across from her in a coffee shop on some obscure corner of a forgotten street, as if not a day had gone by since Krystal had stopped trying and Seulgi stupidly worked harder until the last vestige of her heart crumbled away and she couldn’t anymore.

However, she does feel something akin to the beginning of closure, a slow yet steady kind of healing beginning somewhere in the heart she’d only just begun to patch up again.

“Hi, Seulgi.”

Her voice brings back memories of high school, of carefree laughter, of empty school classrooms and janitors closets, of street food and small shops—of stupid, naive, selfless love.

“Hi.”

There’s acute sadness in Krystal’s expression, and Seulgi can’t help but look away, feeling something tug at her heart, imploring in the way they grasp at her, making her vulnerable in a way she’d promised never to be again, though that promise had been broken not too long ago by unwavering confidence and midnight eyes.

“I want to start off by saying that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you. It was selfish and stupid, and you didn’t deserve that.” Krystal bows her head, hair covering her face habitually. Seulgi hates that she remembers that. “Not you.”

The cafe is quiet, save for the soft bassanova that filters through speakers mounted on the walls, and for once, she wishes it was loud enough to drown out the words that keep piercing through her chest, small fragments of hurt that don’t subside.

She feels something rise in her, a feeling that she hasn’t felt in a long, long time, and the sheer strength of it scares her. It comes out, anyway.

“You’re right. I didn’t deserve it.”

It starts off small, a beginning trickle of a leak in a dam beginning to concave, and Seulgi doesn’t scramble to patch it anymore.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve any of it.” The tears come unbidden and she doesn’t bother to hide them, letting years of built up pain finally show in the way they were meant to be unveiled. “All I ever did was love you, Soojung. I loved you and you just threw it all away and you didn’t even tell me why.”

Krystal’s eyes shimmer for an entirely different reason now, and Seulgi’s breaths come in small gasps, the taste of salt on her tongue a proof of the pain that’s finally been freed after years of being locked away in its own little prison, crying to get out.

“I was scared,” Krystal says, her voice infinitely small. It catches Seulgi’s attention. “I never had anyone love me like that before. You were different and that scared me. I was a coward, Seulgi. I always had been. I saw something—felt something, that I couldn’t understand and instead of facing it, I ran away. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

“You could have talked to me. I would have listened. You could’ve at least given me a hint. All you did - All you did was throw me away.”

The silence that settles around them like the snow that falls just outside the cafe window is heavy with years of endless pain, a festered wound that can’t heal itself, crippled and broken beneath its own hurt.

Seulgi knows she has the power to drag this out, make the other girl suffer as much as she had, but that had never been the kind of person that she is, and she’s adamant on never letting herself become that person.

There’s a weight that’s lifted off her chest, and for the first time since the break-up, she feels free, the burdens of the world suddenly lighter, and everything just a bit brighter, and she realizes that this is exactly what she’d needed.

“ . . . Thank you,” she sighs.

There’s acceptance that coils in between those two words, and it’s clear that Krystal catches it in the hope that flickers in her eyes like stars, and when once that look might have had her falling head over heels in love, she only feels a fragment of warmth and nothing more.

“I haven’t completely forgiven you,” Seulgi warns.

Krystal’s quick to nod. “I know. I don’t expect you to. I just wanted to explain, even if it’s three years too late.”

Seulgi can’t help the small smile that quirks the corners of her lips, lowering her head just enough in hopes that the other woman wouldn’t catch it.

She stands, collecting her coat and the forgotten cup of coffee that had long ago run out of warmth, steam no longer spiraling out of the lip, and looks back up at the taller woman.

Krystal has always been taller than her, but she realizes now that she’s gained even more height since then, when once she’d been eye level with the bridge of her nose, it’s the curve of her lower lip that she’s met with.

She can’t help the disgruntled murmur that passes through her lips.  “Do you ever stop growing?”

Krystal laughs at that, a familiar cackle that has Seulgi shaking her head as she makes her way to the door, stopping just as she’s about to step out into what almost seems like a new world as she leaves behind a past that’s haunted her for too long.

“I’ll see you around. Seeing that you’re dating my coworker. You have a type, don’t you?”

The expression on Krystal’s face almost makes it all worth it.

“H-Hey!”

~

Yeri doesn’t believe in fate.

The concept of it is ridiculous, something for people who have nothing better to do than dream mindlessly about meeting a person perfectly tailored just for them, not one for a future CEO of a practical monopoly of a company.

However, when she steps onto a subway train far too crowded to be normal for the average night, and finds herself pressed into a woman who smells like tropical fruits and so very, very much like a certain redhead named Sooyoung, fate is suddenly hard to ignore.

“There’s no way,” Sooyoung murmurs. “Yerim?”

“You must be kidding me.”

Yeri twists just enough to catch a glimpse of red hair beneath a black cap and a mask to match, the woman’s superior height making it more difficult than it should be, and finally catches sight of a pair of pretty, auburn eyes.

That’s Sooyoung, alright.

There’s a warm breath that breezes along her ear, a gentle wind that shouldn’t have the power to tease a reaction out of her, and yet, Yeri can’t help but stiffen at the unwelcome flames that rise up her neck and burn along her cheeks as if she’s doused herself in gasoline.

“You don’t listen well at all, do you?”

She’s suddenly uncomfortably aware of their proximity, the feeling of Sooyoung pressing against her back, the warmth of it despite the many layers between the both of them, and how close their faces are.

“W-Why should I have to listen to you?”

There’s an abrupt jerk of the train that has her stumbling, only to be caught by a steady arm around her waist, gentle despite its sturdiness, and if her heart skips a beat or two, it’s only because of the surprise and nothing more.

She expects her to keep it there, if only to tease, but as soon as the apparent threat is gone, the arm is hastily retracted, body moving away with it. Yeri is almost disappointed.

Almost.

Sooyoung’s hovering as far away from her as physically possible, which is, really, no more than a few centimeters considering their circumstance, her eyes averted, seemingly reading the numerous ads posted along the walls of the train as if she’s never seen anything more fascinating in her life.

There are little spots of pink visible just above her mask, coloring pretty, alabaster skin, and it isn’t fair in the slightest when Sooyoung’s known for her femme fatale looks and charisma strong enough to match that of Beyonce herself.

No one’s ever told her that Joy of Star Entertainment could look like a bashful schoolgirl confessing her first love, or like a child in the face of their idol, quiet and shy, if only in that moment.

“How bold of you,” she says, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Shut up.”

Sooyoung gets off at the same stop that she does, managing to clear the way for her as Yeri trails behind her much like a lost puppy, managing to make it out safely into the underground station that, contrary to the image of dank and dreary that most pair it with, is alive with people and shops and colorful lights.

Only a few passengers spill out after them and then the train is gone, leaving behind nothing but whipping hair and unraveling scarves.

“You seem to have the habit of moving around quite a bit for being one of Korea’s top models. Do you not have managers?”

Sooyoung looks down at her, the bashfulness all but gone, replaced by familiar teasing. “You seem to have the habit of moving around quite a bit for being a child. Do you not have parents?”

Now that Yeri can see her properly, she thinks that it’s out of pure luck and nothing but that Sooyoung’s managed not to be caught, especially when, even with the mask and low-sitting cap, she sticks out like a sore thumb.

She has the mind to bring this up at the next meeting, perhaps to interrogate Sooyoung’s manager who seems to have no concern for his celebrity’s safety—seeing that a guard dog who can’t do his job is no guard dog at all.

But then again, she’s seen how headstrong and independent Sooyoung is, and she finds herself sympathizing with the poor soul who has no choice but to deal with the woman for a living.

“You know, the amount of times we’ve met by accident, this almost seems like fate, don’t you think?”

“I do not believe in things like fate.”

Sooyoung raises her brow, eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief that Yeri’s only ever seen in children before. “Sure, the first and second time could have been a coincidence, but you know what they say, third time’s fate.”

“I can assure you, no one says that.”

“Whatever you say,” Sooyoung sings out, walking towards the exit.

It’s at that moment when a child runs straight into Sooyoung’s freakishly long legs, falling back with a squeak of surprise and a frightened yelp.

Now, this. This is interesting.

Yeri watches safely from the side as Sooyoung quickly bends down on one knee, every bit a knight in shining armor as she helps the child up with a quiet voice and murmured apologies, words fit to be scrawled in fairytale novels, hands frantic as she brushes her off.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”
 

When the girl only peeks up at her with fear in her eyes, Sooyoung quickly pulls down her mask, hooking the fabric under her chin, the child’s eyes lighting up with an idolizing sort of awe and parted lips.

“Pepero Unnie!”

Sooyoung flusters, though clearly pleased at this change of events, and Yeri can’t help the way her gaze lingers even as the redhead glances towards her, a shy smile flashing momentarily before her attention is on the little girl again.

It’s a completely different image from the one she’d just witnessed and it’s almost enough to give her whiplash.

At least now she has something new to about.

“Oh, so you know about me!”

The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I love Pepero! You’re prettier than you are on the box.”

Yeri fails to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips at the way Sooyoung ducks her head shyly, fingers tucking back imaginary hair behind her ear, something that Yeri makes sure to take note of.

“Thank you. But, you can’t eat too much, okay? You’ll hurt your tummy. And your teeth.”

“I know! My mommy doesn’t let me eat a lot, so it’s okay, Pepero Unnie!”

Sooyoung pats her gently on the head, her smile almost blinding before it fades away to concern. “Wait a minute. Where’s your mommy?”

“Sumin-ah! There you are! Oh my goodness, I was so worried!”

It’s then that Yeri quickly pulls Sooyoung up, turning her towards her and readjusting the mask to properly shroud her features as the mother runs up towards them, wrapping up the little girl in the shelter of her embrace.

Yeri ignores the sting she feels in her heart.

She makes the mistake of looking up into Sooyoung’s eyes, beautiful in the way that autumn leaves are, holding the kind of warmth that Yeri’s craved all her life.

Fate isn’t a concept that she understands, has never been a point of interest, nor anything she’s ever truly contemplated—she’s never had the gift of time or the allowance of youth to escape into her own head.

She thinks that maybe, with Sooyoung, it could be something real.

~

Seulgi’s never met this many people in her personal life before.

In the modeling world, she’s always had no choice but to make meaningless connections, to talk to people with sugar-coated words and sly smiles and throw in a flirty touch from time to time simply in order to survive.

She’s only ever had Sooyoung in her personal life, the only constant in a world ever changing, and it had been that way since she’d stepped out of high school, since she’d realized that people were not to be trusted.

From the moment she’d met Joohyun, her world had tilted on its axis, had begun to fill up like an empty basin with strange lights and foreign colors, drawing in things never seen before as if she were a magnet and the rest of the world helpless victims to her pull.

So it’s almost not a surprise when a vaguely familiar man dressed in a navy blue suit and tie walks towards her just as she nears her apartment, and it’s only when he stops in front of her and offers a charming smile that she remembers where she’s seen him before.

She’s immediately on her guard, remembering the unnatural way Joohyun had reacted that night, the fear in her eyes and the relief as she’d turned to her and she’d offered to leave them alone.

“Hello, Seulgi-sii. I’m not sure you remember me.”

Seulgi watches him carefully. “I do. You were with Joohyun.”

The man chuckles. “Joohyun? Is that what she goes by these days? Yes, I was with Irene. My name is Seo Kangjoon, an old . . . friend of hers. Would you mind going somewhere to talk? I have some things I would like to tell you.”

The name Irene is foreign to her, although she can’t deny that the elegance of it fits Joohyun like a glove, and this man dressed in clothes of the rich and an aura resembling her girlfriends is intriguing in the way that mysteries are.

However, Seulgi has promised to trust the older woman, and she has no intention of breaking such a promise, especially not for a stranger.

“If this is about Joohyun, I have no interest in hearing it. Please leave.”

Seo Kangjoon seems taken aback, the reaction of a man who is rarely rejected in any category of advancement, though he hides it well, a polite smile a constant on his features, though the sincerity doesn’t reach his eyes, leaving them cold and black, an empty void lacking stars.

She meets his gaze steadily, sunlit earth clashing against a moonless night, then sweeps past him without another word, confident with her decision to trust the woman she loves as she steps through the unforgiving ice and snow that surrounds her.

“Not even if your supposed artist girlfriend is the true heir to the multi-millionaire company that owns you?”

This stops her in her tracks, as if the ice has wrapped its fingers around her feet and frozen her there, brows knitting together despite the numbness that has begun to settle in from either cold or shock, her fingers twisting themselves into the hem of her favorite sweater.

“She didn’t tell you,” he says, sounding disgustingly pleased at the information. “I didn’t think she would. After all, she always had so many secrets, even when we were together. But you know this by now, don’t you?”

She spins around, looking up at this man who has managed to ruin everything she’s ever thought possible and more with just a few words and an all too knowing smile, content with the knowledge of what he has done.

“She promised to tell you, didn’t she? She asked you to give her more time?” She hates that all she can do is blink. “That’s what I thought. Now would you like to have some coffee with me? I’ll buy.”

All she can do is follow.

Snow falls.