Irene and Joy stood by the dining room table in silence, staring at the now closed door to Wendy’s bedroom in confusion. Irene’s mind was reeling. The more she got acquainted with her old flame, the more lost she got; Lost in thoughts she was far too familiar repressing.

Being in the vicinity of Wendy was exhilarating, she felt alive. It was confusing and scary, and toying with the idea of not hating her, even though Irene was finally admitting to herself she never really did, was terrifying. Irene was so used to keeping her interactions with others to a fine tuned precision, as if every word she said had to be calculated, correct. Wendy made it seem like Irene was speaking in tongues.

Wendy, and the peculiar way she had wormed her way into Irene’s life, was throwing the older girl for a loop. It felt natural not to think around Wendy. For once in her life, Irene was scared of the feelings she had rather than the feelings she repressed. And once Wendy had walked away again, the familiar stab of disappointment and regret making itself known in her heart, Irene had made up her mind.

No matter what she felt for Wendy, (because the haze of sudden and strong, foreign emotion was plaguing her mind) she would never let her leave. Irene was tired of running, and Wendy was the metaphorical end to the race.

Joy cleared , snapping Irene out of her sudden introspection.

“Uh- Wendy usually likes to be left alone when she gets that upset so-” Joy trailed off, grabbing her purse and shooting an apologetic smile at Irene as she put her dirty dish in the sink with a loud clang.

Irene watched Joy walk out of the front door, closing it gently behind her. Irene slumped against Wendy’s door, sighing loudly to let Wendy know she wouldn’t budge. She waited a few minutes before speaking up.

“Can we please talk, Seungwan?”

“Since when do you want to talk, nevertheless about feelings. ”

Irene paused, choosing for once in her life not to make a snippy comment and build up her walls even further.

“I’m tired of this.”

“Of what?”

Irene sighs deeply again, forcing her thumbs deep into her temples and cradling her head in her hands.

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I just hate how awkward this is.”

“Me too.” Wendy responds, a little more feebly than before.

“I’m sorry for being an . Can we finish dinner please?”

There’s a pause, as if Wendy is thinking over her options.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m asking you nicely. It would be a shame to waste all that food.”

Irene hears soft pads of feet and the lock on the door clicks open quietly. Irene stands, getting out of the way of the door. Wendy’s eyes are glazed over with unshed tears, and Irene’s heart drops in her stomach.

“I’m sorry.” she says again, looking down at her feet.

“Can we just eat?” Wendy says quietly. It’s obvious she’s avoiding any conversation.

Irene silently walks to the table, and begins eating her noodles, even though they’d gone cold already. The only noises heard were the slurps of noodles and clinks of glassware on the table. Irene purposefully prolongs eating; she wants to see what Wendy will do.

Irene peeks up from her chopsticks to see Wendy in the kitchen, placing her now empty bowl by Joy’s. Irene was curious as to why Wendy hadn’t asked about Joy at all, weren’t they supposed to be friends? She tries to push her luck.

“Aren’t you gonna ask why Joy left?” 
 

Wendy looks up from the dishes to look at Irene, a sad smile scrawled over her lips.

“I’m used to her leaving.”

Ouch.

Irene’s not sure what to say, so she takes a sip of water before scooting her chair away from the table, and moving around Wendy to place her dishes in the sink.

“Washer or dryer?” Irene says, not bothering to look at the younger girl.

“Huh?”

“The dishes. Do you want to wash them or dry them?”

“Oh. I’ll wash them.” she says, clearly surprised that Irene offered her help.

They worked in silence, and rather diligently, because Wendy had torn half of the kitchen up preparing their dinner for the night. It took longer than Irene expected, and the work was excruciating, purely because she’d get distracted every time Wendy’s slim fingers would graze her own. Irene wrung out the dish towel with a grunt, and threw it on the counter tiredly.

“Thank you.” Wendy says bashfully.

“Of course.”

Irene begins to walk away, but is stopped by a quiet stutter from Seungwan.

“I-I..” she stops.

Irene turns around, and places her hand on the side of Seungwan’s arm, urging her to continue.

“I- usually watch this drama, it’s kinda stupid, but if you wanna watch it, uh” she coughs awkwardly, “with m-me, you can. It’s coming on soon.”

“Oh! Is it Flowers for the Mistress?” Irene says, a wide smile spreading on her face.

“Yeah, do you watch it too?” Wendy questions, the shocked expression on her face morphing into one of amusement.

“I might’ve skipped out on finishing papers to hate-watch it.” Irene admits.

Irene smiles at Wendy, nodding her head in the direction of the TV.

Wendy laughs meekly, grabbing Irene’s wrist and pulling her to the couch on the other end of the apartment. Irene is uncomfortably warm, she hates how much Wendy’s touch seeps right through her.

Wendy sits on one side of the couch, Irene on the opposite. Despite a found commonality between them, the air was still rife with tension from dinner, and not to mention their past, which neither woman seems too insistent on bringing up.

They watch the show together, and Irene makes snide comments throughout the exhausting hour-long program.

(She wouldn’t admit to herself she was doing it to hear Wendy laugh.)

When the end credits started rolling, Irene stole a glance at Wendy, who was unseasonably quiet as compared to when they had started the show. Her neck was limp on the armchair of the sofa, open and eyes closed gently.

She’s pretty , annoying, even when she’s sleeping. Irene debates leaving her on the couch for the night, but when her eyes graze over Seungwan’s sleeping form for a third time and she sees the younger woman shiver, her resolve breaks.

Irene stood from the couch as quietly as possible, and snuck into her room, grabbing an extra blanket from one of her moving boxes. She tiptoed back to the living room, and draped the purple blanket over Wendy cautiously, so as not to wake her up. Wendy stirred a bit, moving only to nuzzle into the blanket further. Irene’s breath caught in .

So annoying.

She decided to turn in for the night, staring at her ceiling. The image of Wendy burrowing into Irene’s purple blanket burned into her mind, playing itself over and over on the white ceiling like a movie screen.

Irene had never felt more confused in her life.

…

It was early when Irene woke up, especially considering she hadn’t slept much at all. Her mind shuffled from rambling and exhausting overthinking to blankness throughout the night. Irene had realized that maybe Wendy wasn’t so bad. Maybe.

But they still needed to talk.

Irene kicked her covers off of her with a flourish, and slipped her feet into her favorite slippers, the fluffy bunnies whose ears flopped when she walked. Irene stomped after putting them on, the ears moving accordingly. She smiled groggily.

That never gets old.

She ties her purple robe just a little tighter around her waist, and opens her door, assaulted by a variety of loud noises. Her eyebrows furrow as she follows the noise, walking almost robotically to the kitchen. Inside is Wendy, donned in her same clothes from the night before, angrily whisking a bowl of what looks like pancake batter.

“You got a vendetta or something?” Irene rasps, leaning against the archway into the kitchen.

Wendy startles, her hand tensing around the whisk and her back going visibly rigid.

“You scared me!” Wendy says, frowning at the older girl, who had burst into laughter.

“Do I really look that rough?”

Wendy’s eyes bulge.

“No-no, I don’t think that at all!”

“Oh, then my raw and ephemeral beauty must have you absolutely trembling then?” Irene presses on, a glint in her eyes.

“Oh shut up already.” The younger girl fires back, a tinge of blush on her cheeks. Irene wouldn’t have noticed it if she wasn’t hell-bent on staring her down. Wendy turns back around and continues making her pancake batter.

“Has anyone told you that you have a really nice ?” Irene says, shifting her position on the door frame.

Wendy makes an about face, clearly embarrassed by the comment. Her face is bright red now, and she stands with her arms crossed.

“Yeah, you did yesterday.” She pauses, “I just wish you were this forward in high school.” Wendy finishes, quirking an eyebrow.

Irene sighs.

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s a noticeable downcast in the air, and the tension returned immediately.

“Sorry did I-” Wendy starts, but is interrupted.

“No. It’s fine… But in all honesty I’d like to discuss all of that. And I mean ALL of it. I’m tired of living in the past, Wendy. I don’t wanna run anymore.”

“Me too, Irene. Let me finish fixing this up and we can talk after breakfast?”

...

The two women ate in silence, Irene only speaking to compliment Wendy’s cooking, who only nodded her thank you in response. It was evident that both women were trying to prepare what they wanted to say, and Wendy began first. She was only halfway through her plate when she set her fork down and sniffled.

“Irene I’m so, SO sorry.” Her voice cracks with a sob, and Irene stops eating. She’s queasy. She refuses to say anything, letting Wendy gather her thoughts.

“I had no idea you weren’t out yet, or that your mother was homophobic… I got you kicked out of your HOME because I’m too selfish and I didn’t think about you.” Wendy continues, pausing occasionally to catch her breath in between cries. “No wonder you hate me.”

“I did.” Irene says, catching Wendy’s eyes, which are red and puffy from the tears streaming down her face.

“Did?”

“Of course I did. I was young and stupid. I could only think about myself. And yeah, it still hurts sometimes-” she pauses, “I miss Yeri so much.” She chokes a sob, before taking a deep breath and continuing to speak.

“So yeah, I did hate you for that. I can’t really ever go back home now, and that’s still something that weighs heavy on me. But-”

“But?”

“Let me finish. But I don’t hate you for it now. It forced me to grow up. I still have issues with repression, but it’s getting a little easier now, I think. You know, It’s weird how life works, Wan. Like you used to be the root of all my issues, forced me out of a place to live, but now, sitting here with you, it all makes sense. I’m not gonna say I believe in fate, cause that’s too cheesy for me, but it’s like I was supposed to come back and figure this all out with you.”

Wendy contemplates what Irene said, twirling a piece of pancake on her fork.

“Thank you, Irene. For giving me a second chance. Like I said, I’m so very sorry about everything. If I could take it back, I would.” Wendy says, rubbing her swollen eyes gently.

“I wouldn’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Because then we wouldn’t be here, eating breakfast in your nice apartment, reflecting on everything. Even if you were a pain in the most of my life, I did miss you.” Irene says, blushing and focusing her attention anywhere but Wendy.

There’s a silence, but it’s comfortable this time. The air seems to be mostly clear, and when Irene looks up, Wendy is smiling at her softly, her eyes crinkled into little crescent moons.

“You know, it was so hard pretending to hate you, Joohyun.”

Irene is speechless as Wendy stands from her chair, and walks over to the older woman. Wendy is standing over her now, her arms open and the same goofy smile on her face. Irene stares up at her incredulously.

“Can I hug you?”

Irene stands up without a word, and awkwardly shuffles into Wendy’s arms.

Despite being shorter, Wendy manages to completely encapsulate Joohyun in her grip. Irene exhales, more relieved than she’d ever been. The inhale that followed it was cathartic. Vanilla and lavender swirled into her senses, lifting and absolving the toxins Irene had been holding in for far too long.

As if in a trance, she wraps her arms around Wendy, pulling the younger girl closer into her. Wendy stifles a gasp, and Irene feels the shorter girl’s slim fingers pulling at the fabric of her shirt. There’s a pooling wetness at the crook of Irene’s neck, where Wendy had comfortably nestled her head.

“Wan..”

She pulls away enough to look at her, she’s crying softly, but a peaceful expression is settled on her features.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this..” Wendy says, pulling Irene back into her embrace.

Irene chooses not to think about what Wendy meant by that, focusing instead on the rush of heat to her ears and the sensation of soft lips on her pulse point. Irene’s breath hitches, and Wendy pulls away.

The crescent moons reappear, and Irene’s stomach is doing somersaults.

Did she just kiss me? Irene thinks, her mind attempting to hone in on one of the many questions flying around her jumbled headspace.

“Thank you, Hyunnie.”

Irene is planted to the ground as she watches Wendy pick up her plate and walk to the kitchen.

The concept of not ‘hating’ Wendy, of not hiding her feelings, of not letting lies and fallacy rule her life, was terrifying. But here it was, standing in front of her, unearthed from within her like an artifact. It was scary, but for the first time in her life, Irene was ready to embrace change, but only if it came in the form of a 5 foot tall blonde woman.

an; well its been a while skjdskj... im probably gonna finish editing the few chapters left that ive had prewritten and then go from there... but i wouldnt expect anything much.. uni takes a lot of my time and creative energy.. but thank you for supporting this story so much regardless!! i really appreciate it :)