A quiet crackle drenched the empty living room, it snapped and grew and smothered the entire apartment as Heejin walked further towards the window. 

A soft trickle of liquid ran down the floor; Heejin pressed her fingers across the empty window-still, glass shards stabbing into her hand; her foot resting atop the red brick as a fresh stream of blood poured over it. 

She felt a heavy hand softly squeeze her shoulder, “I’ll help you get cleaned up.” 

Hyunjin stared back at the smashed window, seeing her face scattered within the tiny pieces of glass; her darkened right eye living within the piece that made its way on top of her dresser, her shaking lips frowning in the piece that impaled her pillow. 

Despite the broken glass and a possibly ruined career, her mind was stuck to Heejin.

She could survive this, after all, she was shattered glass and bloody knuckles dressed up in frilly dresses and makeup that covered the scars running up and down her hands. 

She was calamity wrapped in a neat box, she was a spark in a gasoline canister; if not a tragedy then carnage waiting to happen. 

(But Heejin was not). 

Heejin was anything but black eyes and tarnished futures and dirty pasts. She was pure; heaven reflected off her skin and liquid gold pooled behind her eyes.

Heejin was a perfect future encased in pearl wrapping and a velvet bow, and oh how shattered glass tore perfect futures and pretty bows to shreds. 

Hyunjin heard a heavy laugh from the doorway but she didn’t face him, not wanting to see his knowing eyes. Instead, her eyes drifted to the red brick crushing a bouquet of red roses.

“I guess they didn’t like your new show,” he laughed. 

“I guess they didn’t,” she replied, her knuckles turning white as the bed-sheet coiled tightly around her fist. 

Heejin’s and Hyunjin’s legs swung over the edge of white marble, their feet hovering over a soaked stone floor. 

(Neither cared though). 

Hyunjin’s legs fluttered in the water, the dye from her jeans slowly seeping through the water; leaving an indigo tint in the water. 

Her fingers slowly rubbed circles onto Heejin’s hand; neither staring at each other, but neither stared at anything in particular either. 

An apology bubbled in Hyunjin’s chest, it boiled red roses and white notes till they were floating in sticky guilt. 

She breathed shakily as the circles formed quicker and quicker on Heejin’s hand till they weren’t circles anymore, but a track of fear her hand quickly ran on. 

I ruined everything, why do you still want me here? Kick me out, tell every reporter that I seduced you and it wasn’t your fault. Tell them- tell me that you love your husband and you would never cheat.  Hyunjin wanted to say, waves of confession crashing into her teeth.

( Tell me you never cared; tell me it was all just a joke).

“He’s not gonna be home right?” she asked instead, her lips tight and her teeth gritted. There was more than enough guilt, she thought. They were practically drowning in it. 

There wasn’t enough room in the world for their guilt, their regret. If they ever let it slip from the slits in their ribs, buildings would be torn from the skies and thrown into the depths of the Earth. 

If a sliver of their pain ever escaped them the world would never be the same. 

“No, he’s out on a business trip.” 

“What about yours?” Heejin asked. They had names, names they recited at altars, and during family gatherings, and interviews. Names that were spoken but never really remembered. 

(They had names, but not in their story). 

Hyunjin sighed, her finger splashing the water. “I told him I’m going out to eat.”

“And he believes you?” 

“He doesn’t care,” Hyunjin mumbled, her fingers touching her lips like there was a cigarette there. Heejin wanted to say there was nothing between her lips, nothing balancing between her fingers. 

She decided to ignore it. 

Heejin turned to face her; any trace of makeup had been washed away. Her skin still smooth, and as perfect as any statue of any God.

If Hyunjin stared at her plush lips, or clear skin she might’ve thought she was a heaven-descent, an angel caught in the limelight. 

But her eyes weren’t milky grey, she could stare into the violet slashes of color underneath her eyes and the vibrant shades of red that oozed into the pale whites of her eyes.

Gods didn’t look like this. Gods aren’t supposed to decay,  she thought.  Gods are supposed to be clean.     

(She wasn’t blind. But she wished she was, she’d do anything to not see Heejin like she was some ancient ruin). 

They both dunked at the same time, a massive splash exploded from the surface of the water as they sunk downwards. 

Heejin swiftly pressed her head against the white marble of her tub, the coolness coiling around her steaming neck. Her lips softly opened and bubbles instantly flooded out and upwards. 

Hyunjin uncomfortably settled at the bottom, her chest creaking underneath the newfound pressure. She hesitated, her pale legs anxiously bouncing above water before she pried her lips open and any scraps of comfort flew away from her. 

The weight of the world, the weight of the water, the weight of her guilt dove into her chest. Her lungs tightened and her body thrashed slightly.

And all at once, everything felt like it was bordering on the collapse; columns crumbling as the ground beneath her began to sink into the upper levels of hell. 

She pulled herself out of the water, her hair plastered to her forehead as she gasped for air. Her hands wrapped around the sides of the tub, her knuckles turning white as she slid against the wall. 

It was only a few seconds longer till Heejin rose to the surface, her breathing smooth and silky as she plucked stray hairs off her face. 

“You feel clean now?” Heejin asked with the same polite smile she gives assistants, and directors that always lean in a little too close as their hands barely hover over her waist. 

(Hyunjin longed her broken smile, her tattered, unhinged jaws, pointed canines basking in silver moonlight. She deserved more than a tight-lipped, politeness served on a silver platter, grin). 

“No,” Hyunjin muttered, her left hand wrapping loosely around her aching throat. 

A heavy sigh echoed from beside her, “It always works for me.” 

“What does it even do?” Hyunjin asked. 

Heejin’s fingers began to dance around each other, “I don’t know, I always thought if I drowned it, maybe it would go away.” 

Heejin stared back at her hands, trying her best to ignore the silence melting into the bath-water. “Do you ever… Hide it? Even from yourself like it’s a sin like you just murdered somebody.” 

“Sometimes.” 

Heejin tapped on , “You put it here and pray that it won’t ever spill out. You pray that it goes away, right?” 

Hyunjin’s finger dropped onto her sternum, her hand rubbing against the ribs that coiled upwards and fused at the center. “I put it here.” 

Hyunjin rubbed her eyes; her heart aching as it hid behind an ever-growing list of why she loved Heejin: a list that was folded a thousand times and tucked behind the sharp point of her sternum. 

That was something she could hide, but she could never bring herself to pray for it to go away. 

“You know, I’d eat the world raw for you,” she confessed, her voice so hushed it was almost overpowered by the gentle drip of the faucet.

Heejin didn’t say anything. 

A few Suns had been placed on a flowery white place; cracked open while skinny creme lines branched over waves of gentle orange. Hyunjin yawned quietly as she plucked a slice of the Sun. 

Hyunjin thought Heejin peeled the Sun and left it for her to enjoy. Hyunjin thought Heejin caught the fiery Sun within her shaking pale hands just because she loved to bathe in its warm glory. 

Hyunjin thought Heejin tossed the entire world into forever darkness just so she could enjoy the Sun melting in . 

(Hyunjin wasn’t that far off). 

The sweet smell of citrus danced around her nostrils as she flopped onto her back; the taste of mandarins dissolving on her tongue. 

A few of Heejin’s awards shimmered in the golden sunlight. 

She turned away and stared out the window; Hyunjin didn’t need to read the plaques to know what she won. She saw Heejin at every award show, she watched her captivate crowds of people whose entire jobs were trapping people with their beauty, she watched Heejin make nations fall in love with her. 

Hyunjin smiled softly as she ate another mandarin. Yes, they loved her and Heejin loved them. But they would never get plates of heavenly stars split down the middle.

That love was made for her. She was the only one who could ever carry it without her spine splitting into two. 

He snored. 

He snored every night and it filled the air like a grey smog. Heejin flipped to her side, not caring how loud their bed would cry out. His snoring continued as she buried her head underneath her pillow. 

She could find him in everything she did: the small clips of hair that she would find littered across the sink when she woke up in the morning, the prickly stubble she would feel creeping up on the side of her face, the crumbs of bread, from sandwiches he would eat, that would press into her bare feet as she walked across the kitchen. 

By technicality what he did wasn’t a crime, but that didn’t make Heejin want to throw him into jail any less. 

She held back a gag while pulling her phone up to her face, the blue light shooting out and illuminating the fine lines of disgust crossing her forehead. She was told to avoid the internet because some fans had found information the day after the rumors had surfaced. 

Her teeth gritted as she clicked onto an article named,  What to Know about the Jeon-Kim Scandal . She scrolled through the article and it started with a scan of her high school yearbook; her younger school photos paired off with Hyunjin’s. 

(She considered it her fault for telling reporters she and Hyunjin went to the same school). 

Crew members from their latest drama report that Jeon Heejin was sent roses. 

An unidentified crew member recounts that scenes with Jeon and Kim were difficult to shoot due to the two’s history. 

A scream nearly erupted from the depths of her chest. Heejin quickly yanked it back and tossed it back to the depths of . Her nails dug into the sheets until she heard the sharp tear of cotton.

How could she have known that something as beautiful and gentle as flowers could’ve ended her career? 

Hyunjin flopped onto her back, the cool spring air pooling above her chest. She stretched her arms across the mattress, smiling when she didn’t feel his warm body colliding into her hands. 

She stared up at her ceiling; smooth eggshell white peeking through the clouds of night. Her hand wrapped loosely around as the eggshells began to twirl in her vision. 

“I want to love and love and love and then die,” she confessed to the ceiling, to the walls, to the ground, and to the old rug, she bought with Heejin when they were 16 and still planning a life never apart. 

They nodded and agreed. 

For the first time in months, Heejin was able to fall asleep without Hyunjin plaguing her mind. Every dream starred Hyunjin, if the movie industry operated within her head Korea would never escape her. 

“Your career is salvageable,” he said while leaning back; his new Prada suit glimmering in the sparse light in his office. 

“It is?” 

He laughed, “Do you think you’re the first to have a scandal like this? Every company has a few actors who mingle a little too close to the same gender. Besides, it’s not true anyway, right?” 

“No, I’m married to a man,” she recited. Heejin practically had the phrase engraved into the back of her lips; it no longer had that spark of fear every lie had, it didn’t even leave the bitter taste of men on her tongue anymore. 

“Good, just say that to anybody who asks.” His eyes darkened for a second. “This rumor can’t destroy a career the first time around, your fans will forget and eventually so will the press. But let this happen again though, and you’ll be lucky if you even starred in commercials.” 

She began to walk out of his office, “There isn’t a rumor in the world dirtier than this one Heejin. Nobody will ever want you if you’re dirty.” 

Hyunjin leaned against the wall a thin cigarette hanging from her lips. Her dark hood pulled far over her head, the only thing peeking out of the shadows were two piercing eyes. 

Her husband stood in front of a brightly-lit food cart. It had a poster draped across the front, in large bold letters it shouted: PASTRIES. 

Hyunjin looked to the rails overlooking the vast ocean beneath them; there stood a photographer, his camera hooked to his eye as he panned it from the cart to her and then to her husband. 

It was PR at its most basic level. 

It was a photograph of Hyunjin and her husband, and yet Heejin managed to sneak her way in. Like everything else in Hyunjin’s life, Heejin was littered everywhere. 

Hyunjin raised her phone to her ear; the quiet crinkle of static filling the night-air. The quiet flash of the camera erupted into the air. 

“Hello?” she answered, “who is this?” 

“It should be you.” 

“I’m sorry I think you have the wrong number.” 

“It should’ve been you. You should be here,” she said, smoke spilling out of . 

Heejin stared into the tv as words straggled across . She was already gone; all Heejin heard was crinkly static. Hyunjin was gone, and yet Heejin always found herself chasing after her.

“No problem, you have a good night too,” she said to nobody in particular. She felt her husband’s arm pull in her tighter, he planted a soft kiss against her scalp. 

(It should’ve felt clean. It should’ve felt good). 

Hyunjin shoved her phone into her pocket, another flash of light and a loud click. She looked up as her husband handed her a bag of fish-shaped cookies. 

(She didn’t care for them; Heejin did though). 

“Enjoy,” he sneered. 

Hyunjin tore a fish into two and tossed it into . “.” 

“Don’t get mad at me,” he mumbled while leaning in and pressing a kiss against her cheek, “for something I didn’t do.” 

Another flash and click. 

He smiled. “Maybe if you and your girlfriend were smarter you would’ve hidden it better. Maybe your fans wouldn’t have thrown a brick through your window if you weren’t showing her off.”  

Hyunjin laughed softly as she interlocked hands with him. Somewhere in the distance she heard another flash and click. “You wish I showed your ty band half the attention.” 

“Maybe you’d finally be able to chart if I actually cared for your music,” she said while pulling him into a hug, a large smile pulling on her lips as she felt his heart race underneath her head. 

Hyunjin glanced back at the diamond sitting atop Heejin’s finger; her heartbroken yes, but not completely. Not entirely this time. 

“We’re married,” Heejin said with a soft sigh while turning the ring on her finger. “Married.” 

“Heejin-” 

Her eyes slowly met Heejin’s. Heejin thought a world of sorrow revolved in those eyes. She watched tragedies unfold in shades of brown till they dissolved into the dreary blackness of the universe.

A thousand tragedies played out in front of her, and she saw Hyunjin in each one. 

opened only for the words to be stolen.

“I know,” Hyunjin said simply, “You’re sorry. I know.” 

Heejin wondered how many times she had seen this scene before. How many times had she acted in roles like these before? She played Hyunjin before, the endless grief spilling from a spine split open.

She’s played herself, the one with concrete walls built 5 inches thick around her. She played the world that tore the two apart.

Everything was the same; except this time her chest really felt hollow. There wasn’t a script to follow, no directors to please. This time she would not come out unscathed with a golden award to sit on her mantle. 

(This time she will leave battered and bloody with Hyunjin written into every wound on her body). 

This time she's acting on her own command. 

Hyunjin was the less experienced actress, her voice cracked and sometimes she spoke a few seconds off-cue, sometimes the camera would catch her watching Heejin with a thin film of worn-out puppy love stretched across her face; a shining golden obsession pinned to her ears. 

(The type of love the directors wanted between Heejin and her co-star). 

So they peeled it off. Snipping the wires connecting stained pasts to stirring futures. They rewired her; pulled at her skin till her wide, ever-consuming eyes twisted into glares.

To be her character, to be a character who could only see Heejin as an enemy; there couldn't be any sign of her left, so they had to snip at wherever Hyunjin grew.

She was only the face they had told her one day, not the brain, not even the voice.

“Whatever voice in your head is telling you to look at her like that, shut it up.” an assistant director told her after an ill-shooted fight scene.  

Sometimes Hyunjin stumbled on her lines, her tongue tripping on “hate yous” and “ yous.” She would spend nights practicing in the mirror, her eyes narrowed and cold as she stared back at herself; her lips would ease into a sneer, and “hate yous” and “ yous” were never spoken easier. 

Hyunjin was the less experienced actress, and yet grief only simmered in the darkness of her eyes. Her lips were parted like there were words hanging off her tongue, words both knew but neither could handle hearing. 

Hyunjin stood waiting, her body slowly sinking into a ragged silence. 

“I make you feel dirty,” she whispered. “I’m dirty and I’m making you dirty too.” 

"No," Heejin lied. She was dirty, but not because Hyunjin made her but because she was born with filth in her blood. She wasn't clean and nor was Hyunjin, but neither could be blamed.

“Maybe we’re dirty in this world,” Heejin began. “Maybe we’re clean in another. Maybe we don't even meet in another. Maybe in another, they’ll read about us when they think of love.”

Heejin sighed softly, her fingers pressing against the black ink dancing across the page; dark smudges wrapping around her fingers and tugging on her trembling tendons. 

And when the world forgets your name, I will always remember it. I’ll recite your name like a prayer guarding me against hellfire. I may not be an angel, but with your name written on my tongue and my lips shaped just to whisper your name, I may just be heaven-bound.

She tucked the letter into a bouquet of red roses. 

And that’s how history remembered them; separate but never that far apart. 

When I started this story I had no clear ending in mind; I wanted something to show that while Heejin and Hyunjin both grew so much that they understood each other's struggles. Hyunjin started off not understanding why Heejin stuck to her marriage so and Heejin never understood why Hyunjin stayed so attached to her. Hyunjin understood that Heejin possibly could've loved her career more than her, and Heejin would understand that love is what was most important to Hyunjin. Two conflicting ideas. 

I wanted to show how the two perceived each other. Hyunjin saw Heejin as this perfect godly actress, despite being given proof that Heejin was anything but that. Heejin never stopped seeing Hyunjin as the scrappy kid she used to date because in a way she was still that scrappy kid, where Heejin excelled in control, Hyunjin failed massively and it caused massive rifts between the two. 

Heejin's obsessive need to be clean was my favorite part to write. The tub scene being the most difficult to write as it centered on Heejin's unhealthy coping mechanisms. It was also the massive reveal for Hyunjin, who struggled to see her anything more than a perfect beauty. Because in that scene Heejin is anything but perfect.

Anyway, thank you for reading! Comments and upvotes are always appreciated. <3