Hyunjung will always be there to catch Sojung, no matter how many times she falls.

Hyunjung holds Sojung’s jaw like she’s holding a petal, similar to the ones starting to fall from the cherry blossom tree at the other side of the street, announcing a new cicle— a new beginning. Each time Sojung flinches under her touch, another petal falls. And they keep on falling, falling, falling— they’re all over the place, painting the grass pink, and maybe some of them find their way into Hyunjung’s soul, too. There’s no way back now. 

They’re used to this — to Hyunjung showing up at Sojung’s house late at night after getting in a fight with her mother, the same old backpack over her shoulders and the same hopeless expression on her face. They’re used to the comfort, to the company, to each other. It has always been the two of them against the world.